“She was dancing. If you can call it that. With your brother.”
Speaking of my brother. “Diego!” I hear my name being called from somewhere else in the house. The chant of my name is getting closer until Sebastian appears in the doorway with Izzy. “Hey,” he comes into the room. “We’re taking off. You got a ride home?”
It takes everything to focus on Baz and not stare at Izzy. “Mmmhmmm,” I mumble, because I’m afraid my tongue may roll out as Damien’s did earlier. A glance from the corner of my eye in Damien’s direction, says his tongue is out again. I lift an eyebrow to Baz and nod in the direction of his date, silently questioning whether or not he was going to introduce us. With a roll of his eyes, he gives me a barely perceptible nod.
“Izzy, Diego. Diego, Izzy.”
I take the opportunity to look in Izzy’s direction and devour her with my eyes. “Nice to meet you, Izzy.” I practically hum her name and Baz is rolling his eyes again and dragging her away from my attention. Her eyes smile at me with mischief as Baz pulls her out the door and toward the stairs.
“You’re a fucking bastard. You know that?” Damien’s insult shakes me from the trance the mere sight of Izzy put me in.
“Whaaat?” I ask incredulously. “What the fuck did I do?”
“You have a gaggle of blondes piled up in the door and you can’t leave well enough alone with your brother’s date. While I could pretend the look earlier might have been for me, there’s no mistaking that she was eye-fucking you through your brother’s quick introduction.” He lets out a sigh.
A chuckle slips past my lips and I try to look like I had the humility to feel ashamed for anything tonight. “What can I say? I’m a blessing and a curse.”
With that, he kicks my left foot out from under me and I fall from my precarious position on the edge of his bed. Damien is too busy cracking up to notice I was literally about to pull the sheet out from under him. In one swift motion, from my place on the floor next to his bed, I manage to yank the sheet sending him tumbling over the corner of his bed to the side adjacent to my current position.
I spring up from the floor and offer Damien a hand to get to his feet. He’s still inebriated as fuck, but standing remarkably well. “Time for my ass to get to my bed. So, she was dancing?”
The flit of confusion across his face is quickly replaced with a smirk. “Yup,” he pops the ‘p.’ “Some Spanish song. Nearly stopped the rest of those dancing.” He shakes his head.
“Damn.” I scrub my hands over my face and try not to regret missing an opportunity to see that dark-haired vixen gyrate her hips in exchange for a subpar blow job. “Laters,” I call back to Damien from the hall. He’s now looking way worse for the wear, his eyes slitted and his whole body swaying. The look is fleeting as he shakes his head, throws me a weird grin and directs his attention to the small group of girls waiting outside the upstairs bathroom.
I make my way through the dwindled crowd and say my good-byes to those found on my path to the front door. I hear a couple of guys talking as I cross the front threshold. “Holy shit! That was fucking hot. I think CJ recorded it. Pretty sure I saw him filming.”
Fuck! There’s a video of her dancing?
Bed will have to wait.
Time to find CJ.
I’m barely out the door of the admissions office when I’ve got my phone in hand and hitting the speed dial setting for Baz. It’s been a week and I cannot get that fucking beauty out of my head. The cute little redhead that normally works the counter was out and the battle ax in her place wasn’t moved by my charms.
I’m fucking screwed if Baz is really into her.
“Hey, Baaaazz,” I draw out when he picks up gruffly.
“No fucking way, mano. Go find your own.” I can’t hide the chuckle his response pulls from me. “Damn it, Diego.” He must’ve heard I’ve been trying to find Izzy.
“I assume it’s safe to say you’re home, or at least not with the gorgeous Izzy you showed up with the other night.”
“Fuck off!” he barks into the phone.
“Heard she put on quite a show dancing with you,” I goad him.
“I’m hanging up.”
“Heard CJ got it on video,” I taunt, knowing full well that CJ’s drunk ass was too busy drooling over Izzy that the video he took was aimed up and to the right from his shoulder. It was a shaky video of the corner formed where wall meets ceiling. “So, what’s the deal, mano?”
His answer is a groan.
“C’mon, Baz. You into her? Like, for real?” I can hear the impatience in my voice. If it wasn’t my voice, I’d say those words were ones of a desperate man.
His silence is infuriating. “Sebastian,” I say, low and stern. I want a real answer from him. An honest one. I need to know if I stop looking and find a duo or trio to shake the beauty that is Izzy or if I continue on my mission to find her, have my fill of her, and hope this spell she has me under is broken.
With a sigh, Baz breaks his temporary vow of silence. “I don’t know. She’s a cool chick,” he starts. I can hear the struggle behind his words, the conflict raging war in his mind is evident. “She’s hot as fuck, but when we were alone after we left the party, we sat in the parking lot of the restaurant we met at for dinner and talked. We fucking talked.” His last statement was heavy with confusion. “I need to get my dick and head checked, because I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking beautiful she was, but both were completely content to enjoy the conversation. Even when it turned to you…”
“Me?” That one word came out squeaky and squawky. I drop my voice needing to sound more incredulous and less excited. Or was it less nervous? “What about me?” I overcompensated and the question comes out like a growl.
It’s Baz’s turn to chuckle. “I think she liked you. Though I can’t see why.” The annoyance in his voice tells me there was a roll of his eyes with his revelation. “One thing, Diego. Don’t fuck with this one. Be the gentleman Lito taught us to be. I’d like to keep Izzy as a friend if at all possible.”
I take a moment to consider what he’s asking. I’m a serial one-night lover. I don’t do girlfriends, because soccer and school have to come first. “Although,” he continues, “I got the impression that she’s not really into dating. So, maybe even you couldn’t fuck this up.”
Doesn’t date, huh? Sounds like my kind of girl.
“I’m sure you know this, but I’ve been trying to find her. Broke down and went to ask Red at admissions for her class schedule. Prepared this great story, only to find out Red’s not working in admissions this week. Old Mother Hubbard in her place wouldn’t give my pathetic story a moment of her time.”
“You were gonna ask Red? You in love, bro?”
“Fuck you. Just haven’t been able to get her out of my head.”
“Think you’ve got something to prove to yourself, mano. Pretty girl like Izzy didn’t fall at your feet. Did she challenge your ego?” He erupts into a hearty laugh. “This could be fun watching you crash and burn with her.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to crash and burn with her, bro. Now help me out and tell me where to look for her.”
Chapter Five: Mr. Brightside (Part 3)
January 2007
Baz had been a motherfucker, making me pull the goddamn information out of him.
He looked so disappointed in me the other night. Ugh. I hate disappointing the people that love me. Even if my behavior isn’t at fault here, it’s the possibility. In the limelight, no one cares about the fucking truth; that’s why you don’t have secrets. Fuck.
Throwing back the rest of glass number five, I found some bread in the kitchen.
That had been a helluva first date. The kiss nearly killed me.
Chapter Six: Kiss Me
August 1998
&n
bsp; Is this chick for real? At the mention of my field nickname, the only thing I saw on her face was confusion. Something tells me she wouldn’t be too impressed to discover I was the university’s rock-star top-scoring midfielder.
The amber light casts a halo of yellow around Izzy and she takes my breath away. All sensibility gone, my focus singular: melding my lips to hers and tangling our tongues. Doubt skirts passed my brain before I take without asking. “Hey, Izzy. Can I kiss you?”
“I, uh…” When she doesn’t say more, she nods.
I don’t waste a second once she gives me the ‘go-ahead.’ My right hand reaches up for the back of her neck with a light grip, my other circles around her waist, drawing her closer. I lean the rest of the way down to reach her mouth with mine. With a squeeze of my hand at her neck, I close the distance between our lips and painfully part hers gently. I keep it soft and sweet, holding back the intense need to claim her with every plunge of my tongue, swirling it in a dance with hers. Melting into me, she fists her hands into my t-shirt and for a moment, everything—including time and space—ceased to exist outside of the two of us. I saw her naked in my bed hovering above me as she rode—
Fuck! That was close. Reckless abandon nearly took over. Pulling away was no easy feat, but I already know I want more than this night with this woman. Still holding her close, I slip my left hand into the back pocket of her pants to grab her phone.
Panting, she breathlessly asks me what I’m doing with her phone. Before I can explain, my phones ringing and I’m quickly punching in the information to save as contact. B-e-l-l-a. And save.
“I need to get back before curfew, but I’m gonna call you, okay?”
Shit! Not sure why I said that. I’m sure the word curfew is setting up a barrage of stop signs in her head.
“Curfew?”
Yup, she caught it.
“Big day tomorrow, I go to bed by midnight.” I give her an impish grin. “I made a promise to my grandfather to take school and all that it entails seriously.”
That’s not a lie. Just not a whole truth.
“Wanna ride?”
The blush rushes to her cheeks when she realizes how her innocent offer can be misconstrued.
“Not tonight, Izzy,” I say with a wink. “Rain check?”
“That’s not what I meant,” she says with a sigh. I open her door for her and she lowers herself into the beautiful vintage car.
“I’ll call you,” I squat down to her eye level. I place a chaste kiss on her lips and while my mind races with ideas of the two of us naked in her car, I make myself push away. “Mmmm,” I look into her eyes and hum my approval. “Bella mía.”
My beautiful? Where the fuck did that come from?
On that note, I push up and shut her door. I quickly jog off from where Izzy is parked, resisting the urge to look back. That hungry look in her eyes after that last kiss nearly decimated my good-sense and had me tearing the clothes from her body so I could worship every fucking inch of her.
I think about what would’ve happened if I let Izzy drive me home as I bound back to campus. I image her prone and writhing on my tongue—
Honk!
“Fuck!” I tap the hood of the car that nearly clipped me coming around the corner. This woman is going to be the death of me. I train my thoughts to the first game of the regular season. I’ll have better odds of making it home in one piece with this line of thinking.
I give up thinking about anything when each vision of the field and scoring turns to images of seeing Izzy shaking with an orgasm I gave her. I’m about two buildings from mine. At this pace, I should be in my room in less than five.
I don’t clear my building’s doors before I flip open my phone and dial Izzy. I know she’s supposed to be studying, so I’ll just leave her a message. I enter my dorm and plop on the bed as her outgoing message instructs me what to do, “Hey!” She answered! “Ha, ha. Can’t talk. Leave me a message. Or don’t.” Isn’t she clever?
“Hey, Izzy. Thanks for the first date. Can’t wait to take you out on our second.” I shut my phone to disconnect. Having the perfect date in mind, I call her back.
“Hello?”
Oh shit! She answered.
Her voice hinted at her bewilderment. If I had to guess, she’s wondering why the hell I’m calling a second time only minutes after having just spent a couple of hours with her. She’s probably trying to decide if I’m stalker or stud. “Are you at the library?” I don’t give her time to think about it with my quick question.
“Actually, there was this guy and a kiss.” I can hear the blush that must be tinting her cheeks. She stutters through her confession. “I, uh, was headed home before I remembered where I was supposed to go.”
And I laugh. I suppose her state of daze was less than my own. If she only knew where my mind had been after that kiss and what it almost cost me.
“Must’ve been some guy, some kiss.”
“You could say that,” she laughs lightly. “You’re not going to ask me about the guy or the kiss?”
She’s trying to goad me into thinking I’m not the guy; that it wasn’t my kiss. “Both sound pretty amazing if they distracted you.”
“Uh, huh. Pretty proud of yourself aren’t you?”
“I’ve got skills, Izzy. You’ll see…” I trail off. “That was nothing.” That scene that just about made me roadkill comes to life in my mind.
“What makes you think I want to see your skills?” she taunts, shaking me from my daydream.
“I believe the better question is: Who wouldn’t want to see my skills?” She let out an exasperated laugh. I can practically hear the roll of her eyes in it. She ends with a hum that makes my dick twitch and my balls tighten.
“I like that sound coming from you. What are you doing?”
“I’m curled up on a lounge with a blanket looking at the reflection of the moon on the ocean.”
Her description paints a vivid image of her on top of me, the ocean and sky she described a backdrop to this reimagined daydream. She breaks the silence with my name, “Diego?”
“Hmmm?” I hum in question; my mind still on what it would feel like running my hands across her silky skin, exploring her gorgeous-fucking tits, pounding into her until—
“What are you doing?”
Uh. I don’t think the truth will help me here.
“So, do you follow any of the sports at school?” I not so smoothly avoided her question, but she lets it slide telling me she basically liked but didn’t follow any. “My dad was a die-hard Raiders fan, especially when they were in Los Angeles, but our thing was always music.”
“Izzy, that’s the second time you talked about your parents in the past tense tonight.”
Not that I was really counting, but there was something about the way she said it that stuck.
With a sigh, she gives me the short of it: a few years ago, her parents died in an accident. “But let’s not talk about that, I’m not ready to chase you off yet.”
My laugh isn’t quite as hearty after the heavy information, but I don’t miss her taunt. “Ohhhh,” I draw out the word, admonishing her. “Izzy, bella, you underestimate my tenacity to obtain what I want.”
“I haven’t decided if I want you yet,” the squeak in her voice betrays her lie. “Let’s play a game of twenty questions and I’ll decide at the end.”
“I’m game, but be prepared…I’ve got a dirty mind and I’m not afraid to speak it,” I tease to my own demise as my dirty mind pictures Izzy blissed out from the multiple orgasms I gave her. I adjust my raging hard-on.
“How old are you?” Oh, I see she hasn’t forgotten my earlier dodges.
“I’ll be nineteen in a little over a month,” I answer simply. “How ol—”
“Why didn�
�t you answer that question earlier?” she interrupts.
I stifle a laugh. “Is that your second question, Izzy?” I know she’s not going to be able to leave it alone.
“No,” she grunts in frustration.
“How old are you, Izzy?” I proceed with my question.
“Twenty-two,” she answers easily. “Okay,” she says before I can say anything else. “That is my second question. Why didn’t you answer with your age earlier?”
I knew she wouldn’t let this go. I shake with a laugh. “Ha ha. Izzy, I’m not old enough to legally drink. That’s not exactly a selling point. While it doesn’t bother me that you’re older, I certainly wasn’t ready to send you running for the hills.”
She snorts. “And now you can be honest, because?” she draws out the last word waiting for me to finish explaining.
“What was it you said earlier?” I pause. “Oh yeah, ‘There was this guy and a kiss.’ I think it’s safe to say my age won’t be an issue anymore.”
She laughs and I wonder if there’s anything I wouldn’t do to hear that sound again.
“My turn. Do you have something against jocks?” I figure it’s now or never. Go big or go home. I might as well see if the cards are already stacked against me.
“Uhh, no. Not necessarily. It’s just been my observation that they’re as badly behaved as rockers.”
I can work with that. Don’t act like a badly behaved rocker. Check. I reach for the water bottle on the crate that serves as my bedside table. “So, you mentioned at dinner a few sports you liked. Are there any you don’t like?”
She answers without hesitation, not noticing I’ve skipped her turn to ask a question.
“Easy. It’s soccer. Of all the sports my dad tried to get me into, soccer was the only one that made pulling my fingernails off with pliers sound fun.” I choke on the sip of water in my mouth as quietly as possible, so that Izzy will continue. I can’t imagine what else she’ll add to this. The irony pulls at the corners of my mouth. “My dad tried to take me to a game once. The day before the game, I fractured my wrist boxing. Dad insisted I did it to get out of going to the game,” she chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I muttered something like, ‘I wish’ and chocked it up to fate working in mysterious ways.”
Love Needs Another Chance (Truth About Love #3) Page 3