I laughed, rather loudly, and that seemed to startle him.
“You? An ass?” I asked with a grin.
He glanced sideways and made a vague gesture with his hand. He seemed at a loss for words.
“Yeah, me. I was an ass when our time together came to an end. I tried to convince her to do what I wanted, which was a terrible idea. I never should have done that. Then on top of that, when she proposed we stay in touch, I totally shut her down. I was a complete asshole.”
“Hmmm…I’ve done way worse,” I said with a laugh, taking a bite of my food.
“I’m sure you have…but you weren’t always like that.”
I paused, and then chewed the bite in my mouth and swallowed. Lou’s words stirred me up in a bad way. He knew what those words would do to me; why had he gone down that road? He knew I didn’t want to talk about it—ever. I could feel his eyes on me, but I avoided looking at him. I grabbed my mug, finished up the rest of the coffee, and slammed it on the table louder than I’d intended.
“And I was a fucking fool, wasn’t I?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Boyd,” Lou said in a calm tone, trying to sound reassuring, but his words had my blood boiling, and I felt like I was about to get swallowed up by painful memories yet again.
Seven months later, July 2014
I DIDN’T THINK ABOUT HIM. At all. Not for seven months.
Okay, that’s a lie.
I did think about him. How could I not? I woke up on January first with a deliciously sore vagina. I could still remember how I felt that morning, the mixture of satisfaction and disappointment.
My vagina was the reminder of the satisfying night, then when I stretched my arm across the bed and noticed he was gone, disappointment sank in.
What had I expected, really? I had known what was going to happen. He’d said so himself, and I appreciated his honesty.
He’d been straightforward, and I actually kind of liked that about him.
I didn’t always meet men who told you up front to not have any expectations. I did hook up on a regular basis, and nine times out of ten I’d end up with the one who made you promises in order to take you to bed.
Did they know it wasn’t necessary? I never asked for anything. Was I asking any of them to date me? No. Most times, depending on how unsuccessful the night was on a scale from one to ten, I was the one who snuck out of the room.
Boyd had been almost infuriatingly precise about how the night was going to unfold.
* * *
When we got to my room that night, he sat me down on the bed and took a few steps away from me. That confused me, because up until that moment we hadn’t been able to take our hands off each other. It was so anti-climactic.
He touched his beard, looking down at the floor.
“Look, Red…you’re a big girl,” he started.
What the fuck? Who did he think he was? And why was I even there? I got up to leave, until I remembered that this was my room.
“Excuse me? Fuck you! Why don’t you get your ass out of here?”
His head shot up straight as I said the words.
“No, no, no…that’s not what I meant—at all. Fuck! I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry…what I meant was that you’re a woman…a grown-ass woman, a woman who’s not naïve about things. Of course I didn’t mean your size…what kind of man do you think I am?” he asked, giving me a look of astonishment. Well, what kind of man did I think he was? I didn’t know him. I had no idea. I was just hoping he was the “good in bed” kind. I sat back down and folded my arms across my chest. He kneeled down in front of me, but I wasn’t looking at him. He needed to beg for my forgiveness.
“Red…you’re so damn beautiful, and I’m so fucking hard right now.”
That got my attention. I let out a loud breath and finally looked at him.
“Okay, you’re off the hook. Let’s do it,” I told him, reaching for the hem of his Henley shirt so I could take it off.
“Wait…there’s something I have to say first.”
“Do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Kill the motherfucking mojo.”
The corner of his lips curled up, and his eyes softened.
“I’m not killing the mojo.” His voice was low and gruff, but the grin was still in place. I wanted to feel his breath on my skin. I was dying for his hands and lips to take me. I needed him to hurry the fuck up.
“You are,” I teased, pressing a finger to his rock hard chest. I bit my lip. Fuck. Could he hurry up already and show me what kind of magic he was packing?
He grabbed my legs and opened them to make room for him, and then he pulled me closer. His face was an inch away from mine, our noses almost touching.
My mouth opened, and I let out a sigh.
“You have no idea how fucking hard you’re making me, do you?”
“No. Fucking show me already.” The tone of my voice matched his, and I saw the glimpse of a smile.
“I need to say something first.”
“Again with the talking!” I rolled my head backward in frustration, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it.
“Look at me.” I reluctantly did as he said, but my eyes were full of irritation.
“I don’t do relationships. I don’t sleep with the same person twice. I don’t give anyone my number. I don’t stay in touch. Is that clear?”
I rolled my eyes. “Clear as a bell! By the way, did you miss the memo that I live on the other side of the world? Like I would have any expectations from you, Mr. Instagram.” He laughed, and the way his eyes lit up made me all fuzzy inside. “Come on, hurry up and take your pants off before I change my mind!”
He raised his hands up in the air as if to justify himself. “Women tend to be sentimental. I needed to make sure we were on the same page.” The tone of his voice was suddenly melancholic. How could he sound like a cocky bastard one minute and a southern gentleman the next? Boyd Rivers was a puzzling mystery, but I couldn’t worry about it, because I’d probably never see him again—well, maybe at Lou and Ella’s wedding, if they ever figured their shit out.
He got up and started getting undressed, taking off his shirt first.
I swallowed as he unveiled his massive chest right in front of my eyes. I chewed on the inside of my lip. Oh, the things I was going to do to him. He was a sight to behold.
All I could think was…Happy New Year to me!
He turned his eyes away from me just for a moment to throw his shirt on a chair. He took off his boots and then started undoing his belt, his stare never leaving me. I wanted to take my clothes off, too, but I didn’t want to miss a second of this.
In a way, it was too good to be true. It was a Midnight New Year’s Eve’s Dream.
I let out a sigh when my eyes fell on his bulging erection, desperate to be freed from his boxer briefs. Fuck waiting. I took my sweater off in a frenzy and then stood up to take off my jeans.
“Let me,” he said.
He took off the rest of my clothes, his hands roaming over every inch of my body, teasing what was to come. His skilled fingers were the good sign I was looking for. He passed the test. I could not wait to have all of him.
“Are you ready to have the best sex of your life?” he asked, arching one eyebrow while rolling a condom on his cock.
“You just ruined it with your corny-ass words,” I replied.
He grabbed my hips and eased himself into me. He filled me and stretched me, and when it was clear I was comfortable, he thrust into me hard, taking me completely by surprise. I couldn’t hold back the moan that left my lips. He lifted my legs up and placed my ankles on his shoulders, then he lowered himself on top of me and said with a defiant grin, “We’ll see about that.”
* * *
As much as I hated to admit it, I did think about Boyd Rivers from time to time.
I knew I shouldn’t. I was completely aware of that. He was nothing but a cocky, self-centered bastard. He was vain. He wa
s shallow. He was ambitious—too ambitious. I knew all of this because I had started stalking his Instagram. He knew he was good-looking and boy, was he ever milking it! He had over one hundred thousand followers fawning over him. I spied on his feed periodically, but I never followed him or liked his pictures. I just lurked. I didn’t want him to see my name and think I was hung up on him.
I wasn’t.
Unfortunately, it was true that he had been my last good lover. In the last few months, I’d had nothing but a slew of incompetent, messy amateurs. So, a lot of times, I would end up taking matters into my own hands and I’d use him as…inspiration. I’d look at his pictures, think about that night, and things would just…happen.
So, there it was. I wasn’t hung up on Boyd Rivers. I just used him to get off.
He would probably be delighted to hear that.
I had thought he’d be too self-centered for my taste, but that night I’d been surprised to find out he was a generous lover.
I knew it didn’t matter if I looked up what he was up to. Like he’d said, nothing was going to happen between us ever again. We lived on opposite continents.
I was never going to see him again.
Or so I thought.
Then Lou emailed me, saying he was going to stop in Amsterdam to win Ella back.
The kick? Boyd was going to be traveling with him.
I WASN’T GOING TO EUROPE for the redhead. I was going for a CrossFit convention, to spend time with my brother and to finally meet the girl he had fallen so hard for. Lou had been having a hard time the last year, trying to get over my ex-sister-in-law. The gossip sites were having a field day with their divorce, since the blonde bitch was a dancer on a popular TV show.
At first, when news got around that they were separating, things were pretty quiet. Then when she started dating a fellow dancer just few weeks into the separation, every goddamn website had to drag my brother’s name through the mud. They claimed Ashley had cheated on him. I never knew what the truth was, but my brother assured me it wasn’t like that.
I didn’t trust Ashley, and I didn’t know what to believe. I wasn’t like Lou, always trying to see the good in people.
I had been like that once, a long, long time ago, but I knew better now. I was never going to be anyone’s fool ever again.
Unfortunately for my brother, when news broke that his soon-to-be-ex-wife was dating someone new, the media was relentless. He got so bent out of shape, he couldn’t even focus on his record any more. That’s when a buddy convinced him to go to Europe for a while to work on his music. Some famous European producer was willing to work with him, and that sealed the deal.
While he was there in Amsterdam, he met Ella. She was a piano player, and he convinced her to work with him…falling for her along the way. Apparently, the girl was just as much in love with my brother as he was with her.
I hoped this was still true, because the fact of the matter was that they had been apart an entire year. How could he be so sure of her feelings? What if she’d changed her mind? I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing my brother’s heart get crushed by another woman. I had to watch out for him.
So, yes, these were my reasons.
I was going to Europe for business and to look out for my brother.
Ally had nothing to do with it.
Nothing.
Though just the thought of her made my pulse race and my dick twitch.
It wasn’t as if I had been celibate these last seven months.
I’d been with plenty of women, women of all ages, types, and sizes, but the image of her in bed that morning was etched in my memory. I tried to forget it, to make it go away.
I was all about having a good time, and I wasn’t interested in having any type of relationship with anyone. I didn’t care to cherish memories, but try as I might, I couldn’t erase her from my mind. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it because it made me feel…vulnerable.
I should have drunk more that night. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t remember every single detail…how she tasted, how her skin felt under my hands.
What was even worse than having memories of that night was that now that I had the chance to see her again, I wanted to go back on my words.
I had rules for a reason…but when I thought about her and the fact that I’d be seeing her soon, I wanted to throw them out the window.
I wanted to see her come undone beneath me again.
I shook my head. This was beyond ridiculous. I had no idea what was happening to me and why Ally affected me the way she did.
A few days later, I met Lou in Rome. He had booked me a room at the same hotel where he was staying. He would be there just two nights, and then later I was going to catch up with him in Florence after the CrossFit convention.
I went straight from the airport to the hotel. I saw Lou for all of thirty minutes before he realized I was exhausted and needed to go to sleep.
I was supposed to meet some organizers for the convention later that day, so I set my alarm and crashed.
The convention was a success. It was my first one out of the States, and I was a little nervous at first, but everyone was incredibly welcoming. I met a bunch of beautiful and inspiring people, and I had a fantastic experience in one of the greatest cities in the world.
I did get to spend some time with Lou and saw him play live in a little club in an old neighborhood of Rome. I moved around in the crowded space so I could take a few pictures of him to send to our parents. I was fucking ecstatic about the enthusiasm of the audience. I loved looking at the people in the crowd and watching their reactions as my brother slayed it on stage. Sometimes it made me miss playing. It almost made me regret saying goodbye to the world of music—almost.
Florence was a blast, too, and I got to meet some guys who had worked with Lou on his latest album, Giuliano and Michele. Lou even got me to jam with them one night.
My brother showed me around town, sharing everything he had learned and loved about the famed Renaissance city. He had spent weeks there recording the album just a year ago, and we were having a blast, but I knew he was impatient to get to Amsterdam. I could see it in the way he was constantly fidgeting; it wasn’t like him.
Lou was anxious to get to Amsterdam, and in a way, so was I.
* * *
I was nervous about meeting Ally again. Inevitably, it was always weird and uncomfortable when you saw people you had slept with, even when it had been a long time. It made no difference if you were both adults with no expectations. It was still weird. I had no idea what kind of reaction she’d have when I finally saw her, and although I did hate awkward situations, my ego wanted the attention.
It was now clear that I had gotten all worked up for nothing. On the second to last day of the tour, we arrived in Amsterdam, and after a shower and change of clothes, Lou and I headed for the pancake house where Ella worked. She was an au pair for the family who ran the place and played music in her spare time.
Lou told me she had recently graduated from a music program there in Amsterdam. They hadn’t been in touch, but he had been keeping tabs on her through their mutual friends.
The pancake house was just as picturesque as Lou had described it: it was hidden in a small alley with a wooden sign hanging outside a window and a chalkboard advertising the menu. The place looked like it had been there for more than a century.
The alley itself was so quiet that when we opened the heavy wooden door, I was almost startled by the jingle of the bell. The place seemed empty, but my eyes soon found Ally.
She was sitting at the bar, chatting with one of the owners. She smiled warmly at us and gave me a friendly hug after hugging my brother. After that, she wasted no time focusing on Lou, almost as if she were coaching him.
“Are you excited?” she asked him.
“I am, but I’m mostly nervous.” He cracked his knuckles and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I haven’t seen her in so long.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m tel
ling you, she is dying to see you. I think she was worried you weren’t going to show up at all. I’m sure part of her thinks you don’t want to see her.”
“Nonsense,” my brother replied.
“I know! But think about it…she has no idea you are here today. We haven’t told her, even after you sent us your itinerary. I just hope she doesn’t faint or burst into some ugly cry. She’d hate herself for that. I’d hate that, too. That would be uncomfortable as hell, for all of us.” She made a disgusted face.
“Lord, Ally!” my brother teased. “You haven’t changed, have you?” She scrunched up her nose at him, and he laughed in response. Lou introduced me to the owners of the place, Johan and Helga, and their daughter, Lieke. Johan was a tall man with short curly hair, green eyes, and a bushy beard. He was only a few inches shorter than me and had broad shoulders. He gave my hand a good, firm shake.
“Aangenaam,” I told him, which I knew meant Nice to meet you.
“I’m Johan,” he replied with a bright, genuine smile.
I introduced myself to Helga with the same Dutch greeting. She was much shorter than her husband with light brown, shoulder-length hair. Her eyes were sky blue and cute wrinkles appeared at the corners of them when she shook my hand and smiled. She looked beautiful, even though she wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup.
Their daughter was the perfect mix of both of them, a beautiful little girl with long, wild, curly blonde hair and eyes as blue as her mother’s. Her rosy cheeks reminded me of the cherubs I’d seen in paintings and illustrations. She jumped right into my brother’s arms and hugged him tightly. She didn’t seem shy, but when I said hi to her, she hid her face.
My brother laughed, teasing me, “You might be scaring her with that long beard of yours.”
I scoffed. “Her father has a beard!”
“Yeah, but she knows him. You can look quite ominous. Dit is mijn broer, Lieke,” he told her, and only then did she show her face again. She gave me a small, shy smile, and I smiled back.
Not About Love (This Love Book 2) Page 3