Dances with Monsters

by D. C. Ruins

  "You must be Toni," Heath said politely.

  "That's me," Toni said, sipping demurely at her wine. "I would grill you now, but it can wait until tomorrow. I don't want to scare you off before you come over."

  "Uh - thank you," Heath said, bobbing his head in appreciation while shooting Drew a quick wink.

  "Okay, okay, Toni," Nik said, pressing her sister's arm. She smiled charmingly at Heath. "It's good to see you again," she said graciously.

  "Thanks, you too," he replied. "So are you also going to wait to read me the riot act?"

  "Of course," Nik said. "I prefer to let my victims squirm." She smiled innocently and Heath laughed out loud.

  "Hey, I get it," he said, lifting his hands in the air. "I like overprotective siblings."

  "Speaking of siblings," Nik said, nodding toward Connor. "Are you going to introduce him?"

  "Oh, sorry," Heath said hurriedly, reaching behind him for his brother's shoulder.

  "What's with you forgetting about me all the time?" Connor demanded, then smiled at Drew's sisters, reaching out to shake their hands, then reached for Bunz's hand. "It seems to happen around beautiful women, apparently."

  His compliments went over well, and conversation quickly fell underway. Anthony made his way over to Bunz's side, and the group began chatting animatedly.

  Drew drifted in and out of their conversation as the crowd at the bar picked up. Between her sisters and Bunz, and the clientele that found out it was her last night, Drew was plied with various shots and drinks. She had a good, strong head for liquor and could usually drink more than the average woman of her height and weight but she was definitely starting to feel the shots. But she was having fun, more fun than she'd ever had at Cliff's, and in her drunken haze she wondered if she was making a mistake by quitting.

  Too late now, she thought with a shake of her head. She knew she didn't really mean it. She glanced over at the group of her friends and family, smiling as she saw that everyone was talking animatedly. Her sisters seemed to be on their best friendly behavior although she knew that tomorrow they'd read Heath "the riot act", as he'd phrased it.

  Her eyes strayed to him, leaning on the bar, listening quietly to Connor relay a humorous story from their childhood. She cocked her head, wondering if it was a true story now that she knew more about the circumstances under which they had been raised. She assumed it was since Heath had a slight smile on his face as he listened, a smile that seemed genuinely amused. She noticed also, pouring out a glass of red wine for a woman in front of her, that he looked incredibly good, dressed in a charcoal gray button-up, the sleeves pushed to his thick, powerful forearms, and dark jeans. She suddenly felt wetness on her hand and realized she had overfilled the wine glass and it sluiced down the sides.

  "Shit!" she hissed, stopping herself. She grabbed a fresh glass and poured it out properly, serving it with an apologetic smile. She glanced over again and saw that while Heath's face was still tilted toward the bar as it had been while he listened to Connor, his eyes had lifted to Drew and he'd caught her slipping. He flashed her a quick, full smile, letting her know he'd seen the whole thing, and then looked away.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur as Drew worked the bar and downed more shots from the patrons. An hour before closing, Cliff came out to replace her behind the bar and told her to go have fun. The DJ started playing all her favorite music, and she took to the dance floor with her sisters and Bunz. A few of the waitresses stopped in their duties occasionally to dance with her. Drew felt completely exuberant as she danced, tilting back her head to laugh, spinning as the room spun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. As she finished a turn, her eyes fell on Heath once again and she licked her lips. She knew of only one way to end such a great evening properly.

  ***

  Heath leaned against the bar and sipped at his club soda with lime, his eyes glued to Drew as she danced with her sisters and her friends on the small dance floor in front of the DJ booth. He knew that Rex and Jameson and his brother and Bunz's boyfriend Anthony were conversing around him but he couldn't focus on anything they were saying. He couldn't focus on anything but the way Drew looked when she danced.

  He'd seen her dance before, at the studio. That had been for art, for her showcase piece. The dancing she was doing now was purely for fun and it was so much sexier. It wasn't sexy in a salacious way; she was clearly just having fun. But every move her body made was rhythmic, graceful, smooth. It was a huge turn-on, and moreover, he'd never seen her let go in such a way before, and he found it really refreshing.

  His eyes slid down her body, and he felt a strange pang of guilt in doing so. The night at her apartment was fresh in his mind, her obvious cry for help, for a friend. He shouldn't be thinking of her that way.

  As the DJ wrapped up his set, the girls all started moving back toward them. He narrowed his eyes and could tell by the way she swayed slightly in her tall heels that Drew was pretty drunk. He was actually surprised at her dexterity, considering all the shots she'd had poured down her throat. She could obviously drink.

  "We're taking off," Nik was telling her sister. "We've got kids and everything."

  "Aw, you're so lame," Drew said, pouting. She smiled then and embraced her sisters.

  "How are you getting home?" Toni demanded.

  "Bunz, or something," Drew replied vaguely.

  Heath glanced at Bunz, who was currently being nuzzled by her boyfriend. By the looks of things, she wasn't going to be too keen on playing chauffeur again.

  Drew hugged her sisters again, then Nik turned toward him. She smiled.

  "Good seeing you again," she said brightly. "See you at dinner tomorrow."

  "Yeah, sleep tight," Toni chimed in. "You'll need it." They both smiled sweetly and slipped out into the night.

  He felt Connor's hand clamp down on his shoulder. "Those are some scary chicks," he said. "Good luck tomorrow. I'm heading out."

  "Can I get a minute?" Heath exclaimed. "You know, since I drove and everything."

  Connor laughed. "I meant, I'm taking a cab."

  Heath stared at him. "Why the hell would you do that?" he asked, mystified.

  Connor glanced at Drew, who was hugging some of the cocktail waitresses goodbye and frowned, jerking his head toward her. "Take the lady home, man," Connor said softly, then clapped Heath on the shoulder before leaving the lounge.

  Heath stood uncertainly, then caught Bunz's eye and flicked his head toward her. They each took a step toward the other.

  "Hey, I can take her home," Heath said.

  Bunz eyed him suspiciously. "She's pretty drunk. I should make sure she gets home okay."

  "I got it," Heath insisted gently. "It's no problem."

  "Baby, let the man take her home," Anthony said, appearing behind her, clasping her shoulders and leaning into her neck. Heath smirked.

  Bunz glanced at her boyfriend through heavily lidded eyes then turned back to Heath.

  "If you're sure," she said, still somewhat uncertain. Heath nodded. Bunz shrugged and moved toward Drew to speak into her ear. Drew's eyes cut toward him as she listened to Bunz, then she nodded and reached out to hug her friend, her eyes still on him. Unless he was mistaken, it looked like her dark eyes went even darker as she looked at him.

  After Bunz and Anthony left, Drew walked up to him. She tilted her head back and shook her head slightly, the ripples traveling the length of her shiny dark hair cascading down her back. He was mesmerized by it, and her lips curled into a smile as she followed his eyes.

  "So, you're my chauffeur," she said, wobbling just a little in her shoes. "Hope your brother doesn't mind his car going all the way out to Little Italy again."

  Heath smirked at her and popped a toothpick in his mouth. "It's not his car going to Little Italy. It's mine. And he took a cab home."

  She watched him chew the toothpick, her eyes widening slightly. "You have a car?" she repeated. "Since when?"

  "Since a few months
ago," Heath replied.

  "Well...why do you always take the bus and the train then?"

  "Saves gas and money," he replied. "Plus parking anywhere in this city is a bitch." He nodded toward the door as he saw her eyes lose their focus a little. "Why don't you get your stuff and I'll take you back home. You, uh...you hit it a little hard tonight."

  She smiled, then giggled. "I did, didn't I?" she exclaimed. "I'll be right back." He watched her teeter off toward the back, stumbling in her heels.

  He knew what had happened the last time he'd left her to go get the car, and he didn't want to risk putting her through that again. He waited patiently by the door for her, chewing on his toothpick, until she reappeared from the back, tugging a long black cardigan around herself, a bag slung over her shoulder. She crossed the room toward him.

  "We gotta go," she said thickly. "I can't take any more goodbyes."

  He chuckled and gave her his arm for balance as they headed out into the night. "I didn't know this was all so emotional for you."

  "Me either," she said. "I'm not sure why it's so hard now."

  "Maybe all that tequila had something to do with it," he joked, cringing away when he felt her elbow in his ribs sharply. He led her across the street where his black Dodge Charger was parked.

  "How predictable," she teased. He smirked and opened her door for her, making a mock bow as she moved past him to drop into the seat. "Thanks."

  As he drove, he felt her eyes on him. He glanced over briefly and caught her smoky brown eyes locked on him and traveling slowly down his body.

  "What's up?" he asked lightly.

  "Nothing," she replied, her voice suddenly low and velvety. The tone made his ears prick with curiosity. He kept his eyes front the rest of the trip but knew she was still watching him.

  He pulled up to her building and got out to go around and open her door, but he was halfway around the hood of his car when her door opened and she got out, dragging her bag behind her.

  "Walk me to my door?" she asked in that same low tone. Heath was confused; of course he would walk her to her door. Didn't he always?

  "Of course," he replied. Her hand slipped around his elbow again and they took to the stairs toward her floor. He cleared his throat to speak and then suddenly grabbed her arm when she slipped a little.

  "You okay?" he asked, and she laughed.

  "Yes," she replied. "Just a little tipsy I guess."

  She was slurring slightly, and he tightened his hold on her to make sure she cleared the rest of the stairs. They moved down the hallway toward her door, and when they reached it, she turned around and leaned her back on it, grinning at him.

  He cleared his throat again and hesitantly returned her smile, nearly jumping when he felt her hands slide up his chest suddenly.

  "What - what are you doing?" he asked quietly, one of his hands closing around hers and stopping its movement.

  "Nothing," she whispered back, her other hand sliding higher to wrap around his neck. He felt her tug slightly and found himself leaning toward her as she brought her face to his, her full pink lips parted slightly.

  He almost did it, but at the very last second, with every ounce of willpower he had, he turned his head and her moist lips landed on his cheek. He realized he was gripping the doorframe and at her little growl of frustration and want, he tightened his hold.

  "Heath," she whined in a whisper, her hand coming to rest on his cheek and trying to turn his face toward hers. He felt the whisper of her breath against his lips as she tried again. And again, it took all of his strength to pull gently away. This time he reached up and took her wrist in his other hand.

  "Drew," he said quietly. "Come on. You're wasted."

  "Maybe so," she replied. "But I'm not too drunk to know that I want you." She pulled her wrist from his grasp, his hand too willing and eager to let it go, and this time she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled her face closer. Her lips brushed his before he took a step back, breaking her hold.

  "Don't," he said gently. "Not like this."

  "Don't you want to kiss me?" she asked, leaning her head back against the door.

  "Not if it means taking advantage of the fact that you're drunk," he replied. "Let's go inside."

  Wordlessly she turned her back and dug through her purse until she came up with her keys. Heath squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and wondered if he was crazy. A gorgeous, sexy girl he was getting to be quite fond of had thrown herself at him, told him she wanted him, and he was saying no? He almost reconsidered, almost grabbed her then and pressed her against the door, but then the image of her cut ankle passed through his mind, the image of her tears, and he shook his head. She didn't need someone to sleep with; she needed a friend. And he would be that friend, even if it killed him.

  She finally got the door unlocked and almost fell through it when it opened. He grabbed the back of her sweater to keep her from falling and then hauled her in to grasp her waist.

  "All right," he murmured. "Time for bed." He was used to putting drunk people to bed - his father, some Marine buddies; he'd had more than enough experience but he felt protective over Drew rather than the annoyance he usually felt in situations like these.

  "Hey, Rocky," he said, spotting the cat curled up on the blanket draped over the back of the couch. As if in answer, Rocky gave a wide yawn, showing off his long, sharp canines, and then made a tiny squeaking, chirping noise that Heath took as a form of greeting.

  "Just puttin' your mom to bed," he added to the cat, before steering Drew into her bedroom.

  "You talkin' to my cat?" she mumbled over her shoulder.

  "I did," he affirmed, then leaned her against the wall of her room. He turned toward her bed to remove the pile of small, decorative pillows and drop them on the floor. Then he pulled her comforter back. He turned back around to face her and his jaw dropped.

  Drew had taken off her cardigan and kicked off her boots, and was in the process of unzipping her leather tube top. She slowly pulled it from her body, her eyes not leaving his, and dropped it on the floor. She wore a strapless lacy black bra underneath. Her hands moved to the waistband of her shorts and she unbuttoned then unzipped them.

  Heath was momentarily frozen, unable to resist the carnal part of himself and do anything more than watch, but when she started to slowly inch her shorts over her hips, and he caught the sight of a matching black lace thong, he snapped out of it.

  "Drew!" he exclaimed, averting his eyes. "Stop."

  "Heath, I'm trying to let you know you can have this," she said, letting her shorts drop off her legs. She stepped out of them and toward him, and as soon as her hands landed on him, his body stirred to life immediately. He shifted uncomfortably as his pants started to grow tight, just below his waist.

  "I know you want it," she whispered and pressed against him, taking one of his hands and wrapping it around her back, letting it settle on her hip. His fingers grazed the lace of her underwear and the smooth, soft skin of the top of her rear end. His body surged at the sensation, and he stepped back from her, still keeping his gaze off her. If he looked at her, he was dead. He knew he would slam her into the mattress and take her like she was all but begging him to do right now.

  She's drunk, he told himself firmly. You're better than this.

  "Drew, go to bed," he said abruptly. "Come on. You're blitzed. You don't even know what you're saying right now."

  Her hands slipped down to his shirt and started to slowly pop open the buttons. With each button undone, his resolve began to weaken, little by little.

  "Sure I do," she whispered into his neck, and he actually shivered. He bit back the curse that bubbled to his lips at the sensation and sighed, gathering his willpower. He closed his hands around her waist, lifted her bodily, and slammed her onto the bed. Her hazy, slightly bloodshot eyes widened a little and she started to smile. The smile quickly disappeared when he yanked the covers over her, still not allowing himself to take a real look at her body, and tucke
d the blankets in tightly around her.

  "Are you serious?" she demanded, staring up at him. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "Drew, I'm not going to do this with you while you're drunk," he said softly, looking down at her. He had to bite back a smile at the look of drunken fury on her face as the covers violently shifted as she sat up.

  "What, am I not good enough or something?" she demanded. "'Cause I'm not one of those plastic bitches from your fan club?"

  "You're actually perfect," he replied calmly. "I just have way too much respect for you to do this when you're wasted."

  "Yeah?" she barreled on, obviously not really hearing him. "Well, fuck you!"

  "Good night, Drew," he said gently. "See you tomorrow." He turned for the door.

  "You're not invited anymore!" she bellowed after him, and her alarm clock came sailing over his shoulder, just clearing it. Rocky heard the noise and shot past Heath's legs and onto her bed.

  He glanced back at her, taking in the covers clutched to her chest and her tousled, wild hair. His hand closed over the doorknob and he gave her a wistful half-smile.

  "Yeah, I am," he said softly. Her chest heaved with rage. "Good night."

  He could still hear her cussing at him as he shut the door behind him and left her apartment. Once he was outside, he blew a hard breath between his lips as he climbed behind the wheel of his car. He'd tried not to look, but he couldn't get the image of her in her black lace bra and thong with her smudged eye makeup and tousled hair out of his brain, and his body wasn't letting him forget it, either.

  "I deserve a medal for that shit," he muttered to himself, then started the car and headed for home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drew woke up with a splitting headache and, for a blessed few moments, no recollection of the previous evening.

  She tried to sit up off of automatic reflex and as a sharp, shooting pain assaulted her head, she fell back against her pillows, groaning. She brought a shaky hand to her forehead as she swallowed against the nausea rising in her throat. After a few deep breaths, the nausea passed and she laid very still, her hand clamped over her eyes to keep the daylight out of them.