My Side (A Thin Ice Novel)

by Tara Brown

  He leaned forward. “Can’t keep it in your pants, princess?”

  “Oh, I can.” I sipped my lemonade.

  He grinned. “Wanna make a wager on it?”

  My gaze narrowed. “What kind?”

  “The kind where whoever gives in to the obvious attraction between us moves out.”

  I laughed. “Done. Deal. Sold. You want to start packing now or wait till it’s light out?”

  He chuckled, taking the last of the beer in a huge gulp. “You underestimate me.”

  “I’m a grad student in law school. I have a 4.0 GPA and have only ever dated three guys in my life. I don’t drink much, never do drugs, don’t smoke, and eat clean, except when celebrities buy me lunch.” I leaned toward him, drank the last of my lemonade and passed him the bottle to put on the desk. “I am the queen of self-control.”

  He swung his leg off the chair, moving fluidly to the floor and knelt in front of my bed. He grabbed my calves, dragging me down the bed so he was between my thighs. His eyes bore down on me as he licked his lips. He leaned forward like he might kiss me and whispered. “But the thing you’re forgetting is that I can have any girl I want, any time I want, any place I want. You, on the other hand, will be getting arthritis in your right hand from all the daydreaming you’re gonna do about me while reading your books.” He winked and released me. I didn’t even realize my hands were digging into his round shoulders, instead of pushing him away. He laughed and left the room, again rising in a fluid motion.

  I swallowed and made the weird sound again. “Wait.”

  He popped back into the doorway. “Yes?”

  “The deal needs to be stricter then. No sex for either of us . . . with anyone.”

  He looked down on me. “Including the Brothers of County Claire?”

  I nodded.

  He put a massive hand out. I hesitantly took it. My stomach ached from the thought of touching him. The air was too heavy. His body was too naked and mine was too horny.

  He shook both our hands and then just stayed there like that, holding my hand.

  “No sex, no masturbation, and no getting someone else to give you an orgasm?” he asked.

  I frowned. “Ewww.”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t the amused one from earlier. It was tense like he might lie down on top of me any second. I hoped he would. I would get the nearly pulsating orgasm that was sitting there about to happen from his touch. I honestly was probably about ten strokes away with my vibrator. I smiled imagining it. I would cum and he would get the boot for making the first move.

  He looked like he was struggling with something and then let go of my hand. He pointed at me. “It’s on.”

  I nodded. “Great.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  “Excellent.”

  All I could do was pray that Tom and Leslie came up with something before school started Monday. I didn’t need a distraction of this size.

  Chapter Four

  Kiss my Brazilian butt

  I was curled up in the living room with Jane Austen’s Persuasion. Nothing cured my inability to control myself like Austen, except suddenly I was seeing so much more sexual tension than I ever had. I wasn’t sure if it was really there, or if I was so strung out that I was putting it in the story.

  “Reading again?”

  I glanced up at him as he stalked into the room in body-hugging jeans and a tight tee shirt.

  He sat with his legs wide. “Gerry said you’re coming tonight.”

  I nodded. “Yup. Where am I going?”

  He passed me a business card, stroking his fingers down mine as he passed it to me.

  I laughed, mostly from bad nerves. “You’re an idiot.”

  He shrugged. “You want me.” I walked into the kitchen to get something cold. I was contemplating getting some ice to stick down my panties, when I felt him behind me. He stood too close when I opened the fridge. He bent his face into my nape, taking a long breath. “You smell like your run,” he muttered against my skin.

  I couldn’t tell you what was in the fridge or if I was holding anything. I took a breath and closed my eyes. “This constitutes hitting on me.”

  He licked up my neck, sending shivers everywhere. “You taste like your run.”

  I shook my head. “You are going to lose if you touch me.”

  He whispered. “We never said a single thing about touching. We said keeping our pants on. No ‘flesh-to-flesh contact’ is what I understood it to be. Over the clothes is perfectly acceptable.”

  I laughed and spun, looking up into his face. “So you want to play the ‘who can be sexier’ game with me?”

  “Yup.”

  I frowned. “You’re going to lose. I’m a girl.”

  He cocked his head. “You think women are sexier than men?”

  Sarcasm filled my voice. “Uhhh, yeah. Way sexier.”

  “Bring your A game tonight.” He bent, kissing my cheek softly.

  I had felt his erection brushing against my ass cheek, so I did the boldest thing I could and lied to myself that it was all in the pursuit of an apartment. I slid my hand down the bulge in his pants.

  His jaw dropped. I stroked faster, rubbing the biggest erection I had ever felt and tilted my head. He made a growling noise. I waggled my eyebrows at him. “The sad thing is, I don’t even have to try to be sexy. You guys are just so easy.” I gave him the wink he was always giving me and walked past him. My heart was beating and I felt like throwing up, but I maintained my cool.

  “You’re gonna pay for that one, princess.” He turned and left.

  I desperately prayed I would as I grabbed some ice to stuff in my drawers.

  I wanted to curl back up with my book. Instead, I showered and let my white-blonde hair go into its natural curls. I bounced them, inspecting each one. They were wide and round. I had coated my hair with aloe so I prayed it would stay frizz-free. I did my makeup far heavier than normal, not that I’d worn it since I’d arrived. It had been too damned humid. I pulled on a black push-up bra and a pale-yellow tank top. My jean shorts were tight, showing my firm, runner’s ass off. It curved perfectly. They were the ones I was going to toss out because they didn’t fit anymore. Well, they fit tonight. I looked slutty but still not too trashy. This was as far as I went into the realm of slut wear. My clothes were always the same. Winter was sweaters and jeans and summers were shorts and tee shirts. I didn’t do anything but respectable and casual. I knew that as a lawyer, I would have to use my female wiles. Thankfully, I wasn’t a lawyer yet. I didn’t even know where my wiles were.

  I gave myself a once over and slipped on some sandals. I grinned at my mace cock and put my forty dollars in the other pocket with my cell. I sent Gerry a message that I would be there in fifteen. It was only five blocks to the bar. The night was warm and alive. A few girls were walking in the same direction as me. Naturally we grouped up. One of them smiled. “Hey, you going to the Thin Ice show?”

  I nodded.

  She beamed. “We are, too.”

  I wasn’t one of the popular girls in school. Being a pretty girl earned me tolerance. The mean girls accepted me into the parties when they had to, but my people were the Star Trek nerds. I ran home every day to watch it. Danny made fun of me for it until he watched Doctor Who and decided science fiction was cool.

  I smiled as I walked, thinking about Danny. I pulled my phone out and messaged him. He’d hardly messaged me since I’d arrived.

  He was the popular one. Being Danny’s little sister afforded me far more tolerance than my looks.

  When we arrived at the bar, the girl who had spoken to me waved as she went in. “Enjoy the show.”

  I waved back. “You too.”

  The bar was huge and open. The stage was actually kind of big, in comparison to the lame stage I imagined it would be. Gerry waved at me from the bar. I lit up instantly and walked over.

  He plucked a curl. “I told you.”

  I fingered a different
curl. “It’s awesome. They feel so silky still.”

  He pointed to me and shouted at the bartender. “She drinks all night on our tab.”

  I waved my hands in protest. “No, I can buy my own.”

  A body pressed me into the bar from behind. “She drinks on us. She likes cranberry lemonade and red wine.”

  The bartender looked at me expectantly. I sighed. “Red wine, please.”

  He spoke quickly. “Shiraz is the house.”

  “Perfect, thanks.” I looked back at Lochlan. “You think getting me drunk will help you win?”

  He winked at me. “Nice bra.”

  Gerry pointed at us. “You too are a ticking time bomb.”

  I smiled. “You will tell me if he welches on this, right?”

  Gerry put his hands up. “Keep me out of it.” He turned and left.

  Lochlan scoffed. “Says the guy who told me we should hook up.”

  I pushed back, getting him off of me, and spun around. I took my glass of red wine and leaned against the bar. I noticed it right away. The eyes were on me. The people were watching the girl with Lochlan Barlow. “You’re like Elvis to these people.”

  He ignored my comment and put his hands on the bar on either side of me. “Who told you curly hair was my weakness?”

  I laughed. “Oh my God, you have to do better than that.”

  He bit his lip but kept my gaze. “You want me to start trying? I do owe you that after the whole kitchen thing.”

  I shook my head, sipping the wine. It was surprisingly good.

  His eyes turned funny again. “We could just live in the apartment . . . together.”

  I knew he was messing with me, going for the low blow. Guys think that commitment is girl bait for sure. I blinked up at him. “As screw buddies?”

  He coughed and took my wine. He took a big drink and passed it back. “That’s disgusting. How can you drink that?”

  I looked down into the glass distastefully. “I can’t now.”

  He gave me a deadly stare. “No, not as fuck buddies, and I told you, I don’t have hep C. Jesus. I’m more careful than that. I have never gone bare back, I will have you know.”

  I laughed, mostly to hide my disturbed expression. “All you famous types say that, and then all of a sudden, Pamela Anderson is like OMG I have it too. It can’t be from Tommy—no, he would never.”

  He snorted. “You think you know so much about me.”

  My gaze narrowed. “I know enough, man whore.”

  He bent, kissing my cheek again. “You don’t know shit.” He pushed off the bar and walked away from me.

  Every girl in the bar instantly hated me.

  “Great.” I walked away and leaned against the wall in a dark corner. My glass wasn’t even empty, when a new glass was placed in my hand. I noticed a bouncer eyeballing me from the side of the wall where I was. I frowned at him, but he maintained his stern look. His eyes darted around me. He looked like he might walk over to me, but stopped when a girl poked me in the arm. “You could have said you were dating him. We wouldn’t have cared.”

  I looked up to see one of the girls I had walked there with. “Hey. I’m not dating him. He’s my roomie. It’s complicated.”

  The pretty brunette put a hand out. “Lise. This is Jenny and this is Monica.”

  I gave a subtle wave. “Hi.”

  The tall blonde, Monica, pointed to a table. “That’s our table. Wanna come sit?”

  I nodded. “Sure,” and followed them over to sit.

  Lise giggled. “Looked like you were dating.”

  I put my wine to my lips and sighed. “No. It’s so much worse. He’s him, ya know? He’s the lead singer.”

  Her eyes looked sad. “That sucks. Do you really like him?”

  A frown crossed my lips and turned to a pout before I could even negotiate my feelings. “No.”

  Her light-brown eyes glistened. “You do. I can tell. If it makes you feel better, every girl likes him. He’s here with every girl.” She looked around.

  I followed her gaze and saw it. He really was. Every girl was waiting for that moment when the band took the stage. That made me feel dirty and my outfit didn’t help.

  “What kind of music is it?” I asked.

  The other girls laughed. “You don’t know? You never heard him sing before?”

  I shook my head. How had I not even Googled him? It was because I thought it was a joke. I thought he was a joke.

  The blonde raised her eyebrows. “You’re in for a show.”

  We sat and waited. They talked and I people watched. I knew I was awkward with them. I didn’t care though. I was stunned by the fact that he was someone, not just my annoying roommate.

  The lights dimmed even more than they already were and the stage lights came on. The band walked out together. He searched the crowd until he came to my face at the table. He winked and gave me his one-sided grin. I didn’t even know the crowd had erupted into something equaling complete chaos. All I saw was him. He seemed uneasy until he positioned the guitar in his hands. He strummed a few soft notes before he opened his mouth.

  Then something magnificent happened.

  His voice was soft, not what I expected from him. He started to move his hips, and my eyes followed. It started soft and then picked up. I came out of my Lochlan haze and noticed Gerry hitting the drums, and the other guys playing their hearts out. It was madness, but glorious. The song was exactly as he’d said, it was indie and fun. People were dancing and swaying to the song with him. His eyes were closed in the chorus as he swung the guitar onto his back and grabbed the microphone. He moved like he was against another person, with his hands sliding up and down her body.

  The crowd was going nuts.

  His eyes popped open. He eye-fucked every person in the crowd but me. It was like he avoided me on purpose.

  I drank back my wine, watching him swinging. His voice was beautiful, raspy, and soft but able to hit the high notes. He was the whole package.

  Tight tee shirt with tattoos sticking out the bottoms of his sleeves. Tight jeans with black boots and a cocky, southern swagger. He didn’t have the country sound though. He was a mix between pop and indie. He was amazing. They all were.

  My glass was taken and another delivered. I barely registered it.

  The song ended. I swallowed. His eyes caught mine and I was frozen.

  He gave me a look. The other guys started up. Sweat was cresting every brow—the band’s . . . the crowd’s . . . mine. His mouth moved, and I could swear every word was for me.

  It was the strangest feeling ever.

  He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair and started to move faster in the buildup. When the chorus broke, he came alive. My heart had never pounded so hard in my chest. The server was back suddenly. She took my glass and passed me another. My head spun when I saw the glass on the tray was empty.

  The next song was really upbeat. It was a dance song. His voice went high and everyone exploded on the dance floor.

  He danced like I never would have imagined him capable. I knew nothing. That was clear. Shit, he was right again.

  I finished my glass, watching him use the entire stage, pointing out at the crowd, working each of us. He was every woman’s fantasy. He had it. He had the moves, the confidence, and the voice. The band was as devoted as he was. They pumped out the song with him.

  Everyone in the crowd moved like a sea, rocking to the beat. He was the wind controlling the waves.

  I truly felt like an idiot. I drank the last of my glass and knew I was done.

  He had won.

  The lights dimmed, making a sickening fear in my stomach that they were done, but it was worse. A chair was brought out under the single remaining light, center stage.

  He drank from a glass of beer and cleared his throat, as he sat on the stool with his guitar.

  “Uh . . . I just want to thank you all for coming out. This has been an awesome couple weeks for us here. I’ve been a solo act for a
long time, and I just feel really welcomed into the band. So cheers to my new brothers.” The crowd cheered as he drank a gulp and then held the glass up to the crowd. “Cheers to y’all out there in the crowd, because Boston has made me feel welcomed too.” The crowd went wild again as he drank again.

  He held his glass out a final time. “Cheers to my princess from North Dakota.”

  The crowd erupted. They didn’t know why they were cheering. They just ate him up.

  I, however, knew.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t feel anything but my pounding heart.

  “Bastard,” I whispered to myself.

  He’d upped the ante—hard.

  The crowd died down and he started to play.

  His fingers moved so fast my blurry vision couldn’t keep up. When his voice broke out over top of the guitar, everyone went nuts. The crowd started singing with him. They knew the song. I’d never heard it before. He started stomping his boot on the stage as he played and sang.

  It was like I’d never seen him. The song wasn’t fast, and yet, the crowd moved with him. His boot stomp and his odd shout here and there moved them. Arms went into the air as they shouted the high notes with him. It sounded like a drinking song of sorts.

  The band came in behind him at the halfway point. The boot stomping got loud and the shouts took over. Gerry played a weird-looking drum with his hands.

  Each member was covered in sweat and passion. I could taste it in the air.

  I got up and left the bar. The boot stomp and the shouts followed me the entire way from the bar and onto the street.

  My eyes blurred. I’d drunk too much wine. I needed home.

  I picked up my pace. I was near home when my phone rang. I pulled it out, seeing a weird number. I answered, wondering if it was Danny.

  “Hello?”

  “Where the hell are you?” It was Lochlan, screaming from the bar.

  I walked faster. “I drank too much. I’m going home.”

  “What the fuck? Don’t leave.” It was the second time he’s said that to me.

  I laughed. “I have to.”

  “Why?”