Davis

by INGRID HARRISON

  An hour later, I finished getting ready, and went looking for food in Steph’s small kitchen. I found bread and some lunch meat, and made myself a sandwich, munching on it happily while I walked around her living room.

  Her desk was really a table, and she had a small laptop set up there, with print outs of some sort of schedule. Looking at it closer, I realized it was for her writing job. She had neatly written that her projects for the next week were completed. According to her schedule, she had nothing due until the following month. I remember her mentioning she had some articles to write before she could leave tomorrow.

  On the wall behind her desk, she had hung a large wooden shelf that had about nine compartments with different figurines and photos of her mom and my dad, and other miscellaneous items. I was surprised to see she had a picture of me, framed in a small metal frame. It looked like one I remembered from years ago. I had been laughing at something, and someone had taken my photo. I was surprised she didn’t have one of the hundreds distributed by my record label.

  As I looked in the next shelf over, I leaned in. She had a gold box and inside was tickets of some sort. Pulling the box down, I looked closer, and they were tickets to my concert. I looked through them all, and it looked like every concert of mine she had gone to, she had kept the ticket.

  I was surprised she kept them. When I noticed writing on the back, I turned it over, and my stomach clenched.

  She had written a recap of sorts on the back. The one I was holding read:

  Davis was electric tonight, and everyone was feeling it in the air. Best show ever!

  I looked at the back of another ticket, and she had written: Davis performed flawlessly. I have never seen him look as happy as he did that night. Wish I could have gone to the after party.

  Something about her taking the time to keep the tickets, and writing reminders of that night left me with a feeling of awe. It was a little thing, but it resonated within me for some reason.

  I looked at each ticket, and caught my breath on the concert she went to last, slowly turning the ticket over. This was the one where I had kissed her. She had never gone to another show after that, I thought with sadness.

  Reading the words, I held my breath:

  Best concert ever! Wish I could have had more time with him, just the two of us

  I sighed, sadness overcoming me. I ached for what could have been. I had handled that night all wrong. I was still regretting what I should have done that night.

  I needed to prove to her that I was different now. I had changed; no longer the same man I was that night long ago. That Davis had been thoughtless and oblivious to Steph. No longer would I forget how special Steph was, I reminded myself with a pang. Would she give me the opportunity to show her?

  Desperately needing to see her, I pocketed the keys to her apartment, and made sure I had my wallet and phone and dug out a baseball cap from my duffel bag, putting it on.

  I didn’t usually get recognized, but lately, it had been happening more and more, so it was always best to have something to diffuse my looks, and baseball caps usually did a pretty good job.

  I found the tavern easily enough, and when I pushed open the door, it was already getting close to 9:00pm. The bar wasn’t packed, but there were quite a few people here, with over half of the tables full. My eyes avidly searched the room for Steph, not seeing her at first.

  Then I realized why. She was bent at the knees, low to the ground mopping up a spill on the ground. Her head was bent so I couldn’t see her face, but I recognized her hair, so unique and sexy, long and glossy.

  Pulling my gaze from her, I went to the bar and found an empty chair in the center of the bar. I eased down, hearing the juke box playing a top ten song I recognized. I hated that my back was to Steph, as I just wanted to see her and look at her. I needed a drink, suddenly feeling nervous. Why was that?

  There were a couple of bartenders, one older and the other much younger. I immediately didn’t like the younger bartender. He was too good looking and it was clear he knew women liked him. I could hear him teasing a couple of younger women, both dressed to kill; they only had eyes for him. He had a confident, cocky attitude that I recognized all too much, I thought with a grimace.

  I already had him pegged. He probably nailed half the customers here; making them come back for more. Oh yeah, I knew the sort, I thought with a snort. Hadn’t I been the exact same way?

  I was certain he would have made a move on Steph. It turned my stomach, just thinking about Steph sleeping with this loser.

  “Can I help you?” the older bartender asked politely, setting a square napkin in front of me.

  “Yeah,” I said with a grimace, “Can I get the darkest beer you have on draft and a shot of tequila?”

  The bartender nodded, and I turned around in my bar stool, searching out Steph again. My breath caught when I found her. Christ, she looked hot, I thought, my mouth watering.

  She had on this tight black shirt that defined the shape of her breasts. When she turned suddenly to a customer request, I watched her breasts jiggle, and my cock wouldn’t stay down. Her ass looked good in her skirt, round and heart shaped. God, I thought, she looked good.

  “Here you go,” the bartender said loudly behind me, and I turned around.

  “Would you like to start a tab?” the bartender asked and I nodded.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said smiling at him. Since he didn’t turn away, I asked, “So does it get busier in here the later it gets?”

  He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might have recognized me, but then he smiled, “Oh yeah, it’s crazy in here. Regular meat market, if you’re into that.”

  I smiled, feeling uncomfortable suddenly by his stare, but I wasn’t able to respond, because as I took the shot of tequila, tilting my head back, I looked forward, and there was Steph, standing in front of me, emptying a tray of dirty glasses.

  I lowered the brim of my hat, shielding my face from her, should she look up. From my bar stool, I felt like I was a little higher up than her and when she bent forward, I swear I could see right down her top.

  God damn it, was she trying to flaunt her body for everyone to see! I gritted my teeth, grabbing my beer. I glanced around, and sure enough, I was positive the guy a couple of seats down from me was checking her out too.

  I took a large drink of my beer. I was starting to get pissed. I am sure half the men in this place was looking at her, how could they help themselves? Had she dated any of these guys? Slept with them?

  The sandwich I ate before I came roiled in my stomach, and I swallowed hard. I began eyeing anyone she was extra friendly with as I watched her make her rounds, stopping at table after table.

  Sure enough, there was a guy right there saying something to her that had her smiling that beguiling smile of hers. Fuck!

  I turned around, trying to get my breathing under control. She said she had worked here almost three months. There was no way that one of these guys hadn’t gotten in her pants, I thought in frustration.

  While I was dragging my feet, unsure if I should call her or not, she was getting multiple offers from any number of guys every time she came to work. It made me feel sick.

  She was mine. Mine! She may not realize it yet, but she soon would, I vowed.

  CHAPTER 7-STEPH

  It was almost ten, and I still hadn’t seen him. I was starting to get worried. He should have woken up by now, shouldn’t he? Maybe I should go to my locker and look at my phone in case he got lost and had tried to call me? Or maybe he didn’t want to come to the bar; didn’t want to see me?

  I had been surprised when he showed up at my apartment, and was even more confused that he hadn’t wanted to talk about us. He didn’t even try to kiss me or touch me, which was concerning. Did he realize when he saw me that he wasn’t interested in me sexually? He had been drinking that night, months ago. Maybe his reaction was because of the amount he had drunk?

  Honestly, when he and I lay o
n my bed, I couldn’t contain my awareness of him. I had wanted to touch and stroke him, I remembered. But he had no problem falling asleep, barely touching me.

  I needed to prepare myself for the likelihood that his feelings for me were the same as they had always been; platonic. I couldn’t expect him to feel the same as I did.

  I set my tray at the end of the bar and went in the back, opening my locker. The blank screen of my phone stared back at me. Should I call him? Maybe I should just walk home? I would be there in 5 minutes, and it was my lunch break.

  Decision made, I went behind the bar and said to Steve, “I am going to take my lunch. I will be right back.”

  At his nod, I turned and was about to walk out from behind the bar, when I heard, “Steph.” The voice was husky with a rasp to his voice, and I turned back around, searching the faces at the bar, seeking out Davis.

  He had a baseball cap on, pulled low, and he was just finishing a beer. His expression seemed closed, his lips in a grim line.

  I brightened when I saw him, stepping in front of him, the bar separating us.

  “You came,” I said with a grin. “I was worried you might have gotten lost, or had decided not to come out.”

  “No, I got here about an hour ago,” he said quietly so that I had to lean forward to hear him over the noise of the crowd.

  He seemed unhappy, and I felt unsure suddenly. I reached out a hand, touching the top of his hand. “Is everything OK?” I asked tentatively.

  He turned his hand, now holding my hand, gazing at me intently. “Yeah.”

  Was it my imagination or had he hesitated too long before answering. I felt myself stiffen.

  “Do you get to leave for your lunch?” he asked me.

  “I can. Are you hungry? Do you want to go grab a bite to eat?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous

  I grimaced saying, “I only have a half an hour though so it will have to be somewhere close. I usually walk home if I am hungry, as there isn’t a lot open this late. Or sometimes I will pack a lunch, but I forgot to do that today.”

  I stopped suddenly. I was rambling, I knew. His expression, closed as it was, coupled with what happened earlier, I was at a loss how to handle this Davis.

  “Say something,” I urged, when he just stared at me, causing me to sink my upper teeth into my bottom lip.

  But he just stared at me, so I asked in a whisper, “Did I do something wrong?”

  He tugged my hand closer to him. “No, why would you think that?”

  “You look....unhappy,” I finally got out, concern on my face.

  He finally broke my gaze and looked around the bar. Turning back to me, he asked, “Do you need to eat?”

  I felt my stomach plummet. He didn’t deny he was unhappy, I thought dejectedly. He wasn’t even going to answer me.

  “No, I’m not hungry,” I said trying to make my voice sound normal, when inside I was sick. He had been here a short time, and he looked miserable.

  I couldn’t let him stay here with me, if it was making him unhappy.

  “Come over here,” I said, forcing my hand from his, and pointing to the end of the bar.

  He nodded, and then got Steve’s attention. “I will be right back.” Standing, he met me at the end of the bar. I motioned for him to follow me, and I took him in the back, behind the storage shelves to a small table that was set up there with a bench seat.

  The music and the noise of the bar was muffled back here, the lighting muted.

  “It’s quieter back here,” I said unnecessarily and I sat on the seat, scooting over so there was room for him.

  When he sat down next to me, I turned toward him, taking a deep breath.

  “You don’t have to stay. I would understand if you want to leave,” I said, my hands in my lap, tightly clasped.

  He looked surprised. “Don’t you want me here?”

  I took a moment to answer him, trying to choose my words with care. “I can see you’re not happy, and I get it.” I stopped and looked down, forcing myself to not allow my voice to break. “I know you are having doubts about coming to Savannah, and you don’t have to stay. I…Well, we tried, you know, but you can’t force it,” I finished biting my lip.

  I looked up when he didn’t respond, and the look on his face made me press my hands to my stomach.

  “What are you saying Steph?” he asked in disbelief. “Are you having doubts? Because I have no doubt that coming here was something I should have done a long time ago.”

  My eyes opened wider, my mouth falling open. I couldn’t keep my voice steady as I said, “I thought you weren’t feeling it. W-With me,” I stuttered.

  His hand reached out, lightly stroking his hand down my arm. “God Steph, you don’t need to doubt my feelings. Not about you. I feel it stronger than ever,” he said huskily.

  “But you haven’t….We haven’t…” I stopped in frustration. “You looked so unhappy with me,” I finished lamely.

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Any unhappiness I feel is not directed at you, it’s with myself.”

  When I just looked at him in confusion, he continued. “I watched you tonight. God Steph,“ he groaned. “I wasn’t the only man that couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”

  He moved in closer, his hand touching the ends of my hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers.

  He was so close, I could smell the soap on his skin and my heart sped up. I ached for his touch, the ache feeling like a physical pain in my chest. I swayed, leaning in closer, so drawn to him.

  His face, so close to mine now, his warm breath tickling my face when he whispered, “I don’t want to blow this opportunity with you.”’

  His hand reached up, softly stroking along my jaw, and the feeling of his stroking fingers causing tremors to begin. “I..I don’t either,” I managed to get past my lips in a murmur, my eyes locked on his.

  “Don’t look at me like that?” he groaned, pulling me to him and pressing his face into the side of my face. I thought I felt his lips briefly brush against my cheek, but then he turned his head, resting his cheek against mine.

  I could feel his hand in my hair now, felt the deep breaths he was taking and I couldn’t resist. I had to touch him, raising my hands until they rested against his neck. The thick corded muscles there tensed under my fingers, but I couldn’t stop.

  The feel of him beneath my hands felt so good, I couldn’t resist going higher, spearing my fingers through his hair. The onrush of excitement at being able to touch him caused my breath to hitch, and unable to resist, I turned my face so my lips were against the skin of his cheek.

  It was when I opened my mouth against his cheek, my tongue lightly touching his skin, tasting him, that I felt a rumble in his chest. I was too far gone, the taste of him going to my head. I couldn’t stop, his taste making me heady with excitement. I allowed my lips to trail up his jawline stopping below his ear.

  I allowed my mouth to open wide, gentle pressing my teeth into his skin, my tongue darting out to taste him again.

  His groan reverberated through me, the sound of his pleasure causing a pulse to begin fluttering between my legs.

  His arms had completely surrounded me, and his hoarsely muttered, “God, baby, don’t,” didn’t register at first. I was lost, my lips touching the lower portion of his ear, my mouth opening. When my lips closed over the lobe of his ear, I sucked on it before tugging it gently with my teeth.

  He pulled away from me, his breathing was harsh and the eyes he turned towards me shimmered with an internal fire that made me gasp.

  . He closed his eyes for a moment, and seemed to hold his breath, his face contorted. When his eyes opened again, he looked like he was in pain. He looked around the storage room and grimaced.

  “I…Not here,” he bit out harshly. His hands had grabbed the upper portion of my arms, holding me away from him.

  He was right, I knew that, but my need to touch him, to taste him had overruled any rational thoughts I might have had. He went to my he
ad. But I already knew that, I remembered. Gasoline poured onto a fire wouldn’t ignite faster than he and I did.

  Just as I had imagined, keeping away from him wasn’t going to happen. In his arms, nothing else mattered but him. I was too eager, I knew; too eager to discover him; his body, his taste, his smell and his essence.

  I sat up straighter, swallowing hard. I wouldn’t be embarrassed. I knew I had exposed myself by my eagerness to touch him, but I didn’t care. It was imperative that I reach out and take what I needed from him. My body wouldn’t allow me to think, it just wanted to feel.

  It was as if I had abstained for too long, and I had to reach out and take what I needed from him. Keeping quiet about my feelings, and hiding it from everyone, including him, had left me unhappy and dissatisfied.

  He was here, and we both had agreed to see where this thing between us led. I had to find out. My body was clamoring to discover him, and all the pleasure I experienced when I touched him.

  Sitting up, I held my head up. “OK, I will wait until tonight then.”

  Even I was surprised at my bold statement, and when I saw his face mimic that same desire, I had to squeeze my legs to try and dull the ache that pulsed there.

  CHAPTER 7-DAVIS

  The rest of the night was agony for me. Since our time in the back storage room, I sensed a change in Steph. Or maybe it was because she knew I was here now whereas before she hadn’t seen me Regardless, the looks she kept giving me, the sensual movement of her body and the way she would brush her body against mine, she was sending messages; messages that she desired me and those messages were going straight to my cock.

  Even now, I was hard, hiding the proof underneath the bar, trying to talk myself down out this sensual fog that was swirling around my head.

  My constant state of arousal made my senses heightened, so any brush of her hand on my arm and every smile she gave me only made me that much more impatient to be alone with her.

  But that was a problem. Before coming here, I had told myself to stay away from her; namely no sex. I wanted her, there was definitely no doubt about that, but I wanted more than just sex.