by Jenn Hype
The real problem now? I knew she wanted me too. That despite her hatred for me, the attraction was mutual. You can't fake that shit. And when she relaxed into me I had the very unacceptable urge to haul her out of that club over my shoulder and claim her as mine.
That possessive, caveman instinct? A completely foreign concept to me. Fucking I could do. And I did it well. Not once did I ever feel an animalistic need to own someone. Not even with Julia, my one serious relationship.
But could I really go on denying how much I hated seeing her with other men, though? The idea of her on dates with anyone, even a decent guy, made me see red. Jealousy? Fuck that. I'd never felt jealousy before. Ever. But now? Now I had to wonder. What else could it be?
The men's room in a bar wasn't the place for reflecting on oneself. If I took too much longer people would come looking for me before I was ready to face anyone.
After readjusting my still half hard dick in my pants, I finally exited the bathroom. It didn’t take long to scan the room and come to the realization that Clara was nowhere to be found. Hanging out in the shadows of the hall where the bathrooms were located, I waited a few minutes to see if she’d emerge from the ladies. I wanted to make sure she was okay before we rejoined our friends. If she acted weird, CJ would start asking questions. Couldn't have that. I didn't want to lie to him, but I couldn't tell him the truth either.
Several minutes later and another scan of the bar for a flash of Clara's bright yellow dress only to come up empty and I became too worried to stand around. What if that asshole from earlier had pulled her into a dark corner near the bathroom and was trying to force himself on her? A bunch of ludicrous scenarios flashed through my mind, each worse than the one before.
Marching over to the women's bathroom, since I knew she wasn't in the men's, I threw the door open. A girl shrieked but I ignored her and started checking under the stalls. Several sets of heels, none of them as yellow as the sun.
“Perv!” The shrieking girl yelled before she clubbed me over the head with her purse.
“What the fuck is in that thing?” I asked as I rubbed the back of my head. When I looked at her and saw her aiming pepper spray in my face, I didn’t wait for an answer.
The bar had filled almost to capacity while I'd been searching for Clara. I had to push my way through thick crowds of people to get back to the table where everyone still sat, chatting and laughing away. And standing right smack in the middle of them all? Clara. At least she looked fine. Not uncomfortable or emotional or awkward. Her smile genuine, her posture relaxed.
Which was good, right? That's what I wanted. For her to not be freaking out about what happened on the dance floor. So why did it piss me off that she seemed so damn unaffected? I was barely keeping my shit together.
"Where you been?" Malcolm asked when I approached, clapping me on the shoulder.
"Bathroom," I grunted, my eyes never straying from Clara. She, however, had yet to notice me. And the more seconds that passed with her not acknowledging my presence, the more irrationally angry I became. Not even a customary glare or her usual rolling of the eyes. I couldn't tell if she was doing it on purpose, either. She seemed totally engrossed in her conversation with Blake, not at all like she was just avoiding me.
Malcolm chattered on, about what, I had no clue. Between clenching my jaw, my fists and every muscle in my body just to keep my frustration contained, I didn't have the ability to even pretend to listen to him. And when Clara, Blake and Paige walked away from the table and towards the bar, I had to pretend my shoes were made of cement to keep my legs from following after her.
"Dude, chill the fuck out," Malcolm shouted, waving his hand in my face. I finally tore my eyes away from Clara to glare at him.
He jerked his head towards CJ, who was looking at me suspiciously.
Shit.
Running a hand down my face, I debated coming up with an excuse to leave. The timing would be suspect, though, and I didn't want to give CJ any more reason to question me.
A stacked brunette slid up next to me, giving me the exact distraction I needed.
"Dance with me?" She purred, pushing her tits against my arm.
A few months ago I wouldn't have hesitated to take her up on her offer, and after a few dances, take her home with me. Truthfully? I didn't want anyone but Clara. Harsh truth time. Inconvenient as hell, because even knowing Clara was attracted to me, it didn't change a damn thing. She'd never be mine, in any capacity.
That right there was what had me following the brunette to the dance floor. My head wasn't in it. My dick definitely wasn't in it. No part of me wanted to be there, a strange woman grinding her tiny body against mine. With gritted teeth and stubborn determination to get Clara off my mind, though, I made it through a song.
A few beats into the next one and I felt eyes on me. My dick sprung to life, the fucker only willing to be present where a certain unattainable blonde was concerned. Subtly shifting our bodies, I moved my dance partner with me until I had a clear view of Clara and her murderous eyes. When my hands flexed on the brunette's hips, Clara's nostrils flared.
I'd never been one to play games. I didn't have to when it came to women. If one wasn't interested, I moved on to the next. Still, I couldn't deny how fascinated I was watching Clara growing increasingly angry with each sway of my hips. She did not like seeing my body pressed up against another woman. And I'm ashamed to admit, I pushed her. A sick part of me wanted to see how far I'd have to go before she would break. Would she storm off, tired of watching and unwilling to let her anger get the best of her? Or would she march over, shoving my partner away and claiming me for herself.
No sense in denying it, I wanted it to be the latter. Maybe if she felt even a fraction of the frustration I felt when it came to her then our circumstances would change. If she pursued me, it would be a major game changer. Everyone would hate me if I were to seduce Clara, the innocent and beloved. But if she were to seduce me? Well, who could blame me then. Right?
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I ignored it. But as soon as the buzzing stopped, it started right back up again. Only one asshole would just keep calling until I picked up and that asshole was my father.
I tapped on the shoulder of the woman whose ass had been constantly rubbing against my groin but her eyes were closed and she either didn't feel my tapping or she was ignoring me. I took a step back and she didn't seem to notice so I didn't bother drawing attention to my departure.
My phone started ringing for the third time. I hit accept just before it went to voicemail again and once I was on the sidewalk, the bar having grown too loud to take a call inside.
"About damn time."
"Hello to you, too, father," I said flatly. He ignored my sarcasm.
"Three weekends from now I need you to attend a fundraiser. Bring a date. I'll have my secretary email you the details. Attendance is not optional."
"I'm great. The job is going well. Can't complain. Life is pretty good. How about you?"
"Cut the shit," he barked, impatience clear in his tone. "Cindy is in the bathroom getting less comfortable so I don't have much time."
"Oh? Is Cindy your latest girlfriend? Is she at least legal?"
He scoffed. "Of course she's legal."
I rolled my eyes. My dad's standards when it came to women were pretty low. After accidentally sleeping with a minor, he became more vigilant when it came to checking IDs. How fucking noble of him, right?
"Just send me the info. I'll be there."
"Good."
The line went dead.
"Love you too, dad. Nice talk," I said to the dial tone.
One day I'd grow some fucking balls and stop following my dad's orders. He was the only family I had, though, and I knew if I started saying no, he'd just stop calling. Pathetic that a grown man still sought the approval and affection of his father, eh? I couldn't help hoping one day he'd grow the fuck up and start being the father he should have been all along. Deep down I knew that wo
uld never happen, I just had trouble giving up on him.
Conversations with my father, no matter how brief, always called for a stiff drink afterward. Good thing I was already at a bar.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clara
“Um,” I mumbled like an idiot to the bartender. He had at least ten people trying to get his attention, yet he waited patiently for me to tell him my drink order.
I always ordered the same thing, but I wanted something different. My life had become so... regimented. Routine. Boring, even. Ridiculous, really, considering I had a booming business that I co-owned with my best friend that was growing so quickly we couldn't keep up. But that was my professional life. My personal life? Boring.
Except when it came to Liam. His unwelcome appearances always made things interesting. The problem with that? His way of making things interesting was also very destructive to my psyche. I'd never find a man with Liam always in the way. And once he grew bored of messing with me and moved on? I'd be back to boring. I couldn't depend on him to keep me entertained.
Plus I hated him. There was that.
It seemed like lately I kept forgetting that little detail. I'd actually started to find his antics amusing. I'd go to my grave with that, though.
Tonight, our heated moment on the dance floor? Well, it confused me even more. Keeping my attraction under wraps was hard enough, but for a minute there it seemed like I wasn't alone in that arena. I could have sworn he felt it too. The pull, the spark, the heat.
A more confident woman probably would have done something bold, like rub herself up against him or...I can't even think of another example. Because I'm not that woman. I'm the woman who panics and lets self-doubt and insecurities run the show. I'd ran outside to cool my panties (metaphorically) and went through a series of scary scenarios, each worse than the next.
If Liam really was attracted to me, that was great! Right? Wrong. I had a sex drive like any normal woman, but what I didn't have, was experience. I'd never been more physically attracted to a man in my life than I was with Liam. I wanted him so bad I could barely breathe when I pictured his face. So having him pressed up against me? Feeling his hard body against mine, his hot breath on my neck? I actually feared I would combust right there in the middle of the bar. Just burn right up from the inside out. My heart had never beat so hard or so fast.
So as you can see, having my attraction returned? Dangerous. I didn't know how to flirt with a man I actually wanted. I definitely didn't know how to act interested sexually. I had my own apartment, a college degree and owned a successful online fashion line, but I'd never had an orgasm. Not even the self-induced kind.
Next to my bed was a drawer full of sex toys. All unused and/or unopened. That drawer? It terrified me. The idea of even opening it gave me nightmares.
When puberty hit and most girls were exploring their sexuality, I had been going through a chubby phase. Even being naked by myself made me feel insecure and twitchy. By the time I had my first boyfriend, most of the baby fat had started to melt off, but my hips and stomach refused to cooperate. I dieted and exercised, but nothing worked. Looking back, I know I wasn't fat. I had no reason to feel so ashamed of my body. But teenagers were insecure by nature, and when you tacked on the teasing from other girls and the condescending and subtle criticism of your first love? Loving yourself became impossible.
Billy Jergensen, that little jerk, eventually dumped me for the school floozy. He'd even made sure to tell me during our breakup that he'd only dated me because he thought I'd be easy, since no one else wanted to date the school fatty.
You can imagine what that did to my self-esteem. Maybe if I would have shared with someone what went down with Billy, they could have done something to boost me back up, but I'd been too embarrassed. So I suffered in silence, dieting harder and exercising to the point of sickness. In the end it became apparent my curves were there to stay.
I'd always loved sewing, but that's when my hobby became a full-blown obsession. Finding clothes that fit my form wasn't easy, especially in a style I liked. Bright colors and patterns in feminine 50s era styles were my favorite, and making my clothes was just easier than shopping for them. Of course that didn't help me blend in any better with my peers. All it did was ostracize me even more, but I didn't care. Conforming never had been appealing to me and if people were going to pick on me anyway, I may as well be wearing clothes I loved when it happened.
Anyway, the more time that passed without my experiencing anything sexual with boys, the more stressed I became. I couldn't handle another humiliating debacle with a man, so I'd put off getting intimate for so long that most guys grew impatient and either pressured me or just ended things without explanation, even though I knew the reasons. No amount of pressure could get me to cave, though, and before I knew it, I was a college graduate who'd never been to first base.
So having someone like Liam be attracted to me? Flattering, but scary as hell. Even if I managed to overcome my insecurities enough to do anything about it, I'd undoubtedly wind up being a disappointment.
Turned out, all that freaking out had been for naught. Liam took the hand of the first floozy to offer herself up and started dry humping her right there on the dance floor. Much dirtier and more sexual than what he'd done with me. The most sensual moment of my entire life was nothing to him. Not surprising, yet still disappointing. And I hated myself for being so damn disappointed. I had no business wanting someone like Liam. He was so far out of my freaking league it was laughable.
Unable to watch him practically having sex right there in front of me, I stomped over to the bar to order something a lot stronger than my usual drink. Except, I had no idea what kind of drink to order. I needed a freaking menu or something to help me out. Why couldn’t bars have those big signs like coffee houses do? I mean, who just magically knows all the different types of drinks to be ordered? There were about a thousand bottles of different size, shape and color lining the inside walls of the bar and I only recognized about two of them.
The sexy bartender waited patiently, wiping down the counter while I chewed on my lip.
Seeming to understand my conundrum, the bartender winked and walked away, leaving me standing there, still mute. He returned all of thirty seconds later with something pink and pretty with the most adorable little umbrella.
I frowned at it.
“Want something different?” He asked, confusion apparent in his tone.
My frown turned into a pout when I looked up at him. “No. It’s just too pretty to drink. I’ll be sad when it’s gone.”
The bartender barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You are too cute. Tell you what, when that one is gone, you come back and I’ll make you another.”
I wasn’t trying to be cute, I was being serious. It even had a little strawberry slice with pink sugar crystals coating the rim and pink whipped cream. How did he get the whipped cream to be pink? I didn’t want to drink it. I wanted to snuggle it, pet it and show it love like I would a tiny kitten.
Reluctantly, I took the drink and made my way back to our table. Blake appeared to have dragged my brother off to dance, Malcolm was standing with a group of people I didn't recognize and the only people left sitting at the table were Paige and Josi. I slid into an empty stool and took my first sip.
Hot damn, that’s good.
And strong, apparently, because I'd started wobbling in my seat by the time I took the last sip. Having not eaten all day probably contributed to how quickly the alcohol hit me.
"Let's dance!" I shouted, yanking Jo's arm and dragging her out to the dance floor with me. After retrieving another pretty pink drink, obviously.
Five songs, two more drinks and three dance partners later, I was thoroughly sloshed.
Classy as always, Clara.
“I think it’s time to slow down on the drinks,” Paige laughed when I started doing the Nae Nae.
“Don’t be jealous of my awesome dance moves."
A little bit o
f my drink spilled over the edge of the glass and I pouted.
Sorry pretty drink. I didn’t mean to waste you. I’ll be more careful.
Jo saw someone she recognized and excused herself. Paige started hopping from foot to foot anxiously.
“I have to go to the bathroom. You going to be okay out here by yourself for a minute?” She yelled over the music.
I nodded. “Take this away for me, will you?” I asked, handing her my drink.
“I’ll bring you a water on my way back.”
Paige took off and I closed my eyes, raising my hands above my head and swaying to the music. Not even thirty seconds had passed before I felt someone approach me. Wishful thinking had me hoping it was Liam, but I knew right away it wasn’t. This guy was smaller and reeked of cheap cologne. I opened my eyes and tried to discreetly dance away from him, but the more I tried to edge the other way, the more he closed the space between us.
“Sorry, not interested,” I told the middle-aged man who apparently wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Instead of backing off, he pressed closer and jerked me around by my hips until my back was to his front. I struggled to get out of his hold, but he dug his fingers into my side hard enough that I knew I’d have bruises when I woke up.
“One song won’t kill you,” he said as he ground his erection into my lower back. His breath smelled like stale beer and my stomach lurched.
We were in a crowded place with plenty of witnesses. I knew it wasn’t like he could actually hurt me, but that didn’t stop the panic from gripping my throat and trying to strangle the life out of me. Between the alcohol and my panicked breathing, my vision started to blur and the room spun.
“She said she wasn’t interested. Back off.”
