Resisting Love

by Christine Zolendz

  His gaze dropped down to my lips, lingered there for a few moments, and then flashed back up to my eyes. “It’s not just your legs. I wish it were—then it would be so much easier to get you out of my head.”

  I slid my drink back on the bar counter. Behind me the bartender cleared his throat loudly and knocked his knuckles against the glass. “Would you like another?”

  I shifted on my feet, feeling a bit awkward and warm. I wanted to dance with Dean. I didn’t want to stay at the bar drinking and talking. I wanted his arms around me, his hands on me, no serious discussions, just him touching me.

  “Would you like another drink?” Dean asked low. His eyebrows knitted together as he picked up my glass and looked at it. “What were you drinking?”

  Leaning closer to him, I lifted up onto my tippy toes. “A Sloe Comfortable Screw,” I whispered into his ear. The bartender seemed to get the hint to leave us alone and swinging a rag over his shoulder, he backed away without another word.

  For a few breathless moments, Dean’s eyes darted back and forth between mine, but then he dropped his head, his smile fading slightly, “God, Liv.”

  Without thinking, I grabbed onto the cuffs of his sleeves and pulled him toward me. The one strong drink I had suddenly hit me with a strange confidence I’d never felt before. “Dance with me,” I whispered.

  A lifetime of hidden thoughts and looks passed between us, yet neither of us moved. For a second, I feared he would run away, leaving me all alone with this horrible ache swelling in my chest.

  A new song started playing, and Shane Maxton’s raspy voice purred through the crowd. Dean reached out his hand, and the crowd and noise and everything, but him, blurred out around me.

  His fingers threaded slowly through mine. Warmth flooded through my body, and the temperature in the room instantly rose. Dean led me to the dance floor, and a sexy soul-wrenching song fell over us. My face was to his throat. His hands wrapped tightly around my waist as his fingertips pressed hard into my skin. The smell of his cologne gave me an instant high.

  Colorful lights flashed rhythmically over us. The music pumped slow and steady in my veins, but my pulse raced from his touch. I pressed my hands flat against his chest. Beneath his soft cotton shirt, the muscles of his chest tightened, and I groaned low, praying he didn’t hear me.

  I felt him smile against my temple, his mouth opening and exhaling out a heavy warm breath against my skin. His hands tensed and slid low over my hips. They gripped and twisted at the fabric of my shirt. Strong solid arms encased me—the swell of a bicep, the dip of his elbow, the rough pads of his fingertips—all burst with sparks along my skin. Slick sweat glided down his neck as our bodies moved together, sliding over each other in breathless fluid motions.

  One song melted into another and another, our bodies liquefying with the music, and seeping into each other.

  In the hazy silhouettes around us, there was a flash of Brooke’s smiling face, her hands high above her head, a drink clasped in her fingers. Ryan circled her, grinding into her bottom, hands grasping over her shoulders.

  The dark scents of sweat and alcohol mixed and whirled around us.

  Dean pulled me in closer, the long length of his body pressed tightly over mine, his mouth soft against my ear, breathing my name.

  Then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, the music ended, and the room brightened. Dean was a foot away, cool empty air taking the place of his heat. I stared back at him in surprise, wanting desperately to grab on to him and yank him back over me. The absence of him was staggering—as if he were somehow a physical part of me. His eyes searched mine, maybe for some clue, some help as to what just happened between us, or what the next move would be.

  Did he feel it?

  Did he feel this resounding need that I did? This out of control thirst? This hunger for him? Whatever was building between us, between our bodies, he wouldn’t be able to deny it. It was mind-blowing. His hands on me felt like brands. If he walked away from me just then, I’d crumble to dust. I’d cry and beg for him. Didn’t he feel it too? He stared back, breathing hard.

  My knees were rubbery, my body just melted flesh over bendy bones surrounded my wildly drumming heart. “Dean?” I whispered, only to be drowned out by other voices, shouting, calling out his name louder than I did.

  “Fury!” the voices called. “Is that you? Holy shit! It’s Dean!” Howls and hoots rushed around us, maddeningly. Reluctantly, Dean drew his eyes away to see who was calling him.

  A group of people—men in button up shirts, women in bountiful stuffed halter-tops, sweaty and hot—filled in the space between us. They rushed ahead, faces tilted back, full of laughter and smiles.

  Immediately, my gaze dropped down to the floor. A rush of humiliation washed over me. I felt naked, on instant display in the middle of the dance floor, yet not an inch of clothing had ever been removed from my body. Perfect. I had become the most pathetic person ever born.

  The crowd swelled, jostling me, moving me further away.

  Then from behind me, huge tattooed arms grabbed me in a bear hug. “Livie! Are you sober enough for zippers tonight?”

  Brayden’s familiar voice untangled the tense knots in my muscles. I whirled around in his arms and crushed myself against his chest, wanting more than anything in the world to just be held.

  He smelled like sweat.

  “Ew, you stink.” The words blurted thoughtlessly from my lips.

  He held me out at arm’s length and smiled. “Sorry, gorgeous. It was a crazy night.” Next to him, the lead singer of the band leaned into me and kissed the top of my head. “How have you been?”

  I smiled at the both of them, trying desperately not to burst into tears.

  How have I been? Well, let’s see. My mother was an alcoholic. She couldn’t take care of herself. I felt guilty as hell for wanting to leave her here. And the man of my dreams was going from hot as hell to indifference about me so fast I was getting whiplash from all the mixed messages.

  Brooke’s arms were around me next, and she was screeching into Shane’s face asking if he would ever write a song about her. He flirted like mad and asked us if we’d seen some dark haired girl with light gray eyes.

  I shook my head. All I’d seen were a pair of perfect hazel eyes that always seemed to be pulling away from me. Brooke held onto him and spoke against his ear. People laughed, and someone spilled a drink on my shoe.

  Time moved in flashes of color.

  Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. Purple pulsed.

  Somewhere in the crowd I had lost Dean. My stomach felt hollow, and my chest was heavy with longing. Brayden and Brooke spoke in shouts, over the crowd, reminiscing about wild nights and early mornings we had all shared. I remembered most of the stories, but each one was always tainted with my feelings of unrequited attention from someone—someone I could hardly breathe around—someone I never stopped wanting.

  A DJ took to the stage in a small booth and introduced himself. I could barely decipher the words he was screaming into the microphone. My eyes searched through the sweaty bodies for Dean, but he was gone. More music filtered out over us, and Brooke and I danced in the middle of room. Brayden’s arms flailed out in crazy circular patterns—the guy never had rhythm—it surprised the hell out of me when I found out how good he was playing the bass guitar though.

  We eventually danced back to the bar, sweat glistening on our skin. I kept wondering where Dean was, and who those girls were that had said hello to him. I didn’t care too much about the men. I found myself straining my neck and standing on my tippy toes, desperately watching the dance floor for any sign of him. I was pathetic.

  Had he slept with any of those women?

  Would he take one of them home? Would I hear her moaning through the thin walls of the house later that night? A sharp slice of jealously scraped at my insides, but I pushed it away and cleared silly thoughts from my head. I laughed at something Brayden said next to me, in attempt to pull myself back into the shitty re
ality around me. Dean and I weren’t together, and we wouldn’t ever be. My home was hundreds of miles away from him. And I should be in that home, hundreds of miles away—grading papers and watching television in a pair of old sweats.

  A loud squeal erupted down at the end of the bar, making me jerk my head around. My heart dropped into my stomach.

  Dean stood stoic, the group of girls next to him, laughing and giggling. Along the bar, countertop shot glasses were lined up, a heavy amber liquid filled them all. Dean’s eyes looked hazy. I wondered how much he had drunk. How long had I been talking and dancing with Brayden and Shane? It couldn’t have been more than three songs.

  “Let’s do a shot for Thomas,” one of the girls slurred, holding a shot glass straight above her head. “Whatever trouble he got himself in, may he find fucking peace.” Her voice traveled out across the bar. People turned to look back at her. I wondered if this was a place Thomas went to a lot.

  Dean’s shoulders tightened.

  I didn’t think anyone else noticed. They all held up their glasses, called out his name, and slammed back their drinks—all but Dean who towered over all of them, watching them through horror-filled eyes.

  I instantly pushed past Brayden and Brooke, ignoring them calling my name. I wedged myself between Dean and a tall blonde girl. She was so drunk that she didn’t even notice. “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking right now just stop.” I cupped my hand around his cheeks, focusing his eyes on mine. “You’re punishing yourself for something that someone else chose to do. You can’t change what happened, the only thing you can do is find out why. Help other people in his situation.”

  “You’re right,” he leaned down and murmured into my hair. His hands tangled through the strands.

  “Hey, Livie,” I heard someone call from behind me. My bottom got wacked with a loud slap. I whirled around to Brayden and Alex, the drummer, standing side-by-side, smiling down at me. “There’s going to be a little party over at our place. You want to hang?” Brayden looked up and smiled at Dean. “All your friends are invited too.”

  Before I could tell him no, because that’s honestly what my answer would have been, Dean’s arm was around my shoulders, pulling me into his extremely hot, hard chest. “Hey bro, thanks for asking, but I think we’re just going home…to bed.”

  Um…What now?

  Chapter 11

  Dean

  “Well now, you’re just cock blocking me!” she laughed, pushing me into the back hallway.

  Why did that bother me?

  Why did her saying that bother me so damn much?

  Would she have gone to the party with them? She seemed to know them all. I’m a grown man—trying not to let it bother me, but the thought of her and that pretty boy lead singer was putting images in my head that I didn’t want there at all.

  “You want to go with them?” I asked her, rubbing the ache in my chest away.

  Her hand reached out and softly tugged on the hem of my shirt. She didn’t answer me, but her smile slid from her face.

  My gaze dropped to her fingers. They twisted into a small fist, pulling my shirt closer to her, pulling me closer to her. Liv stepped back until she was flat against the wall, and I was hovering over her, our faces close together, our lips just inches apart.

  Her breath hitched. I heard it in the muted hallway, watched it, with the quick rise and fall of her chest. God, I could fall right into her and never be able to get back up again.

  “Do you want to leave with them?” I asked again, voice hard and tight.

  Her face arched up to mine, her breath on my skin, the sweet scent of oranges and vodka.

  “No.” Her voice was soft, lucid, her cheeks flushed to a deep red. “The only person I want to leave with is you.” The lack of light in the hallway meant so little to me this close to her. I could feel every inch of her warm skin. I could feel in the air that thickened around us how much she wanted me. Did she have any clue my desire for her was so much more?

  We were alone, just the two of us, hidden in the shadows of the flashing lights from the dance floor. All I needed to do was shift no more than an inch closer, and my lips would be on hers, her skin hot against mine, hike up that skirt and take her up against the wall.

  My hands moved down toward hers, but I hesitated when I heard her sigh my name. I wanted to hear that again, and again. I wanted an entire night of her sighing my name, screaming my name. Not a few seconds inside her, up along a dirty bar wall.

  I unraveled my shirt from her grasp, entwined her fingers in mine, “Come on,” I said, clearing the thick knot in my throat. “Let’s get out of here before we get hauled off for public indecency.”

  She let out a breathy gasp as I pulled her away.

  We quickly walked out of the dark hallway, stumbling together into Ryan. He held our coats in his hand with a sour look across his face. “Your sister is already outside, waiting by an Uber.”

  “What? Why?” Liv asked, dropping my hand to slip her arms through her coat.

  Ryan took a long exaggerated breath and whined, “Apparently, there’s an ex-douchebag here, and she refuses to be in the same vicinity as him, even if I promised to shove my fist into his dick hole.” He looked at me and shrugged.

  Everything he said was always awkwardly graphic. How did he ever get laid?

  Liv rushed outside, and Brooke hurried us into the car with quick hard shoves. Before we were in all the way, she slammed the door on Ryan’s leg sending him into a fit of grunts and mumbled expletives. Without an apology, she rolled her eyes and hunkered down in the front seat. Her ass slid low in the seat like she was trying to hide from something. It made no sense.

  It also didn’t make sense why I was sitting in the middle of the back seat with Ryan on one side of me and Liv on the other. I was the biggest one there, why the hell was I stuck in the middle?

  On my right side Ryan elbowed me low in the gut, almost getting my dick. My poor dick was still rock hard from listening to Liv breathing heavy in the hallway. I cocked my head to the side to see what the hell Ryan was hitting me for.

  He looked confused. “Bro, is it me? Am I too much for her?” he mouthed out and pointed to Brooke in the front seat. “Why does she hate me?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “How the fuck should I know?”

  He folded his arms angrily and mumbled crap about crazy women as he looked out the passenger side window.

  Next to me on my other side, Liv squirmed in her seat. Her skirt edged up high on her thigh, and her bare skin pressed against the leg of my pants. All I could do was stare at the smooth expanse of her skin. It was only thirteen miles from Manhattan to our house in Queens with lit up concrete mountains that stretched to the sky closing us in. As we drove through the city, the streetlights flickered above us, and in the tiny flashes of light, I watched her long legs pucker with goose bumps. I wanted to take off all her clothes and wrap myself around her, just to warm her up again.

  Again, I pictured those legs wrapped around me as I pushed into her achingly slow.

  My hand shifted between us, my fingertips slipping across her skin. She was smoother than silk.

  Ryan elbowed me again.

  This time, he got the head of my dick, and I had to hold back a groan. I whirled around in the seat, clenching my jaw. “What?” I mouthed to him.

  “You like her,” he mouthed back to me, pointing his stupid asshole index finger behind me and wagging his eyebrows.

  “You’re like twelve,” I grunted, elbowing him back. “Leave me alone.”

  He blew kisses at me into the air.

  “She’s only here for a couple of more days,” I mouthed.

  He mock-humped the seat. “That’s perfect,” he whispered, giving me the thumbs up.

  Before I could punch him in the face, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

  “Oh snap, you keep a vibrator in your pocket?” Ryan joked, loudly.

  “Suck a dick, Cage,” I snapped, twisting my body to shove my hand in
my pocket to grab my phone. I pulled it out, quickly, elbowing him in the gut. “Oh sorry, bro,” I laughed as he bent forward and groaned.

  Sergeant Kannon’s picture flashed across my screen. “Fury,” I said, opening the call.

  “I need you in. Now,” Kannon’s voice responded.

  “Why? What’s up?” I asked, dryly. There was no damn way I was going back into work. Not with Liv sitting beside me, and knowing the night I had laid out in front of me with her.

  “Fury…” Kannon’s voice growled.

  “Boss, I’ve been drinking,” I said, low.

  “How many?” he asked, gravely.

  “Four beers,” I answered, honestly. I wanted to lie and say more, but what was the use? He’d hold me down in a cold shower himself and hit me with an IV of caffeine just to make me think straight.

  “You’re fine, Fury. Come in.” His tone was serious.

  “Yeah, sure. I will. But what’s up?” I said, defeated.

  “They found the cadets. The case is now a homicide.”

  The call ended. I sat frozen in the car blinking down at the screen. They found the cadets. Plural. And it’s no longer a missing persons case. It’s a murder investigation.

  I glanced into the front seat. The side of Brooke’s head was pressed against the window. I couldn’t see her face, but she was obviously upset about something. Ryan said something about an ex boyfriend—even Liv asked her about it the other night. I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone. My sister didn’t need anymore shit in her life. I’d let her get some sleep tonight; she’ll have tomorrow to grieve for whatever I find out about the cadets.

  Dead cadets.

  Just fucking kids.

  Kids who wanted to be cops.

  The department doesn’t need another dead body right now. Not one in a uniform. Especially not a kid in uniform.

  The feeling of Liv’s leg next to mine disappeared, and a cold breeze swept through the car. My phone was still clutched in my hand when I realized the car had stopped, and we were parked in front of my house.