Cross Crease (On The Edge Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hartey

  Then, as if I willed it to happen, the song ends, and the band starts rocking the song, The Wolf. I snicker. How fucking perfect. It’s my ringtone on Pippa’s phone. Everyone on the dance floor goes wild, everyone except Pippa. She pushes out of dickhead’s arms and slowly turns in circles, searching the room. I know she’s looking for me. When our eyes lock, I can tell she’s pissed. I put my arms out on either side, palms up and shrug, miming the fact I have no idea why they’re playing the song. Her narrow-eyed glare and pursed lips tell me she doesn’t believe me.

  “It wasn’t me,” I mouth while shaking my head. Meanwhile, the fuckwad starts grinding into her from behind in the guise of dancing. Pippa jumps in shock, turns, and glances down at his crotch. I’m going to pummel the motherfucker all the way back to his rat lab.

  When the suggestive song ends, the music slows. The lead singer begins rasping out the lyrics to, Say You Won’t Let Go. It’s like this song set is a musical journey through the bullshit Pip and I are living.

  Fuck it. It’s time for me to get in there. I gulp down the last three bourbon shots lined up for me on the bar and make my somewhat whiskey-labored prowl across the dance floor. Pippa has her back to me and doesn’t see me approaching. She’s all nestled in the bastard’s arms. His fucking eyes are closed, while I’m sure, his hard-on is pushing into Pippa’s leg.

  I tap her on the shoulder. When she turns, the shithead opens his moony, motherfucking eyes. Not waiting for a reaction, I push him away from Pippa. “I think this is my dance.” I wrap an arm around her waist. “You don’t mind. Right, pal?” I give zero fucks if he minds.

  “Oh…I…uh…Heaven?” He glances at Pippa and gives her an is-this-okay-look.

  “Josh, this is Damon Wolfe. Wolfe, this is Dr. Joshua Littner.” Pip fidgets with the bracelet on her wrist when she makes the awkward introduction.

  “Of course. The infamous hockey player. Don’t really watch the game. Never really got into the sport. But I’ve heard so much about you.” He extends his slimy hand. I don’t take it.

  “Too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing.” The loser’s probably never gotten into any sport. Too busy playing with lab rats. Not wasting another second talking to the asshat, I sweep Pippa away, swaying in time to the music. At least I’m trying to sway to the music. The excessive bourbon isn’t conducive to non-wobbly dancing. Pip stiffens in my arms. She’s probably annoyed at the way I treated the dickhead. I’m not apologizing.

  I pull her in close. The evocative song lyrics swirl around us. “This is our song,” I whisper in her ear.

  She lets out a sigh. I can feel her tension evaporating as she settles into my arms. I bend my head down to nestle it next to hers.

  “Jesus. What is that smell?”

  “Are you saying I smell?” She stops short, causing me to stumble and step on her foot. “Ow-wah?” Damn. Great way to kill the mood.

  “I’m trying to say you smell like something I want to eat.” I focus on the music and resume swaying in slow, seductive movements.

  Once more my comment distracts her long enough for her to forget her anger. “Oh, that’s my Bum Bum cream,” she answers.

  “Your bum smells like caramel and vanilla? Now I know I want to eat you.” I nuzzle my nose into her neck.

  “Not my bum. My…and you smell like a distillery.” She stops dancing again. “How much have you had to drink, D?” She pushes my head up.

  Uh oh. She remembers she’s annoyed with me. Still, I didn’t miss the way she trembled when I mentioned wanting to eat her.

  “Not enough to make me think this is a good idea. But enough to not give a fuck.” I pull her against me to make her feel how much I don’t give a fuck about doing the right thing.

  She gasps. “What…what’s going on, D? What are you doing?” she asks, as we stand frozen in place on the dance floor. Has to be a rhetorical question because she can’t miss what my cock is doing. “You’ve made it more than clear what you think about us getting together. I told you I was sorry about what I did last night. And now…” She takes a quick glance down.

  “Forget everything I said. What I’m trying to do now is show you how much I want you, how much I want to touch you, taste you, be inside you, make you scream my name.” My words come out in a raspy growl.

  Her legs give out under her, and she falls into my arms. Closing her eyes, she lets out a long calming breath. I’m as shocked by what I’m saying as she is, but I can’t stop myself from expressing what I’ve been thinking for so long.

  When she finally opens her eyes, she keeps them focused on the floor while asking, “Are you trying to get back at me for last night?”

  “Get back at you?” I chuckle. Placing a finger under her chin, I tilt her head back to look into the eyes that have held me captive for seven years. “Okay. If that’s what you want to call it, let’s get back at each other like we did last night.”

  Someone bumps me from behind. In my unsteady state, I lurch forward and step on Pippa’s other foot.

  “Ouch! May…maybe we better sit down before I end up with a broken toe.” She smiles up at me. God, how I love that smile.

  I take her by the hand and lead her toward the bar. The room continues to spin even though we’re not dancing any longer. “Let me get you a drink.”

  When Phil, the bartender, sees me he places a double bourbon on the rocks in front of me. “Thanks, man.” I pull out a barstool for Pip and offer to help her up before sliding or should I say nearly toppling onto mine.

  “And for the young lady?” Phil asks.

  “What’s your poison tonight, Pip?”

  “Water with lemon, please. I drank my yearly poison limit last night, if you remember,” she says and slides onto the stool next to me.

  “You can bring me another one of these too, Phil.” I chug down the bourbon.

  “Comin’ right up, Wolfe.” Phil scurries off to get our drinks.

  “I do remember last night. You were amazing.” I run the back of my hand down her silky cheek. She gets chill bumps at my touch, while at the same time her face warms in a pink flush.

  “I want to be the one touching you tonight. I want to put my hands and lips all over you.” I lean toward Pippa to continue whispering seductive suggestions into her ear.

  The earth seems to tip off its axis. I topple off the barstool. Falling into her, she gasps when my weight hits her. My face is pressed against her neck, my lips tasting her sweetness and somehow my right hand has landed on one of her boobs. It feels perfect in my hand. I swear it was an accident.

  “That’s it. Time for bed.” Pippa pushes my hand off her boob but not before I feel her nipple tighten.

  “Exactly what I had in mind.” Even in my alcoholic haze, I know this is insanity. I’m being an asshole. But my whole body is longing for this woman. “Is your name Jasmine? Because I’m about to show you a whole new world.”

  “I meant, it’s time for you to go to bed. Alone. What is going on, D? You’re behaving like fifty shades of crazy right now.” She waves away Phil and the luscious amber liquid he’s carrying toward me.

  “I’m fifty shades of crazy for you, sweetheart.” I try to touch her again, but she pushes my hand away.

  “No. No more touching and definitely no more bourbon. It seems neither of us can handle our alcohol when we’re around each other. We become sloppy, horny drunks.”

  I’m about to protest, tell her how much I’ve wanted her long before I had one sip of bourbon. But then, for fuck’s sake, the douche shows up.

  “Everything okay here?” Jackoff asks in his sickening cheery, prep-boy voice.

  “Everything’s just fine, Jacob. No worries. Just having a drink with my girl.” The dickhead’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between Pip and me. That’s right, asshole. She’s mine. Back the fuck off. “Don’t you have some endangered slugs you need to rescue or something?” I feign a smile.

  “It’s fine, Josh. D’s been celebrating a little too hard. I
’m going to take him back to his cottage so he can sleep it off.” Pip slides off the barstool and brushes a kiss across the shithead’s cheek. I’m about to flatten the guy, until the damn room starts spinning again.

  Maybe I have overdone the bourbon a bit. I don’t usually drink this much hard liquor. I had my father as the perfect fucked up role model to remind me to stay away from it. Add on the fact it’s hockey season and this attempt to numb my brain was an all-around bad idea.

  “Let me help you,” the douche offers his assistance to Pippa while moving toward me. “He looks pretty unstable.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, buddy. At least not if you like your arm attached to your body.” I wave him back.

  “D!” Pippa scolds me. “I’m so sorry, Josh. I’ll be fine. Let me take him. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You sure? He looks kind of…big.” I swear the asshole looks at my crotch when he says that. Poor bastard. He’ll probably have an inferiority complex for the rest of his life. “He might be too heavy for you to handle.” He keeps talking to Pippa like I’m not standing right here.

  “No need for you to worry about how she handles me. I’m going to teach her everything she needs to know.” My intention is to tap him on the shoulder, but the tap turns into more of a shove.

  “Maybe someone needs to teach this hockey barbarian some manners.” For a smart guy, the prick’s pretty fucking stupid. He actually pushes me back. I take a step backward but keep myself upright and move toward him. I’m going to pulverize his scientific ass.

  Pippa comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my body to keep me from moving. I could easily get out of her hold to deck this bastard, but I like the way she feels wrapped around me.

  “I’ll be fine, Josh. I’ll bring him to his room and come back. He just needs to sleep this off. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

  “Text me if you need me,” he says to Pip as he glares at me.

  Pippa takes my hand and drags me away from the bar. “She won’t be needing you,” I yell over my shoulder to the asshat.

  “Shh. Quiet. What has gotten into you?” Pip says in a hushed tone. Nothing. But wait till you see what’s about to get into you.

  “What did you say?” Shit. Did I say that out loud? “I think we need to make a deal. No more AMF’s for me and no more bourbon for you. Ever.”

  “Aw, but I love the way you look after you’ve had a few AMF’s, all flushed and pink. But then I love the way you look all the time.” I’m leaning against Pippa. She’s half dragging me, half walking me as we make our very long journey to the guest cottages.

  “Never mind how I look. I’m never drinking again if last night is any indication as to how I behave. This helping each other walk our drunk asses back to our rooms is getting to be a bad habit.”

  “I think you mean how you misbehave. Did I mention how much I loved the way your drunk ass looked last night when you were misbehaving?” I nuzzle my nose into her neck.

  “Stop it, D.” She shoves my head up.

  “And anyway, everyone says ‘I’m never drinking again’ the day after until the next celebration rolls around.” Where the hell is my cabin? Did they move it? I don’t remember it being so far away.

  “I’m serious. Never again. And you definitely shouldn’t either,” she insists.

  “Another thing they all say.” I try to wave her overused vow off, but when I move too fast, my head spins. I think I’m going to pass out. For a second, I forget where I am.

  “It’s okay. We’re almost there.” Pip’s sweet voice reminds me whose arms are wrapped around me keeping me upright. The lust surges through me, jolting me awake.

  “Here we are.” She clucks her tongue when she turns the doorknob on my cottage and the door swings open. “Look at that. You didn’t lock your door. How careless of you. Don’t you know there could be some crazy fangirls hiding under your bed waiting to have their way with you?” I think she’s teasing me with the same warning I gave her last night.

  “There’s only one fangirl who’s going to have her way with me tonight,” I mumble as I step into the cottage. Stumbling toward the bedroom, I keep tearing my clothes off as I go. I have to lay down before I fall down.

  “Oh? And who would that be?” Pippa trails behind me, picking up my discarded clothes from the floor.

  “C’mere. I’ll show you.” I push out the words as I flop back onto the bed.

  “You couldn’t possibly be referring to me. Because I’m no fangirl of yours, especially not after tonight,” Pip scowls as she tugs my shoes and socks off.

  I managed to get my jacket and shirt off. I’m still working on the damn belt buckle to get my pants off. I can’t feel my fingers as I attempt to tug open my belt. Suddenly, I’m enveloped in a swirling haze. It’s like a black vortex pulling me in, swallowing me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Heaven

  “D? Are you okay? D? Guess not.” He’s out cold. “Hmmph. Here, let me help you. What was that? We’re completely wrong for each other?” I continue to taunt the unconscious pain in my ass stretched out across the bed while unbuckling his belt.

  “You’re no good for me? I should find the right guy for me, you say?” I gibe as I lean over D and struggle to slide his pants down off his legs. “What’s that? Oh, now you want me? Want to taste me? Be inside me? Sure. No problem. So what if you’re the most annoying, infuriating…oh…oh my.”

  When I look up, I realize as I was sliding D’s pants down, his briefs slid down with them. Apparently, his penis hasn’t gotten the we’re-stone-cold-cataleptic message. He’s in full-on erect mode and peeking at me over the top of his briefs.

  Other than the long-distance blurry-eyed view I had last night during our remote interaction, I’ve never seen D…um…in his entirety. And his entirety is pretty darn impressive. A little too impressive for a girl who hasn’t had anything inside her besides two fingers and a tiny Lelo vibrator.

  Who in the world has a vagina big enough to accommodate that thing? And why am I being such a reprehensible perv and staring at an unconscious man’s penis? The polite thing to do is slide his briefs up. I mean, I can’t leave him lying there with the elastic around his shaft all night. It might cause physical damage.

  “’Kay. Here goes.” I slide my fingertips into the waistband of D’s briefs and stretch it to clear his massive erection. When I do, his colossal penis boings toward me like a pogo stick in flight. I stop short and hold my breath, waiting for him to wake up and ask me what the heck I’m doing. When he doesn’t, I begin breathing again—although I can’t seem to manage more than short, quick breaths. As I begin to slip his underwear up with a gentle tug, a large hand wraps around my wrist. The feral growl coming from the formerly sleeping giant sends sparks shooting through my body. The next thing I know, D yanks on my arm and I’m sprawled on top of him.

  “No. Let me help you.” The raspy voice sweeps over me like a hypnotic command.

  He finds the zipper on my dress and begins to slide it down but stops when I ask, “What are you doing? Has the bourbon pickled your brain?” I’m looking directly into his alluring eyes. We’re nose-to-nose. Our lips nearly touching. But I’m determined to remain aloof and in control.

  “The bourbon has told my brain to shut the fuck up for a change. I want to feel you naked against me. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life but if you tell me to stop I will,” he whispers, his bourbon-laced breath a magical aphrodisiac. My body is shaking in an intense hormonal dance. So much for aloof control.

  “You’ve had a lot to drink. What about everything you’ve said? I don’t want you to regret…”

  “Regret?” He takes the wrist he’s still holding and places my hand over his shaft, which seems to be even harder and bigger than it was a moment ago.

  “Feel that? Feel what you do to me? What you always do to me? I think I knew from the first time I saw you this was inevitable. We belong together.”

 
“You…you did? That’s how I felt too. But I didn’t think you…” He crushes his lips onto mine, swallowing my uncertain sentiment.

  He tastes like a mixture of whiskey, mint, and answered prayers. My mouth opens with a gasp for air. He invades it with his tongue, tasting me, teasing me. It’s the kiss I’ve been waiting years for. Not gentle. Hard, almost cruel, devouring away all my indecision. I return his savage hunger, my tongue warring with his. His hard shaft throbs against me.

  Breaking our kiss, he whispers against my lips, “I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship, but I want to show you how good this can be.”

  “Risk it. Show me.” My blunt commands are all I can manage. My body is on fire. I’m going to burn up in his arms. I had no idea it would be this intense.

  He continues sliding my zipper down. It opens in an effortless glide as if offering its assistance to render me naked in his arms. He finds the looped buttons holding the one-shoulder strap at my neck and with a quick flick pops them open. His fingers aren’t having any problem maneuvering buttons or clasps now. The top of my dress falls, exposing one side of my strapless lace bra and the eager puckered nipple pressing against it.

  Lifting his head, he runs his tongue in a circle around the responsive peak. He rewards its attentiveness by savagely sucking on it through the fabric.

  “Oh, God.” I grind against him with a wanton need. “Please,” I beg him, but I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.

  “Please what? What do you want?” He continues to tease me with his tongue.

  “I think…oooh…you know exactly…exactly what I want. I’ve been begging you for it for four years.” My answer is a breathy moan.

  Gripping his fingers through my hair, he gently tugs my head back. His predatorial glare pierces me. I feel it right between my legs. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” His words are a gravelly demand.