Summer Breeze Kisses

by Addison Moore

  Raven bumps her knee to Low’s. “Ten bucks says they hook up and she doesn’t make it home tonight. You don’t put on a dress like that for an ex you claim to despise more than foot fungus.”

  It’s true—the foot fungus thing. “I stand by my claim. The reason I’ve donned such a hip-hugging frock is to look admirable while walking into Enigma. Everyone knows the who’s who of anywhere can be found dining in that very place. And who knows? Maybe there’s a suitor lurking in there for me yet.” I lean in to glare at Raven, and that smug little smile of satisfaction on her face regarding the state of my vagina. “And if I don’t happen to come home tonight, it will be because I met up with a serial killer. I’m much more emotionally prepared to deal with that than I am spending the night with Axel Collins.” I stalk out the door, and both Low and Raven trail me to the porch.

  “Do everything I would do!” Low sings.

  “You’re such a whore,” I grumble as I crawl into my car.

  “Something tells me you’d be a better one!” she sings and my chest rumbles with a laugh because I’m positive she’s right. As much as I want to shove Low out of my life, something in me demands to keep her. There’s just something about her that’s always reminded me of Serena. I’d walk to the moon and back for my sister. And, evidently, I’d let someone in my life just because she reminds me all too much of my little sis, too.

  Raven mimes for me to roll down my passenger’s window, and I reluctantly do.

  She dashes over with that dark curtain of hair collapsing over one side of her face, leaving a bright blue eye staring back at me.

  “In case you decide not to come back tonight, just know that statistically speaking, men are not only far more aroused by women who make the first sexual move, they tend to keep her in the power position for the remainder of the relationship.”

  “What are you saying?” I’m not sure if I should be offended or simply run her over and put her out of her own misery. It must be tiring to be trapped in that head of hers.

  “I’m saying if you want to maintain the power position, strike first blood. Land that boy on his back and make him your bitch.”

  My mouth falls open just as I speed out of my quaint little neighborhood, and the protesters scatter as I almost nail a small clump of them. As if. I wish. Maybe someday if I’m lucky.

  Power position indeed.

  An image of Axel lying beneath me, those hungry eyes of his staring up at mine, his fingers digging into my hips as he pounds me over his body flashes through my mind, and every last inch of me ignites like a candle.

  This is not a date.

  I will not venture to his perverted penthouse where he’s undoubtedly bedded a bevy of bobble-headed beauties.

  I am going straight home after dinner.

  I think.

  At least I darn well better.

  By the time I give my car to the valet and head into Enigma, I spot Axel seated on the balcony alone, the way it most likely should be. But I’m here and the wheels to this hell train have already left the station. The truth is, I’m not only here to nix that nasty nickname he insists on calling me once and for all—although he knows better and is without excuse—but I also want to glean a little more on what happened to poor Emilia. As soon as he uttered that horrible truth, I ran home and looked up what I could on the Internet, only to find that it was a sad fact. There were no details, no hint of a prolonged illness, which could only mean one thing—she was snatched by death when she least expected it. The thought of poor, sweet Emilia disappearing from the earth forever was too much to bear, and I broke my rule and cried a river for her. She was my one true friend on the planet, at least for the year we knew one another. Low pops to mind, and, of course, her slovenly appendage Raven. I suppose they’re friends of sorts. Low for sure at least. Raven is more or less that annoying bonus sampler you never really wanted that smells like old socks. My God, does the girl ever bathe?

  My phone bleats in my purse, and it’s a group text to both Marlin and me from Serena. A picture of her next to that bear mascot they keep in front of the Black Bear pushes an inadvertent smile to my face.

  I text back. Keep out! There are frat boys running loose in there without morals or brain cells.

  I shoot off a private text to Marlin. I’m calling in a report to the Jepson PD— check out the Black Bear. I’m pretty sure a beautiful redhead is about to be accosted. Hightail it up there, would you?

  He texts right back. On my way, sis. But only if you carve out time for coffee with me soon.

  I think on it for a moment. I think I just found the perfect way to ensure I don’t accidentally on purpose test out Axel’s mattress springs.

  Sure thing! Bright and early. How’s eight in the morning? I’ll meet you at Hallowed Grounds. Don’t be late!

  He pings right back. I’ll bring the donuts. ;)

  There. Nothing ensures a little chastity like your gun-wielding brother. There’s no way I’ll end up in that penthouse tonight. In fact, if I want to be able to pry my eyes open at that early hour, I’ll have to cut tonight’s date short and get myself to bed. I love it when I outsmart Axel Collins’ favorite appendage—the one swinging from between his legs.

  I put in my name, and the waitress leads me to the back. Axel offered to pick me up, but I know better than to trap myself with my ex and nary an escape route.

  He rises and turns as if he senses my presence, and his thick cologne hits me as soon as our eyes meet. Axel Collins isn’t playing fair tonight. He’s donned a dark inky suit, smooth silver metallic tie so buttery soft looking I’m craving to both touch and lick it. That thick black hair of his is neatly slicked back, his five o’clock shadow leaves him with that demented stubbled look that I find so irresistible, and a tiny moan crawls up my throat at the sight of him.

  “My God, you’re beautiful.” He takes a step back and lets his eyes take the elevator ride up and down my person. “Lexy.” He closes his eyes a moment as if he were caught up in ecstasy and he might be, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s just lit me like the grand finale at a Fourth of July display.

  “It’s Lex, and if you cross that line one more time, I will not only leave this restaurant, I will leave the state, and you will never see the whites of my eyes for the rest of your days.”

  “My apologies.” He gives a slight bow as he holds out my seat and I take it. “Lex, you look stunning tonight.” He seats himself across from me just as the waitress brings us ice water and a bottle of chardonnay. “If you don’t mind, I took the liberty.”

  “You know me well,” I muse as I flick my finger toward the waitress to get the pour going. I’m in need of some vino. I wouldn’t dare drink and drive, but, at the moment, my need for something stronger than water usurps my need to get home in my own vehicle. I’ll Uber if I have to.

  The waitress does as she’s instructed, and I knock back the glass in three big gulps. “Another, please.” I pick up the menu and peruse the offerings before landing it back onto the table. I look up at the pert nosed blonde. “I’m ready to order. I’ll have the house salad. Hold back the toy box tomatoes. Ratatouille vegetable crepes. And a side of grilled asparagus. If there’s a possibility of adding caviar to any of the above dishes, please do so copiously.” I give a sly wink. “The check’s on him tonight.”

  She chortles into her fingers before taking Axel’s order as well. Something far more simpler: prime rib, dill potatoes. I’ve often said you can glean a lot about a person just by what they order in a restaurant. Axel’s carnivorous pickings and carbs delight suggest he’s gearing up for some calisthenics later on this evening, and he might be. It’s just they won’t involve me.

  “That’s quite a lot of protein you’ve opted for.” I meet up with his eyes and can’t help but note the way they glow in the night. Axel’s eyes were the first thing I noticed about him all those years ago.

  “I plan on doing some weightlifting later this evening.” He sheds a guilty grin. “You’re about
one twenty-five?”

  “Very funny.” My fingers pluck at my knife before hiking it up on its tip in a maneuver that says I know my way around cutlery and I’m not afraid to use it.

  Axel sobers up as he stares pensively at the blade I’m twisting between my fingers. “Do you remember who we were, Lex?”

  “Yes. Broken and lonely and we departed the same way we met.”

  “Not true. The in-between, the happy times.” He drags those sad puppy dog eyes over to mine, and something in my chest pinches. “The middle where we said I love you as easy as spilling water. When we kissed at least ten times between hello and goodbye. You slept in my apartment more than you did your dorm.”

  “That’s because your sheets had a higher thread count.” My cheek hikes up one side as if trying its best to betray me with a smile.

  “They were always softer with you in them.” His brows dip down as if this were a sad truth. “And come to think of it, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep without you there next to me.”

  “Must have made it tough to pass the bar.”

  “It was.” He leans in, and I inadvertently do the same.

  There has always been a gravitational pull between the two of us, and now knowing what I do, it simply means I should have run the other way even faster.

  He reaches over and lands his warm strong hand over mine, heavy and weighted, and I freeze. I hadn’t anticipated touching. For sure I hadn’t anticipated him looking like a hot stud on fire. As much as I loathe it, this boy is right back to drenching my panties, and we haven’t even crested appetizers.

  “Why are you touching me?” I hiss so low the words are hardly audible.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because that’s what I do just before I reach under the table and come up with a pair of male testicles.”

  He flinches, but his hand remains solid over mine. “I believe you threatened my family jewels on the night we met, too.”

  “If we’ve stepped into some kind of a pattern, then it only proves we’re on a path to destruction. Only this time, there’s no heart inside of me for you to break.” I offer my version of a perky smile. “I’m rather proud of that fact in the event you haven’t noticed.”

  His dimples dip in and out, and my stomach bisects with heat at the sight of them.

  No, no, no! Down, girl. This boy is old news. Yesterday’s trash. Moldy oldie leftovers that will not only give you food poisoning, but take you to the grave.

  Emilia pops into my head with that last horrific thought, and I can feel the conversation bubbling up my throat without my permission.

  “What’s going through your mind?” He rubs his thumb along the inside of my wrist, and that sweet spot between my legs jumps and quivers. My God, it’s been so very long since I had any action. If all it takes to bring me to the brink is a little arm rub, then I’m in more trouble than I thought. Maybe I should leave now and Uber my way to a sex shop and scoop up an entire armful of dildos? God knows there’s a fire burning down in that secret part of me that can only be extinguished in one way, and I sure never thought it was associated with my wrist. That’s a testament to Axel’s sexual prowess on some level, but I’ll never give him the satisfaction.

  “Your sexual prowess.” Holy mother! Did those words just burp from my lips? I knock the wrist fondler off my arm and help myself to another glass of wine. It tastes so necessary going down I’m half-convinced I need to ditch the glass and syphon straight from the bottle.

  A dark laugh rumbles from him, and that dress shirt of his creases with the tautness of his chest. “Now that’s something I can work with. Are you judging based on past experiences, or are you looking for updated information?”

  My mouth opens, and this time I’m set on bringing up poor Emilia. Nothing will kill his joyous attitude or that budding boner in his pants than a topic immersed in grief, but each time I try to say something, ask anything about her, I can’t shove the words past that boulder in my throat. I take another sip of my wine and push her to the back of my mind for now.

  “Updated information?” I try to sound coy as if I were flirting. There’s nothing more devastating than to have your hopes lifted just before they’re slashed to the ground with the machete of your ex-girlfriend’s tongue. “You mean you’ve been honing the craft? I hear you’ve amassed quite the harem. Are you partaking in the syphilis trials at the university? Or are you taking on the communicable diseases on your own? You always did have an adventurous spirit. Tell me, does the rash hurt much? Or does the industrial strength ointment the doctor prescribes make it bearable?”

  “You are a riot.” He leans in and takes up my hand once again, this time threading his fingers through mine. “I’m not the man whore you make me out to be. I won’t lie. There have been girls, Lex, but none of them could cure the pain, fill the void you left in your wake. My body, my bed, my heart—they’re still waiting for you to claim them.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t want or need them. Tend to them as you wish.”

  He frowns at the thought, but his thumb rubs a circle over my palm, and that sweet spot between my legs quivers uncontrollably. My God, did I just? Am I?

  I pull my hand back from him as if yanking it from an orgasmic fire.

  Ax folds his hands together over the table as if accepting his fate while relaxing in his seat. “How about you, Lex? You said there was no one else after me. Why not?” he says it stern as if he were suddenly my father, disappointed in my lack of sexual activity. “You’re beautiful, and young, and way too energetic in bed to be alone. What happened?”

  “I happened.” I turn a shoulder up to him just as the waitress brings our dinner.

  “You mind?” Ax nods to his plate, and I shake my head. It was a long-standing ritual of ours that Ax would say grace quickly over our meals. It was something that wildly attracted me to him in the beginning. Any man brave enough to pray over his food in public had to be strong and confident in all areas of his life, and I was right. Axel was a force to be reckoned with. That is, until the day of our own personal reckoning. I shake all thoughts of that terrible time out of my head.

  He says grace, and we get to our meals. Axel carries the conversation, asking about Serena, about Marlin, my psychotic brother who might have played a part in our final demise. Our fragile relationship always felt as if it were on the brink of its demise, but by the time Marlin interfered, we were way past the finish line. My chest aches just thinking about it. I cried for a month straight. Lost ten solid pounds. Hated the sight of food, all because of a stupid boy. This boy—who happened to have morphed into a fine-looking man, and in truth, it scares me. Everything about Axel Collins scares me tonight. Especially how easy it feels to carry on a conversation with him.

  We talk for an hour straight about the Epicurean Elite as he offers up tips to get the website going.

  “That’s some amazing advice. Thank you. I plan on implementing it as soon as I can get the darn thing off the ground. The next step is opening it up to an investor. I’ll need all the capital I can get. No offense to The Pelican, but it will take fifty years to earn half of what I need. And that says a lot about the price tag of my new endeavor, considering the decent tips I make.”

  “I’ll back it.”

  “If you backed it, I’d back out. This is a Collins-free fun zone. And speaking of which”—the waitress hauls away our empty plates, and I’m still warm with the memory of inhaling my favorite meal—“this whole date thing is a one-off.” A stray smile bounces on my lips.

  “If you say so.” Axel glowers at me a moment with those diamond eyes, that stubbled face that I’m half-tempted to slap just so I could feel it. He pours me the last of the wine, and I gladly take the glass to my lips.

  He sheds a smile as I drink as if he has the upper hand, and those cryptic hypersexual words of Raven’s come back to me—if you want to maintain the power position, strike first blood. Land that boy on his back and make him your bitch.

 
“So where to?” He drops a few hundred-dollar bills over the center of the table—so smug, so very overly confident that he’s driving this train.

  “To your place, of course.” His eyes widen with disbelief as I bleed a black smile. I’m about to land Axel Collins on his back and make him my female genital licking dog for the night. “It’s time for dessert.”

  Axel takes up my hand and whisks me to the exit as if swiftly guiding us out of a burning building.

  The Jepson Towers is an alarmingly posh architectural wonder, nothing gaudy, simple marble floors and counters, the elevators sheathed in mirrors, and for the first time I see us there, standing hand in hand, looking every bit like a couple, and there’s a familiarity about it that startles me.

  Axel doesn’t dare say a word. He’s frozen stiff as a statue right up until we board the elevator. It zooms us to the top so fast it’s as if all of his anxiety about me changing my mind had boosted its efforts. We step out into the quiet hush of the carpeted hall. A giant set of ficus plants tower next to a set of heavily carved doors, dark mahogany with a Spanish flare. Axel lets us in and secures the door shut behind us, bolting it twice in hopes to at least slow me down once I decide to hit the exit.

  “It’s stunning,” I say, my breath bated at the sight. Axel’s penthouse is cavernous, dark wood floors, high ceilings, impeccably furnished with a plush gray sectional large enough to easily accommodate fifty people. A large screen television floats against the wall, but my eyes dart to the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan, so the holy trinity—kitchen, dining room, and living room—are all more or less conjoined. I don’t waste a moment before traipsing over and examining the high-end appliances, the impeccable marble countertop that looks new as the day they laid it. That double oven has me drooling, and is that a steamer? It’s safe to say Axel is outgunned in his very own home. From what I remember, his specialty was burning waffles in the toaster oven.