by Pamela Ann
“Heaven help us if you did fuck me.” I almost laughed at the stupidity of this conversation.
I was about to say something snarky when I felt his arm loosely drape across my waist before he left a soft kiss behind my ear.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, babe. We’re both tired. The past, the present, and what happens in the future—let’s forget it all. I just want to be in the moment … with you and nothing else.”
I didn’t say anything. I was beyond words. Not only that, but the way he held me made me consider that he might just like having a girl around to cuddle with, and I was a good candidate for it. This didn’t mean anything, not in a way that mattered. Still, I would take what I could get and simply pray to God I could come out of this sane.
It didn’t take long until I became subdued, gradually drifting halfway into subconscious with his arms fastened around me. Never had I realized how a woman could feel safe when the person who held her was the one she held dear to her heart. It was wrong to feel right, but there was nothing else to describe it.
“Chlo?” His lips touched the base of my neck then trailed against the soft, sensitive side just above my shoulder. “Baby …?” he said, breathing the scent of my skin, and then I felt the tip of his nose brushing softly, affectionately. “I’ll see you in your dreams, cupcake.”
Chapter 47
It was his masculine scent that lured me out of my dream. His smell was so deeply entrenched in my psyche that I could easily recognize it, even unconscious. It was that rousing, faint scent of his aftershave and his own signature musk that never failed to make my insides coil. Some article online had stated that, if you loved or desired someone greatly, their scent evoked all sorts of reactions to your brain and body. This reaction could double in intensity if the particular smell was accompanied by something eventful. I, for one, could very well attest to it. It always drew me back to him like a force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t get enough.
On that note, I peeled my eyes open and was greeted by the rigid, hard planes of his chest. From this angle, I could appreciate it more.
Our bodies were still entangled, though his hold had loosened. I was keen to the fact that he had never withdrawn from me while asleep.
I stared at his face, contemplating what to do next, before I carelessly submitted to the urge to touch him, softly tracing his lines with my fingers. I grazed his morning stubble up toward the bottom of his lip, tracing it with my thumb. I then dragged my eyes toward his neck, my fingers following suit then trailing along his chest as it rose and fell before drifting to his abdomen.
Biting the inside of my lip, I caressed his defined lines and smooth ridges with a child-like mixture of awe and fascination. Inhaling sharply, I carried on with my exploration, and just when it was about to travel farther below, he swiftly clamped down on my hand with his, grasping it so strongly he almost cut the blood supply to my poor hand.
“You’ve explored enough.”
My throat constricted as our eyes clashed—mine wild, his full of challenging uncertainty.
“Why can’t I have free reign like you have with me?” I croaked out, unwilling to give up my newfound fascination with this close examination.
“I don’t want to cross the point of no return.”
My eyes dropped to the growing bulge that a mere sheet could barely conceal. The very thought of it—to feel its strength, its force—created a quiet storm within me.
“I want to taste you … just this once.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s a solid no.”
His answer wasn’t surprising at all. What was shocking was my relentless pursuit. No one could accuse me of not trying.
“Come, let me carry you to the bathroom,” he suggested with a pleading look.
If this was his way of diffusing the situation, he had a lousy way of doing it. Besides, like I had any choice. He would take me there, anyway, just to get me out of bed.
“Whatever makes you comfortable, Drew. Let’s have at it, yeah?”
He cupped my face before pressing his lips to my forehead. “You’re very precious to me. I just want you to know that.” He caressed my cheek with his lips, leaving a few marks before the bottom of his lip almost caressed the side of my own lips. Somehow, he stopped himself, breathing heavily against that part of the face where the bottom of the cheek met the curve of my lip. “God, I can’t. Why do I fucking want you so badly it’s almost painful?”
We both wanted it, this, but his conscience was getting in the way. How did one convince a decidedly stubborn man to abandon his “Chloe equals chastity” stance? He had done it once, and it seemed his guilt had gotten the best of him.
“We have all weekend to ourselves to get it out of our system. I’m all yours to do as you please.”
“No …” he drawled out the word without the harsh tone he had previously used.
I braced myself, and then I daringly brought his hand between my thighs before letting out a stifled moan. “I need you—here. I need to feel you—here.”
His eyes darkened, leaving little to no blue in their depths as he mustered the courage to have some form of restraint.
“Chloe—” he cursed my name when he felt me squeeze his balls with firm determination.
“We have a day and a half. That should be enough time … to get this out of our system,” I choked out, pressing his middle finger to my moist crevice, dipping it right between the fold. My other hand hadn’t detached from his member, and it was growing thicker by the second. I could feel his barriers beginning to crumble. It was his eyes that gave it away, roaming about me, then his labored breathing. Everything was coming into play, and I knew I had him under my spell … up until his phone began to ring.
Without bothering to glance at me, he stretched out to reach for his phone, simultaneously unlatching my hook on him. Just as he settled back, little, curious me got in the way and decided to cock my head to the side so I could peek at the screen. “Caroline,” it said at the top, and a whole list of women’s names lit up, showing me a glimpse of how many messages he had received while sleeping. It was probably a list of women who’d wanted a piece of him last night. No wonder he could easily refuse a woman—insert desperate me, begging for him when he could readily choose from a vast selection of models. According to Jackson, it was all he dated. I certainly wasn’t model material, and there in lay my damn problem.
Like hell I would change just so he would find me desirable. There was no lack of men who would appreciate curves, so this retched feeling of being too ugly needed to fester somewhere else. I had dealt with enough of these insecurities all through middle and high school. This bitch surely wasn’t welcome in this new phase in my life. I would boot it out even if it meant having to surround myself with people who saw the beauty of my sarcasm and wit, not my physical attributes.
With the spell broken, I felt foolish. Drew was letting me down slowly, yet I couldn’t seem to get it through my dense skull. I seriously had to stop trying.
“Pancakes and bacon for breakfast?”
His question threw me off.
Frowning, I blinked a few times. “Pancakes?” I asked, wondering why he would mention food at such a sensitive time.
“Yes, food. Pancakes, babe.” He shook his head before kissing my forehead. “Okay let’s get you to the bathroom to freshen up. Then I’ll cook while you sit like a good girl on top of the counter, cheering me on. I’ll even put some bananas and whipped cream on top,” he said, trying to entice my sweet-driven palette.
“Stop making it difficult to concentrate on not liking you right now.”
“You care about me too much to hate me.” He smirked then kissed my forehead again.
No truer words had ever been said.
Rolling my eyes, I finally relented and made him take me to the bathroom and afterward to the white marble island kitchen counter where I watched, grinning at his antics of pretending to be a master chef in his domain while speaking out loud about h
is masterful whipping technique as he explained the lengthy list of ingredients before showcasing how to properly butter a heated pan.
How could I keep a scowl on my face when he was being irresistible and cute? He and I would be fine. We had too much history to let it ruin everything, as friends or as close to friends.
For the remainder of the weekend, he tried to sleep in his bedroom, but ended up joining me in the wee hours of the morning. He and I never discussed what had happened the day after that first night he had slept next to me. I supposed, in a way, we had a silent pact that, as long as I behaved, we would enjoy each other’s company without the intimacy part. For the first time, I truly believed that we were building a friendship, the lasting kind.
He had been such a major help to me, and he didn’t mind that I relied on him. In fact, he welcomed it with a smile. It was one of those times that it dawned on me that I would rather keep this than harboring a lost love that carried a burden of endless heartache. I knew, in due time, I would eventually move on. For the time being, though, being friends wasn’t as bad as I had first thought. The funny, witty side of him resurfaced, and as a true friend, that was all I could hope and ask for.
As for the rest … I hadn’t scratched the surface yet. The best was yet to come.
Chapter 48
It had been three weeks since the accident, and school had been a difficult ordeal—manageable but difficult. Eight days until my doctor’s appointment. I was hoping he would give me the clear and finally let me out of this boot for good. Never had I appreciated my functional foot than I did now.
The past weeks had been less than eventful, all thanks to my lovely boot. Not that it hadn’t crossed my mind to accept one of Spencer’s offers to party with them, but when I was about to accept, something always stopped me. It was all about having fun and enjoying other people’s company, right? Yet, when I recalled the dressed up women they surrounded themselves with, I thought better than to party, only to end up being made fun of for not only the boot, but the story that went along with my current state. It just seemed wiser to stay put. Besides, I had realized how much I loved to have someone to spend lazy weekends with. Those few days with Drew had showed me that. Speaking of which, he and I had been getting on fine. Gone were the days of spiteful retorts. We had become more … complacent toward each other. Not too warm, but complacent. We knew our limits when it was just the two of us, one of which was not to get too physical. And just like he had promised, he never brought anyone home.
It wasn’t due to the fact that he had become celibate—oh, yeah, he was still getting it on elsewhere. I had seen the hickeys, the scratches on his back, lipstick stains on his neck, and some even on his clothing. Based on those, there was no doubt that he had quite an appetite to satiate. Lucky women. Lucky him. Unlucky me.
I wasn’t getting any, zilch, bone dry. Eden’s once lush garden was no more. Mind you, that was half of my problem. The other dwelled more on his actions while my silently bleeding heart watched with a tired smile and swollen eyes.
That was why, on a warm Thursday night, right after class, instead of heading home, I had a cab drop me off at a bar half a block from the apartment. Yes, I was a nineteen-year-old who just happened to have a fake I.D. Well, in all technicalities, it wasn’t necessarily a fake. All the information was valid and active. Let’s just say my friend Joyce had an uncle who ran an illegal business.
The bar had a cozy vibe, laid back and casual, just like the patrons who were enjoying their drinks, chatting amongst their friends. Right from the get go, I already felt at home, as if I had been here several times.
There were a few glances headed my way as I trudged along, heading toward the bar.
“Jack and coke, please,” I ordered with relief the moment my butt was situated safely on the rounded red cushioned bar stool.
The guy flung a towel over his shoulder before giving me a quick onceover. “I.D. please,” he asked in a heavily accented tone that resonated like Spanish to me, but I could have been wrong.
“Of course,” I replied. shrugging before pulling out the card. “Here you go.”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips together, throwing me a quick glance before reverting his scrutinizing gaze back at the identification card, skeptical. “You don’t look like you’re twenty-two.”
“I know, right? It’s Botox. Works like a miracle.” Lies. Pure lies. However, this girl needed a damn drink, and I wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Desperate times. Desperate measures.
“Botox, huh?” He handed me back my card. “Smooth.”
“Thanks.” I beamed at him, unperturbed by his blatant reservation about my age.
The man proceeded to do his usual barman thing, pulling a glass from the neatly stacked pyramid pile, placing a few ice cubes, and pouring a shot of Jack in it before throwing me a pointed look. “Tough day?”
The guy was making small talk. I didn’t mind it. He was only doing his job, after all.
“Tough life. I’m sure you saw my buddies right here.” I waved towards the crutches.
After pouring the coke, he took a napkin and placed the drink atop it then leaned in closely so I alone could hear him. “I don’t believe your age, but you look like you need some cheering up.” He gave me an understanding smile before tapping the counter.
“Geez, how considerate of you. And yes, I need some fun. Life’s been shitty; that’s for sure,” I drawled then took a long sip of my drink, annihilating it before coming up for air. “The guy I’m in love with likes to mess with my head, but he doesn’t pull the trigger if you know what I mean.” Finishing whatever was left in my glass through the tiny black straw, I waved my finger to ask for another one. “What’s your name again? I don’t believe you mentioned it.”
“Manolo,” he stated in a Spanish drawl with emphasis on the vowels.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Chloe.” I tried to mimic the way he’d said his name but failed miserably. My unsuccessful attempt made him laugh, so I supposed he wasn’t offended.
Manolo had to excuse himself to tend to a new customer, but after he was done, he strolled back. “This guy you were talking about, why do you think he can’t pull the trigger?”
“I have theories.” I nodded before bottoming out my second drink. “But first, I need a new one please, Manny.” Flickering my lashes at him, I sweetly smiled.
He shook his head. “Girl, you’re going to have to crawl out of here.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Aye, if you say so.” He saluted before making me another.
Before he even placed the drink on the countertop, I began my story from the very beginning. Little, drunk me could get highly animated, so it wasn’t a wonder when Manolo became completely engrossed in my story and my company, always coming back after he took care of customers.
After an hour and a half, his friend who worked part-time, named Chuey, came to sit next to me while he waited until Manolo was off from work in an hour’s time. They were nice and good-looking, but it was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that they were gay. At one point, I even asked them if they were dating or on the verge of being a couple, but they immediately denied it, saying they were both dominant and simply didn’t mesh relationship wise, that they were better off as friends. They seemed very pragmatic about it, but I didn’t press since they were intrigued about Drew and his push and pull tactics.
I was so consumed by my story-telling that I lost count of how many glasses I’d had. Hence, when it was time for Manolo to leave with Chuey, the guys offered to take me back to my apartment. They did that by getting me inside a cab with some difficulty.
“For looking like two fit males, you guys can’t carry me worth shit. I’m not that heavy, am I?” I peeked at the two of them, who looked as though they didn’t know what to do with me, before I let out a loud, disgusting belch.
“Aye, that smells like mierda, Chloe.” Chuey furiously fanned himself before Manolo slid in the other si
de of the cab while I giggled like a total idiot.
“What’s the address to your apartment?” Manolo poked my arm, trying to get my attention.
It took me a moment to remember my new address here. When Chuey made fun of me for being so drunk, I actually laughed with him. There was something about these two that I liked. They were pretty easy to talk to, and I adored how they didn’t mind my quirkiness.
Since the bar was close to the apartment, it didn’t take long to reach my place. Manolo took care of the fare before they helped me out of the vehicle. With one guy on each side, they carried me into the building where we all waved toward the doorman before entering the elevator. Once we got to the eighth floor, I directed them to the right door number. Manolo pressed the buzzer while I knocked loudly, feeling reckless.
The second the door opened, a looming Drew with his quizzical brow took in my disheveled, drunken state then the two guys escorting me. I couldn’t blame him for seeming speechless.
“Boyfriend.” I announced with a grin. “Meet my boys, Manolo and Chuey.”
“We had to help her ’cause she’s too drunk to walk anywhere,” Manolo tried to ease Drew’s weighty stare, which was becoming more intimidating by the second. “Okay, so here she is, and good night to you both.” He handed Drew my crutches before quickly tapping my shoulder.
“Thank you, angels.” I blew them each a kiss.
“Bye, Chloe.” Chuey gave a small wave, as did Manolo, before they retraced their steps back to the elevator then disappeared altogether.
The place had quieted down, and based off that silence, Jackson wasn’t home.
“Where are you off to, hmmm?” My brow arched at him as my eyes inspected his dressed up state. He was wearing slacks. I had never seen him in a pair, and quite frankly, it irritated me that he looked sinfully delicious in anything. “Are you ignoring me again? ’Cause if you are, I need a warning. Oh, wait.” I made a tsk-tsk sound before my forefinger dug into his skin. “Someone’s dirty lipstick is on the side of your neck.” After rubbing a finger on his skin, I brought it toward my nose and took a quick sniff before studying it closely. “Hmm, walk of shame or orgasm?”
