She sat there, her hand clasped in his, noticing that he didn’t ask her the same question in return. She wasn’t sure if it was lack of caring on his part, or the automatic assumption that she was happy which prevented him from asking, but to her, in that moment, both things were equally as offensive.
CHAPTER TEN
Chase watched the woman sitting next to him as she plucked the toothpick out of her martini glass and brought the olive to her lips. She lifted her eyes, making eye contact with him as she opened her mouth, her tongue slowly running along the bottom of the olive as she slid it off the toothpick and into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her eyes still locked on his, a small, seductive smile curving her lips.
What the hell was he doing here?
He had met this woman a few weeks ago at some tawdry open mic night, and before he’d left, she had given him her number. He thought she was sexy as hell in a dirty, provocative sort of way, and the way she had touched him as they spoke that night was a clear indicator of exactly why she was giving him her number. And although he had kept it since then, he never had any real intentions of calling her.
Until tonight.
He watched her twirling the toothpick between her fingers in a conspicuous attempt at being sexy, and he felt almost nauseated. Few things turned Chase off more than blatantly obvious attempts at being seductive. A girl who was inadvertently sexy, one who was totally unaware of her appeal, of the power that she wielded, that was what could drive him crazy with desire. Girls like that could bring him to his knees.
Girls like Andie.
He dropped his head slightly as he closed his eyes. Here he was with this beautiful woman who was clearly interested in giving him whatever he desired from her, and yet he could not get his mind off of his friend’s girlfriend.
He had decided to ask Colin to switch places at the last minute, a choice he questioned the entire plane ride home and throughout the week that followed. At the time he had convinced himself it was the smartest move; after what had almost happened between him and Andie on the dance floor the previous night, he thought it was in everyone’s best interest if they didn’t spend any more time alone together, at least not until they had some time away from whatever it was that had started to brew between them.
But when he forced himself to go upstairs and say good-bye to her—struggling under the pretense that everything was fine—the second he laid eyes on her, he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision.
He could see in her eyes that she was confused, that she was hurt, although she tried her hardest not to let it show, and he wanted so much to reassure her, to let her know this had nothing to do with being upset with her, or not wanting to spend time with her.
It was exactly the opposite.
But there was no way for him to make it better. Colin was right there, within earshot of any conversation they might have. And even if he wasn’t, what could he say? I think I’m falling for you, and I know I can’t have you, so it’s probably better if we don’t spend any more time together?
He opened his eyes and took a slow sip of his drink, vaguely aware that the woman next to him was speaking, but he couldn’t find it in him to focus on the words. This date was supposed to distract him; on some subconscious level, Chase knew that he called this girl tonight because she was Andie’s exact opposite: jet-black hair that fell to her waist, tan skin, bedroom eyes, clothes that fit her like they were painted on. Everything about her screamed seductress; this girl was playing a game, dancing a dance that she had perfected, and they both knew it.
He had thought he was safe in choosing Andie’s complete antithesis, yet ironically, everything this woman did reminded him of her. When she cursed outright, the boorish words falling from her tongue with ease, he couldn’t help but think of how the corners of Andie’s mouth would turn down in disapproval and that little crease would appear between her brows whenever she heard someone use unnecessary profanity. When this woman looked at him with contrived doe eyes, trying to appear innocent while expressing her sexual prowess, he was reminded of how Andie could effortlessly disarm him with a simple look, her eyes wide and clear, hiding nothing. When this girl ordered a shot of bourbon and took it without so much as a shiver, he was reminded of Andie’s appalled reaction to the Lemon Drop, and he couldn’t help but smile.
And once she was in his head, it was virtually impossible to get her out; the floodgates would open, and he’d be assaulted with memories of her. The way she looked laughing and dripping wet as they climbed out of the lake, her clothes clinging to every curve of her body. The way she felt in his arms, pressed up against him as they danced. What it would have felt like if she’d put her mouth on his.
He let that fantasy go a little further, continuing to ignore the insipid, faceless girl who sat next to him, completely lost in his own thoughts.
It wasn’t long before he felt himself getting worked up, and he cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat, attempting to regain control of his thoughts. His date caught this awkward maneuver, a slow smile spreading over her lips. She was obviously quite pleased with herself, having no idea what it was really all about.
He had spent most of the night so far allowing her words to run right through him; he was grateful she had nothing of substance to say, because it required him to contribute very little to the conversation. A nod, a smile, a laugh here and there, and she was totally appeased. Now, he turned to face her, trying hard to focus on her face, on the present.
He watched her mouth moving, the words not really registering, and he sighed to himself. Hadn’t he told Andie that he prided himself on doing what he wanted, when he wanted? Hadn’t he told her that he refused to live his life for other people? That he learned to do what would make him happy, regardless of what others expected of him?
But this was different.
Fuck. Why did it have to be different?
This was Colin’s girlfriend. He couldn’t do this. Chase was fully aware that he sometimes came off as an asshole to people who didn’t know him, but the truth was, he wasn’t. Right now though, he wished he was. He wished he didn’t give a shit what kind of pain he’d cause Colin, because he wanted her. In every possible way that a person could want another.
The girl next to him paused in the conversation, and Chase nodded and smiled, causing her to laugh shrilly and flash him one of her seductive looks again.
Andie had to know, Chase thought. She had to know how he felt. He was sure he saw it in her eyes on Tybee Island, and almost positive he saw it on the dance floor, felt it in the way her body kept gravitating toward his.
He brought his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip. And she had to know that Colin wasn’t right for her, he ruminated, the alcohol in his system beginning to fuel his thoughts. Chase could tell what that relationship was about. She had even said it herself. Colin was her safe pick. Her life was about safe picks, but deep down, he knew she wanted more than that.
That night in South Carolina, as she slept beside him, he had gotten a glimpse inside her mind without her permission. And he knew now that there was much more to her than what she was letting on.
Plus, every time he had pushed her beyond her limit, although she would react uneasily at first, she always ended up thrilling to the idea. Relishing it, even. He wanted to be the one to keep opening her eyes like that, to give her all the things she wanted but wouldn’t admit to anyone, not even herself. He wanted to be the one she experienced things with, to show her that it was okay to just…be.
But he couldn’t. He would never do that to Colin. What was more, he’d never do that to her, to turn her into someone who was deceitful, disloyal.
But God, he could see himself with her.
He closed his eyes and brought his drink to his lips, and this time, as the image of being with Andie played out behind his eyelids, he let it. The alcohol was making him cavalier, and he was tired of fighting it. And so he let himself go in the fantasy, enjoying every last imagined, fabricated m
oment.
He had almost forgotten about the girl next to him until he felt her shift in her seat, and the next thing he was aware of was her hand grazing his crotch, the evidence of his arousal.
He cocked his head to the side, looking at her; she had one eyebrow raised, a wry smirk twisting her mouth. She bit the side of her lip then, no doubt trying to look coy.
“Well, well, well,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “It appears that someone’s enjoying my company.” She smiled then, bringing her lips to Chase’s ear, and he was immediately engulfed in some sort of overwhelming musky perfume. “Let’s get out of here, baby,” she crooned, allowing her teeth to graze the shell of his ear before she pulled away from him.
Chase looked down, running his tongue over his teeth, and he took a deep breath before he brought his drink to his mouth, taking down the last of it as if it were a shot.
Fuck it, he thought, as he slammed his empty glass down on the bar and reached for her hand.
And so he drove them to his apartment, battling thoughts of Andie the entire way. She’s with Colin, he told himself as the girl stripped for him. I’m not doing anything wrong. I have no reason to feel guilty, he assured himself as she eagerly removed his clothes.
And when he entered her right there on his couch, he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the overdone, porn-like sounds spilling from her mouth, the show she was putting on for him. He imagined that the hair splayed out over the cushions was blonde. That the fingernails digging into his back were Andie’s. He disappeared within himself, allowing his mind to revisit his fantasy from the bar, only this time, he allowed himself to feel it. Feel Andie beneath him, feel her breath on his neck, feel their bodies connecting over and over. It wasn’t long before he found himself on the brink, and he grit his teeth together to prevent the word from spilling from his mouth.
Andromeda.
Beautiful.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Andie stood behind the bar at her father’s restaurant, a clipboard in her hand as her eyes scanned the shelves of liquor.
“This is ass backward, you know,” Tracey said, twisting back and forth on her bar stool like a child as she sipped her Cosmo through a straw.
“What is?” Andie said, lifting her eyes for a moment.
“Isn’t the bar patron supposed to be the one spilling her guts? It’s rarely the bartender pouring her heart out.”
Andie leaned over the bar and playfully rapped her friend on the head with the clipboard. “First of all, I’m not tending bar, I’m doing inventory. And second of all, you’re the one milking me for information.”
Tracey smirked. “Yes, and I’ve clearly been twisting your arm. It’s been like pulling teeth getting you to talk about this Chase guy.”
“Shh!” Andie said, her eyes flitting nervously around the bar before she put down her clipboard and buried her face in her hands. It had been two weeks since she’d returned from Florida, two weeks since she’d seen or spoken to Chase, and although she hoped that time would erase the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of him, if anything, it had only made it worse.
She knew part of the reason she felt the way she did was because she’d had no closure. And on top of that, she hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone, keeping what had happened, what she was feeling, to herself out of confusion and guilt. But it wasn’t going anywhere. She knew that now. And she realized the longer she let it go, the more it would fester.
She needed to tell someone.
So she called Tracey as the restaurant was about to close and asked her to stop by. It wasn’t unusual for her friend to come hang out at the bar while Andie was working. But this time, as soon as Tracey sat down, Andie unloaded, spilling the entire story, starting with their initial meeting at Justin’s engagement party over a year ago and ending with the abrupt way they had said good-bye in Florida. If anyone would give it to her straight, it would be Tracey. She was sure of that much. And maybe that’s all she’d need to purge him from her system—a good, strong dose of tough love.
“Why can’t I stop thinking of him?” Andie mumbled into her hands.
“Because you’re a red-blooded woman,” Tracey said, placing her drink on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Fantasies are healthy. You’re only freaking out because you’re so straight-laced all the time.”
Andie dropped her hands from her face, but her eyes remained downcast.
“I know, Andie,” Tracey said, suddenly sympathetic. “I know why you’re like that, as much as I make jokes. But the thing is, you’ve been that way for so long, and along comes this guy who rattles your cage.” She shrugged casually. “Of course that’s going to stick with you.”
“I love Colin,” she said firmly, as if she had to defend the notion. “So why can’t I get Chase out of my head?”
“Because you feel like it’s wrong, and so your subconscious is screwing with you. Which is also normal. Everyone wants what they can’t have. It’s like, a human condition or something,” Tracey said, leaning forward to sip her drink.
“Human condition,” Andie repeated softly, nodding her head, clinging to any explanation that would absolve her of her guilt.
“Think of it this way,” Tracey said, folding her arms on the bar and leaning in toward Andie. “Your brain is like a teenager from some tight-ass, super-strict upbringing who’s going away to college for the first time. You’ve kept a tight rein on it for so long, and now that it’s broken loose, it’s running rampant like a little drunken whore.”
Andie burst out laughing, shaking her head as she picked the clipboard back up.
“Don’t get freaked,” Tracey consoled her, picking up her drink and sitting back in her chair. “Like I said, this is normal. Fantasies are healthy,” she added, her eyes following the guy who was walking past the bar to the men’s room, flashing him a sexy smile.
Andie followed her gaze and rolled her eyes; he was Tracey’s typical type. Good-looking, with enough of a “bad boy” edge to make him mysterious. She looked back to her friend sitting at the bar, twirling her straw in her drink as she smiled to herself, throwing little glances in the direction of the men’s room, no doubt waiting for his reappearance.
Andie would never understand it. Tracey had only one long-term relationship in her life: her college boyfriend, Nate. He was so amazing, in every way, that Andie often found herself feeling a bit jealous of their relationship. He was sweet and attentive, but masculine. He was well read and intelligent, but he was funny and sociable. And so adorable, but yet had this understated sex appeal. After they broke up, Tracey started going for guys who were Nate’s exact opposite. Andie understood what she was doing at first, because what girl would want to date a guy who was exactly like her ex? But it had been a couple of years now, and Tracey had never gone back. She continued to go after the wrong type of guy, time and time again, even though it clearly wasn’t working for her.
A moment later the bathroom door opened, and Tracey’s person of interest for the evening reappeared, his eyes finding hers as he rounded the bar again. He smiled a cocky smile, lifting his chin in greeting as he walked past her. Tracey smiled and bit her lip, holding his gaze before she turned back toward Andie, quirking her brow.
She felt a slight sadness for her friend at that moment, and she wasn’t sure why. After all, who was she to pass judgment after spending the past hour ranting about a man who was not her boyfriend?
Andie continued taking inventory as Tracey finished her drink, the conversation taking on a much lighter tone as she watched her friend shoot “come hither” looks to the mystery man from the bathroom. About ten minutes later, Andie was able to fully devote her attention to the task at hand when said man sauntered up to the bar, flashing Tracey his arrogant smile and effectively ending their conversation.
Tracey and her new friend Dave were the last ones to leave the restaurant, and as Andie gave her friend a hug, she whispered the obligatory gentle warning in her ear, to
which Tracey responded with the standard, “Of course I’ll be careful.” It was a dance they had mastered over the years.
One by one, her staff began to leave the restaurant, and Andie lingered, finding things to clean and organize. She didn’t want to go home yet, not while her mind was still spinning. Tracey had promised her that what she was feeling was normal. Just a run-of-the-mill human condition, the desire for something that was immoral. Happens to everyone.
So why didn’t she feel reassured?
About a half hour later, she looked around the bar with a sigh, realizing she had exhausted all reasons for staying. Andie draped the rag she had used to wipe down the bar over the side of the sink as she reached below it to grab her purse.
And then she froze, spying the bottle of Grey Goose.
Before she even consciously decided to do it, Andie was back behind the bar, fishing through the refrigerator compartment and coming out with a lemon wedge. She grabbed the container of sugar, dipping the wedge into the glittery granules until it was coated before placing it gently on a napkin. Then she reached above her and pulled a shot glass down from the shelf.
“What are you doing?” she asked herself quietly as she poured a shot of vodka. With a deep breath, Andie lifted it to her lips. “To the human condition,” she toasted, before tossing her head back and draining it. She flinched, reaching quickly for the lemon and popping it into her mouth, allowing the sugary lemon juice to take the bite out of the shot.
She blew out a slow breath as she tossed the lemon rind into the trash next to her before she closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep from her throat to her stomach and out through her extremities.
She remembered the last time she felt this way, the pleasant heat coursing through her, suddenly intensified by his words.
Will you dance with me?
She opened her eyes, reaching for the bottle again.
Emancipating Andie Page 12
