by J. A. Owenby
“There are eighteen total. President Theodore Roosevelt shoveled some of the dirt during the groundbreaking, too,” he said.
“Oh my God, Hendrix, don’t let me trip and bust my butt while we’re here. This place way outclasses me and showing my ass would be mortifying.”
Hendrix coughed. “Depends on which side you’re on,” he mumbled under his breath.
My cheeks flamed as I realized he’d literally pictured me on the floor with my ass in the air.
“I’m going to ignore you even said that,” I said, punching his arm playfully while we walked through the hallway and into the ballroom. I automatically stepped back and fumbled with my fake pearl necklace. Panic coursed through me as I realized there were easily three hundred plus people in the room. Hendrix grabbed my hand and pulled me to the side of the door, leaning me up against the wall.
“You say the word, and we’re out of here,” he whispered in my ear. “Look at me, Gem.”
My legs shook as I focused on him. “Take a breath. I’m right here.” His hand caressed my cheek before tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “You have pepper spray on you, and we are going to walk straight over to my dad. We’re going to let you hold onto my arm the entire night, okay?”
I swallowed my fear and grabbed his hand. “I didn’t know,” I stuttered. “I had no idea there would be so many people.”
“It’s no different than campus really. You did fine at the concert with Mac, right?”
“Yeah, until Brandon.” Emotion hitched in my throat with the sound of his name.
“Brandon won’t be here tonight or anywhere around. Promise. It’s you and me, babe.”
My legs steadied, and he kissed my palm, my body shivering from his touch instead of fear.
“I can do this.”
He nodded. “Yes you can. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. This is a cakewalk compared to what you’ve already conquered.”
I frowned, staring at his bowtie, and back up to him. “You’re right. Even compared to yesterday.”
“That’s right.” He leaned in for a quick kiss. “You ready? We can stand here until you are. We have all night. There’s no rush.”
“I’m okay, thank you.”
Hendrix turned and extended his arm. I looped mine through his, and he placed a strong, warm hand over mine. Classical music played in the background while waiters offered champagne and hors d'oeuvres. He guided me through the crowd, and we approached the back of a middle-aged gentleman.
Hendrix patted him on the back, and an older spitting image of him turned around, beaming at his son. This would be Hendrix in thirty years. I released his arm as he hugged his dad. An awkwardness settled over me while Hendrix took my hand and pulled me next to him.
“Dad, this is Gemma. Gemma, this is Franklin Harrington, my father.”
“Sir,” I said, extending my hand and smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
He took my hand in both of his, then tilted it up, and kissed the back of it.
“A true southern belle,” he said, flashing the same smile as Hendrix. My heart leaped out of my chest.
“I see where Hendrix gets his good looks from,” I said politely. Oh my God. What the hell was I saying? Maybe my brain simply couldn’t handle two gorgeous men this close to me. I felt like a hormonal teenager.
Franklin grinned, and we engaged in small talk about Louisiana, music, and how I met his son. The tension eased from my shoulders as Hendrix slipped his arm around my waist. His presence steadied me no matter where we were.
Before I knew it, a few hours had passed quite pleasantly. So far, the only thing I regretted was wearing these damned shoes. I silently swore at Mac while I tried to wriggle feeling back into my toes. Franklin and Hendrix introduced me to several people, including the mayor and multiple attorneys. From the looks of it, everyone was rolling in money. Even though my dress was expensive in my opinion, I was glad I spent the money.
The event also gave me some insight into another piece of who Hendrix was. He effortlessly mingled and talked with everyone. The money never seemed to matter, and he was as comfortable with influential men wearing Rolex watches, their wives dripping in diamonds, as he was with people his own age. Franklin was rubbing elbows with the city officials and some of the top attorneys in the country according to Hendrix. Suddenly it dawned on me. Hendrix came from money. Yet he’d never said a word. He never treated me less than him even when I wore oversized clothes and threadbare tennis shoes. Not once did he ever look down his nose at me. In fact, it was the opposite.
Seconds later, my earlier realization and the fear that accompanied it reappeared.
Chapter 20
"I need to speak to you, Hendrix. Right now." Hendrix stopped mid-conversation with Mrs. Beasley, his hand immediately moving to support my back.
“Excuse us, please,” he said to her, then quickly navigated us through the crowd and out the front door. The chill of the night air slapped me in the face as we stepped outside.
I pushed his arm off me and hurried away from him as fast as I could in my heels, gasping and tears blurring my vision.
“Gemma! Wait!” I heard his dress shoes smacking the pavement while he jogged after me. I rounded the corner just in time to fall apart. His hand braced my elbow as the tears came down my cheeks.
“Gem, what happened? Talk to me,” he coaxed gently.
“I can’t believe this. How in the hell have I been so stupid?” I glared at him. “What other secrets are you keeping from me, Hendrix?” His face fell with the realization of why I was upset. “How am I supposed to trust you if you’re lying to me?” I asked, hiccupping through my tears.
“It’s not like that. Please,” he said, his shoulders sagging. “Let me explain.”
“No more lies,” I spat. “Goddammit, quit jerking me around and tell me the fucking truth for a change. I mean, first, it was ‘I don’t sing,’ then you didn’t tell me Mac was your step-sister, and now this?” My voice climbed in pitch, and I wiped the tears away, no longer caring about my makeup.
“No, it’s not like that. Please, listen to me.”
I hesitated. Would he lie to me again?
I shook my head. “Talk fast,” I snapped and bit my lip.
“First, I never admit to anyone I can sing. I got teased about it for years. I was one of the few guys in choir and competitions. Other kids picked on me, which is why I got into boxing. So it’s a habit, and I’d sound like a total dick if I walked around and said, ‘Hell yeah, I can sing.’ I’m sorry it came off like I was hiding it from you. It was never my intention. And Mac? I had no idea you two were even roommates until the night of the concert when I helped bail you out of trouble. Up until that time, she’d never mentioned you. Mac and I talk plenty, but lately it’s been mostly about Asher. When Brandon popped up again, I talked to her about staying safe. So that night, walking you two back to the dorm? It’s when I realized you were her roommate. Tonight? Sure, be mad at me if you need to be, but let me explain. Yeah, I come from money. A lot of fucking money, actually. None of it matters, though. The girls who know throw themselves at me, and I’m never sure if it’s because I sing, I’m rich, or if it’s because they actually like me as a human being.” He paused, running both of his hands through his hair, glancing upward at the starlit sky and back at me. “I don’t care about your clothes or any of that shit. I wasn’t joking. All I care about is your heart and how you treat other people. You’re my sister’s best friend, and now she never shuts the hell up about you. You can do no wrong in her opinion and honestly? Not in mine either,” he said, his voice trailing off, his gaze locking with mine.
His expression, the pain, the fear—it wrecked me. I placed my hand against the wall of the building, steadying myself. His words, the raw emotion behind them, left me weak.
“Goddammit, Gemma, don’t you get it?’ he asked, breathlessly. “I love you.”
I drew in a sharp breath of cold air at his words. Suddenl
y, all the events from the last two days hit me, overpowered me, and threatened to bring me to my knees. In one step, Hendrix caught me before I hit the ground.
“Shit,” he said. “You’re shaking. Let’s take you to the car where you can get warm.” I leaned against the wall as he removed his tux jacket and wrapped it around me. In a daze, I let him lead me to the car and put me in. He ran to the side and started the engine. My teeth chattered while the air blew cold.
“I’m sorry. I’m such a dick,” he said, pulling his jacket tighter around me. The hot air began to blow from the vents, but I continued to shiver.
He pulled out of the parking space and headed toward campus. My mind struggled to work through everything he’d said. In my heart, I knew he was telling me the truth. I’d just gotten angry, thinking he’d lied to me. And then absolutely terrified when he told me he loved me.
I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy as I turned toward him.
“Take me to your place,” I whispered.
Chapter 21
Hendrix suddenly swerved the car over to the shoulder of the road and shifted into park.
“What?” he asked, confusion dancing across his features.
“Take me to your place, Hendrix.”
He shook his head. “No. Not tonight. You’ve been through too much. And if I take you there, I’m going to want to wrap you in my arms and make love to you all night long.”
Cars passed us and honked. I ignored them as I stared at him and absorbed every beautiful thing about him.
“Did you mean it? You love me?”
He turned in his seat, facing me. “Yes. I love you. I love you so fucking much it’s tearing me in two. More than anything in this world, even more than music, I love you. I want you by my side. I want to kiss you, and laugh with you, and show you how beautiful life can really be.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I love you, too, Hendrix.”
His eyes widened. “You do?”
“I realized it tonight, and it terrified me way more than you having money. I’m not mad about you not providing full disclosure about your finances. I understand why you didn’t. I was angry with myself for being so scared of what I’m feeling.”
He stared at me, and I reached for his hand. “So please, take me to your place tonight. I’ll text Mac.”
He searched my face for a long moment, nodded, shifted the car into drive, and pulled back onto the street.
I opened the glove compartment and pulled out my phone. In a few taps on my screen, I texted Mac I was staying with Hendrix.
My screen filled with love emojis seconds later. I pushed the fear aside when I realized I was on my way to his place. He squeezed my hand.
“It’s on the Spokane River, the view is amazing,” he said.
“I bet it’s great for writing music, huh?”
“Nothing like it.”
“Why in the hell were you always sitting in the college library then?”
“You. I’d never set foot in there until the day you had your panic attack. I was actually sitting outside working on a chorus when you showed up.”
“You’re telling me the only reason you even walked in there was for me?” I asked, surprised and still confused about what he saw in me.
“Yeah,” he said, signaling a right turn on North Upriver Road.
We pulled into a curvy driveway and meandered up a hill to his house.
“Shit, you don’t even live in an apartment?” I asked, peering through the darkness at the two-story home. Large picture windows spanned the front and were partially hidden behind tall pine trees.
“No, I own it, Gem.”
“What? You’re a junior in college and own a house? On the river? I might be from Louisiana, but I know water property is seriously expensive.”
“It’s Dad’s way of trying to make up for being a drunk, shitty father.”
“So it’s free and clear?”
“Yeah.”
I stared at him, the fact slowly sinking in that he had more money than I’d ever imagined.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The outdoor lights automatically turned on as we approached. He punched in a code and opened the door, allowing me in first. The lights automatically turned on when I stepped inside, my heels clicking against the white marble entryway.
“Take a look around, and I’ll show you every door and every window, for you to take off running if you feel the need too.”
I laughed, but he knew me well enough to know what would ease my mind and make me feel safe. My eyes scanned the living room with the massive stone fireplace and the black leather couch that looked like you could sink into it and never get out. A 65-inch TV hung on another wall.
“Let me show you the kitchen,” he said, taking my hand and leading the way. The moment his foot reached the kitchen floor, the room lit up.
“This has to be custom, right?” I asked, scanning the marble countertops and cherry cabinets in awe. I’d never seen a kitchen so beautiful.
“Yeah. It was fun designing it. Are you doing okay?” he asked, rubbing my back.
I nodded, scanning every inch of his space.
“Come on. This is why I bought this place.”
I followed him out of the kitchen and to the back sliding glass door. The patio lit up as we stepped outside.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. Although I couldn't see the river in the darkness, I could hear the rushing water, the scent of it tickling my nose. I inhaled deeply and soaked in the quiet beauty around me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
My pulse skipped a beat, and I took a step closer to him, slipping off my heels.
His fingers traced down my neck, and I leaned into his touch.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I love you so much,” he said before his lips gently brushed against mine.
“I love you, too.”
Heat traveled through my body as he kissed me softly, each touch of his hand sending shivers down my spine.
“Let’s take you inside,” he said, opening the slider before leading me up the stairs.
My eyes widened when we entered his bedroom. A modern, dark brown, four-poster California king bed sat in the middle of the room with a plush navy-blue comforter and matching pillows. A cozy sitting-area was tucked into a spacious corner. The floor-to-ceiling windows no doubt displayed a beautiful view in the daylight. A full-sized matching dresser was against the opposite wall.
I stood speechless while he undid his bow tie and removed his tuxedo jacket from around my shoulders.
“Man, that feels so much better,” he said, cracking his neck. “The only time you’ll catch me in a tux is for an event like tonight.”
I smiled shyly, my legs quivering as my focus rested on his bed. Was I really ready to do this?
Chapter 22
My body shuddered with fear and excitement, my stare glued on him.
“The moment you’re not okay, tell me. Promise?”
“Yeah,” I said, and then his mouth was on mine. I locked my fingers around his neck, and we simultaneously took several steps toward his bed.
“Can I unzip your dress?” he whispered.
I nodded, unable to say anything, fear and need intertwining themselves inside me. He turned me gently, my back to him. The rasp of the zipper broke the silence. I kept my elbows pinned to my sides, preventing my dress from dropping to the floor. Goosebumps dotted my skin as his fingertips trailed down my bare arms.
“I think you should look at me, and let’s keep the lamp on. I want you to know you’re safe in here with me every second,” he said.
“Thank you.” In one quick motion, I lifted my elbows, brushed the fabric from my shoulders, and allowed my dress to drop to the floor. My nipples hardened against the cool air, and I trembled, exposed in front of him.
“Holy shit, you’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” His voice was ho
arse, his eyes dark with need as his focus traveled over my near nakedness, only my thong left in place. His gaze lingered briefly on my c-section scar.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, cautiously.
“Yes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. He needed to understand I wanted this, too. I wanted to make love to him. I wanted to replace the memories of that horrible night. I had the choice this time, and I chose him.
He placed his hand on my chest. “Your heart is racing. We don’t have to do this.”
“I realize that. I know I can pick up my dress right now and walk out your front door. I don’t want to, though. I want to be here with you. I want to feel you inside of me, I want to take back everything that was stolen from me, and I want to do it with you.”
He reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, removing it and tossing it on the floor. I scanned his muscular chest, arms, and thick, corded shoulders. His abs rippled as he flipped the button open on his slacks but didn’t remove them.
“I want to show you how much I love you,” he said, pulling me flush against him. My breasts brushed against his hot skin and a rush of heat pulsed between my legs.
“I want to show you what it should be like when someone loves you. Tonight is all about you.” He kissed me and stepped back.
“Get comfortable on the bed,” he ordered.
Embarrassed, I sat down and scrambled backward awkwardly on the giant mattress.
“You have nothing to be shy about. You’re so beautiful it's hurting me. I’m going to lie down next to you if it’s okay?”
I patted the bed next to me, my heart pounding so hard I thought I might pass out. The mattress gave under his weight, and I rolled into him, my back arching and my breasts flattening against his chest. He scooted back enough to allow some space between us and gently caressed my cheek. His hand cupped my breast and I gasped, his touch scaring and electrifying me at the same time.
“Does it feel good?” he asked, gauging my reaction before taking me into his mouth, his tongue flicking across my nipple. My body melted, the sensation on my skin so intense I was afraid I might black out. I rolled over onto my back and threaded my hands through his hair, holding him to me, while he stroked my sensitive nipple with his tongue.