by Ann Stewart
I attempt to be strong for him but nothing comes out but a whisper, “You were just a kid, how were you supposed to know.”
“It’s not just from when I was a kid, Hart. That might have been my first time. I might have been coached by my Dad as he watched me fuck that woman, but I continued with that perversion for so long that someone as pure as you should never have anything as disgusting as me even close to her. I never deserved you and I was stupid to think that I ever did.” I open my mouth to contest, but he stops me. “I don’t need you to tell me how special I am or that what happened isn’t my fault. Been there, done that with therapists. I’m just letting you know what’s been going on in my head for the past month.” He worries his lip and stares at his fingernails as he toys with his cuticles.
I knew he had it rough, but I never realized how deep his wounds really are. His Dad literally ruined him. I know I should tell him that his Dad recently tried to visit him at work, but know better than to tell him now. It would only hurt him more. I have a feeling, especially after hearing this story, that his Dad won’t leave well enough alone. He’ll be back.
I squeeze his hand and fight the tears that threaten to escape while my heart breaks for him. How do I make this situation better? What can I say to make him understand that the person he was or the person he thinks he is has nothing to do with what I see in him or why I love him?
“You asked what I was thinking about earlier.” His sad eyes turn up and meet mine. “I was thinking about us, in your office. The things you’re capable of, not only with that body and mouth of yours, but how much you love me. You’re the first guy who’s ever truly made me feel safe. That has to speak for something.” It’s on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him that I’m pregnant, but after everything he just said, I’m torn. Will it send him in a whirlwind spiral into a dark abyss? Then again, maybe he needs this. Maybe he needs to feel something again, and not this loathing pain he’s reveling in. Yes. Right now, I’m going to tell him.
“Alex, I’m…” My phone rings breaking my confession. I look down and notice it’s my sister. “I’m sorry, I have to take this, it’s Rachel.” I hold up my finger to my lips as I answer my phone.
Even before I say hello, I hear the incoherent sobs of my sister reaching out through the phone lines. I ask Alex for a minute and step away just as his phone rings.
“Rach? What’s wrong?”
“If he calls you, don’t tell him you’ve talked to me.” She’s gone from crying to yelling.
“He who? Bryan?”
“Of course Bryan. Who else would I be talking about?” Her voice lowers several octaves while she takes a few deep breaths which echo through the phone. “Is it okay if I stay at your place for a few days?”
“Of course, Rach.” I look to Alex still seated at our table, also talking on the phone, face etched with confusion. “Are you going to tell me why?”
“Cause my ex-fiancé is a d-i-c-k, dick. He thinks he can pull that stupid bros before hoes bullshit with me. Ha-fucking-ha. I don’t need him if he thinks...”
“Ex? Rachel…I’m not taking sides but that doesn’t sound like Bryan.”
“Yah, go and defend the guy that basically said you were stringing Alex along as if he was your little puppy on a leash while you had your cake and ate it too with Oliver.”
“What?” I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. “This argument is because of me?”
“He made a comment making Alex out to be the victim and making it sound as if you were some coldhearted villain. He doesn’t know his head from his asshole as far as I’m concerned. We started arguing and…then he left to go out with the guys and didn’t come home till four in the morning. If he thinks I’m going to put up with this shit…he has another thing coming.”
“Rach…”
“So, I left and now I’m on my way to your house. I have the spare key. Just don’t tell him where I’m at. Please El; I don’t want to see him right now.” Rachel can be stubborn at times, but most especially when she’s pissed.
“Do you need anything?” I honestly don’t know what to say to her. I’m incredibly sad she’s so upset over something that has nothing to do with either of them. This is about me and my issues with Alex.
“Just a bath and a warm bed.”
“Well, my place has both. Call me if you need anything else. I should be home tomorrow.”
Rachel says goodnight after reminding me once again not to tell Bryan anything. I’m sure my sister is blowing his comments out of proportion; however, I can’t say it doesn’t bother me that Bryan thinks less of me when all I’m trying to do is protect Alex, not break him. I sigh in defeat and head back to the table. I catch the tail end of Alex’s conversation as I sit down.
“Where do you think she would go? No, she’s here in Reno with me.” Alex lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I’m sure she just needs to calm down. Once she does, she’ll call you.” Alex reaches over, readying the fork with another sweet bite before bringing it up to my mouth. “I’ll call you if I hear anything.” He ends his conversation while I savor another bite.
“Bryan?”
“Rachel?”
We both nod in unison. “Did he tell you why they were arguing?” Alex nods with a forkful of gooey Twinkie in his mouth.
“Did she tell you?” I nod as well.
We end the conversation there, refusing to discuss the topic any further. We both know their turmoil is because of us and I briefly wonder to myself if Alex shares the same opinions as Bryan. Does he think I’m stringing him along while getting my bean flicked on the side by Oliver?
“You ready to go?” he interrupts my inner ramblings. Well, I guess we aren’t going to fix anything when we are over four hundred miles away. Standing, Alex extends his hand to help me up. When I’m fully upright, he pulls me flush against him and looks down at me, caressing my cheek. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”
CHAPTER 14
There’s something about a man who leads a woman into a room by the small of her back. It’s possessive, it’s caring, and it’s downright sexy. So, as Alex leads me to the back of the bar where the pool tables are situated, my body hums with desire. I guess the myth that pregnancy causes women to turn into nymphomaniacs is true.
Pregnancy plus Alex equals a constant ache of longing that nothing seems to quench. That’s not to say I was anywhere near prudish with him before the added hormones, but now, now I can hardly stay away from his touch. Now that I’ve had a taste of how it really could be, how attentive and loving he really is, my body trembles for him. Even when his hands barely whisper over my body, instant goose-bumps spread across every inch of my skin. Knowing Alex is ready and more than able is too much of a temptation. A feeling so strong, that I either need to satisfy or extinguish.
“What do you want to drink?” Alex inquires, pulling out a chair for me.
“Water please.” I nervously look anywhere but into his smoldering face, hoping he doesn’t question my lack of alcohol.
“Water?” He tilts his head and looks at me inquisitively. “That’s no fun. How am I supposed to get the truth out of you?”
“You’re making it seem as if I’ve been lying to you.”
“Haven’t you? I’ve been asking you for answers since I got back from New York. You’re avoiding me. You may not be lying, but you’re not telling me everything.”
If he only knew.
He’s not the only one who’s been affected by my indecisiveness. I’ve been experiencing my own whiplash; even more now than ever. Being outside the confines of Las Vegas is like breathing for the first time; like taking first steps on my own. Without the worries of Arianna and the impending doom hanging over my head, I’ve been able to relish the feeling of just being with Alex.
Being with him, like we were in San Diego, reminds me of a simpler time. It reminds me of everything I loved about being with him. All I see, feel, think about is him. When we have a chance to just be, even if we did agre
e to only spend time together, it’s nice because there are no expectations, no preconceptions.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, cringing at my words. Such a loaded question.
Alex leans over, his breath touches my lobe while his words beat against the flimsy wall I’ve tried to build around my heart. “There’s so much, Hart, so much.” He turns his head to look at me. His eyes burning into my soul, ripping away every shred of defiance I’ve been holding onto. “But first, I need to go fetch some water.” He smiles and strides away.
I turn to watch him approach the bar. I’m not surprised when I catch almost all of the female population either twirling their hair, pushing up their breasts, or pouting their lips in his direction, hoping for a crumb of attention. I can’t blame them. I know exactly how it feels to be under his spell. Like a puppet, all he has to do is pull my strings and I bend at his whim.
The bartender leans in, talking into his ear over the noise of the bar. Alex flashes his dimpled smile and I swear I hear a unified moan from all of his admirers, including myself. He’s flawless with his crystal blue eyes, his defined chin, kiss worthy lips, and body made for pleasure. I was blessed to have had him once, but it’s an absolute miracle that he still wants me after all of my efforts to push him away. Anyone of sound mind would have given up by now, but then again, Alex has never pretended to be sane when it came to me.
Walking back, he flashes me his sexy grin, carrying a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. When he begins to move his hips, swaying to the music, I shake my head and smile right back. Playfulness suits him. Ten seconds later, he pulls back a large drink from his frosty bottle and settles into his seat.
“I’m curious, why’d you choose a bar of all places?” I question, taking in our surroundings. We left the skating rink and we agreed that it was his turn to pick our venue for the night. I would have thought he’d choose a much quieter place, seeing as we were playing a game of truth.
Alex shakes his head, his gaze dropping to his bottle; his finger wiping away the sweat dripping down the amber glass. “I guess, maybe unconsciously, I’m trying to rewrite our past.” I squint my eyes and purse my lips as he clarifies. “When I was in New York, I thought about the moment…the one I’d do differently.”
My heart sinks.
“I’ve never regretted my life. Every fucked up second of my childhood, into my even more fucked up adolescence, I’ve never regretted what I’ve been dealt. I’ve never wished for a do over. Maybe a small part of me thought I deserved what life gave me. That was until I met you. And I can honestly say the only moment I’ve ever regretted was that night in the bar. The night I had you take me to the airport instead of staying with you. I never should have left.”
“Alex…” He reaches over taking my hands in his. He made the right choice; the responsible choice.
“Elyssa…don’t you understand? I know what I said earlier, but this is my chance, my chance to rewrite our ending. Our chance for happiness. That’s not going to happen with anyone else. It’s you…it’s always been you, and there will never be another for me but you.”
I clutch my belly and take my trembling lip between my teeth.
“So for tonight…let’s pretend that I never left. Let’s pretend that the past couple of months never happened.” I nod, blotting my tears with the back of my hand. I want this just as much as he does and I don’t know if it should make me happy or sad.
“So…tonight, this is how it should have been. No tears. Only happiness. We deserve this.” He pauses, taking a drink of his beer. “Now are you ready to get your ass handed to you or what?” he smirks, leaning in to wipe away a stray tear from my cheek.
“Pool is what you had in mind, to re-write our history?” I jest, trying to push away the momentary thoughts of sadness.
Alex gets up, racking the balls before striding over to pull a stick off the nearby wall. “It’s my favorite contact sport.” Contact sport?
I take a swig of water before slamming it down on the table and grab a stick for myself. If there’s one thing in life I’ve learned, through years in the insurance business, is fake it till you make it. I may not know everything there is to know, but if I seem confidant, I have one up on the next girl. Not ever having played pool before doesn’t mean I have to show it. Alex didn’t tell me he never skated before, so now it’s my turn to pretend. Two can play this game.
I watch Alex as he runs the blue chalk across the point of his pool stick. I mimic him before brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek. He chuckles from across the table, covering his dimpled grin while I glare playfully in his direction. “What’s so funny, Mr. James?”
Resting his stick against the table, Alex walks toward me, stopping mere inches before our bodies are lined perfectly together. He sucks in his lower lip, his eyes running appreciatively from my legs up to my breasts, finally ending on my face.
My insides twist, my loins ache, every time he looks at me this way. My Mom once told me that emotions are not expressed in the words people say, but more in the way someone looks at you. Alex’s eyes speak a thousand words of adoration and devotion; all I see in the crystal blue reflection is me.
Toying with the pendent at the base of my throat, Alex slowly runs his fingers along the curve of my neck, up to my chin. My already jagged breath slows even further. My eyes flutter when he grasps the side of my face, pulling me in closer. When his fingers run through the hair on the back of my neck my breath hitches. “Alex, what are you doing?”
He leans in, scents me and whispers, “You have blue chalk on your cheek, Hart.” He chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb across my skin before releasing me and walking away. I glare at him. He’s playing more than just pool tonight and he’s playing dirty. “Do you want to break?”
“Break?” I question, looking from him to the table and back.
Alex points his chin at the table. “The balls. Do you want to shoot first?”
“Oh-um, I think you should go first.” Shit, he’s going to see right through me.
He sets up his shot, his forearms flexing as he steadies his stick. I can see why Alex picked pool. His body bent over the table, his muscles flexed: this scene is every girl’s wet dream. Images of Alex laying me against the green material, legs wrapped around his torso, fisting my skirt at my waist to…
“Elyssa?” My eyes shoot to Alex, who’s watching me with fascination. “It’s your turn. You’re solids.”
My cheeks flush. Head back in the game, Ely! “Solids?”
He laughs, “You’ve never played have you?” I shake my head sheepishly. “I was kinda counting on that,” he whispers so low I’m not sure if I was meant to hear. He reaches over, pulling me to him; my back resting against his front as he whispers instructions in my ear. He’s really testing my resolve tonight. I guess this really is a contact sport.
With the stick properly placed in my hands, Alex bends me over the table. I can feel him behind me; muscular torso and hips pressed against me. He’s aroused and apparently not shy about it, unabashedly allowing his erection to rub against the cheeks of my ass. I try to ignore my growing need and focus on the white ball sitting in front of me. Alex helps me glide the stick along my fingers. Back and forth. The sensation is borderline erotic and the setting has turned intimate in the matter of minutes while I allow the smooth wood to run between my fingers. Back and forth.
The clatter of the bottles, the laughter and loud banter, the pounding music, nothing exists except for the two of us. Everything else is white noise.
The only way I know this position, this blatant flirting, has affected Alex is by his audible deep breaths and loud swallows. His arms tighten around me, pushing the stick forward; the momentum of our bodies rolls the ball forward at warp speed before sinking into the far right corner. I push against him in excitement. Turning around to face him, his unconcealed arousal press’s against my belly. My eyes focus on his muscular chest as he tilts my face up to his.
&
nbsp; “You’re a quick learner,” he mutters gruffly.
“You’re a pretty good teacher.” I rest my hand over his heart, pulling my body closer to his. Don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t. Every time we’re near it’s as if we’re magnetically drawn together. Whenever we’re in this magnetic field, an unseen force so strong compels us to be as close to each other, with or without touching. In our case, however, we can’t get past the no touching part.
“I’m not sure this was such a good idea,” Alex chuckles as he gestures to his lower half. “I’m supposed to be playing hard to get and my damn body can’t seem to get with the program.”
I smile up at him. “Well maybe when you told it to play hard…it misunderstood,” I joke, letting my fingers run down his chest.
“You need to stop that, Elyssa.” Alex’s eyes close, his jaw flexes, and a groan rumbles in his chest. But, not once does he try to stop me.
“Sorry, you said this was a contact sport. I’m just hoping to distract you and throw you off your game,” I tease, and because he’s right, I push against his chest. “It’s still my turn, right?”
Alex nods and jokes about needing a cold one. I’m not sure if he’s referring to his beer or a shower. Either way, I love that I still affect him. We take turns making shots, which not surprisingly, Alex sinks the majority of them. I like the fact that he doesn’t let me win because I’m a girl. He actually makes me fight for it.
“Alright show off, you win.” I return my pool stick to the wall with Alex following closely behind.
“You ready to answer a question?” He leads me, again with his hand on the small of my back, to our table and finishes off his second beer. I nod hesitantly, but only because I know there’s no avoiding the inevitable. I already know what his next question will be, only because if I were him, I’d ask the same thing.