by Holly Jaymes
“Because he looks hot,” I said.
“Ew.” Lily made a face. “He’s my brother.”
“He’s not my brother,” I said as he passed us, heading to the house. I craned my head to see if he was as hot going as he’d been coming. Yep. He had a strong back and hard ass.
“Stop ogling my brother. That’s disgusting.”
“Why?” I finally lost sight of him as he entered the house.
“Because. He’s my brother. You’re my friend. Don’t mess it all up by drooling over my brother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
So, I’d never said anything more. Of course, I hadn’t seen him again after that. He and Lily traveled with their mother all through their childhood, but when he turned eighteen, he told his mom he wasn’t traveling anymore. He wanted to live in one place. At the time, they were in London, where he’d lived since.
Like me, Lily and Pax had family money. While Lily modeled, making her own small fortune, my sense from her was that Pax played his guitar all day, sometimes making money from it, but mostly not.
I departed the plane, got my bag and made my way through customs. I pulled out my phone to find out where I should meet Lily.
“So, so, sorry. I’m stuck in Paris. Pax will meet you out front. I hope to be there tomorrow afternoon. Happy birthday!!!”
Darn. It wasn’t the first time Lily was late or had to reschedule, but I’d been looking forward to today.
I rolled my bag behind me as I headed out of the airport, hoping Pax looked similar enough that I’d recognize him.
“Vic.”
Ugh. I hated being called Vic. He knew it too. I turned to his voice, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but my words stalled in my throat. Good golly, did he look that hot four years ago? I didn’t think so.
He gave me a lopsided smile. “I thought you hated being called Vic.”
I cleared my throat. “Is that you, Pax?” I said, trying to fall into the sibling-like relationship we’d had before. “I hardly recognize you. You used to be cuter.”
He rolled his eyes and gave me a hug. Cripes, did he smell that good back then too?
“Happy birthday. It’s good to see you. Did Lily ring you?”
“Yes,” I smirked. “Ring? You’re speaking British now?”
He shrugged as he took my bag and led me to a waiting car. “When in Rome.”
“Or London.” I slid into the car’s back seat and he joined me, telling the driver the address of the flat his family owned, but he lived in.
“I know I’m not who you wanted to spend the day with, but I’m here. Lily said to show you the sights and take you drinking.”
All of a sudden, my disappointment at Lily being MIA wasn’t so bad. “You’re going to spend my birthday with me?”
“Well, unless you want to spend it alone, yes.”
I guessed he didn’t have a job. Then again, he didn’t need one. His mother, supermodel Madaline LeCoeur had money. So did Lily.
“We’d planned to go shopping,” I said.
He grimaced. Pax had never been one for shopping. Or sightseeing. Mostly he didn’t like crowds unless it involved music, and even then, he preferred small clubs. “I promised Lily I’d take care of you, so…shopping it is, I guess.”
I laughed. “Your life is so hard, Pax.”
“Don’t I know it. But there’s more to London than Harrods and Piccadilly Circus.” I wondered if he thought I was too shallow. I did like to shop and do girlie things, but that didn’t mean I was vapid. “We’ll drop your stuff off first. Do you want to nap or something? How’s the jetlag?” he asked me.
“Not bad. I flew from LA to New York, but I spent a couple of days there before coming here. I slept on the plane, so I feel pretty good.”
In the ride to the flat, I took in the sights from the car and realized that if I dragged Pax to all the outings that I’d planned to do with Lily, he’d be bored and Lily and I wouldn’t have anything to do tomorrow.
“Do you know all of the off-the-beaten-path things to do here?” I asked.
“I know a few.”
“Then let’s do that today.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “But it’s your birthday. We need to do what you want.”
“I want to see the off-the-beaten-path sights. Don’t disappoint me, Pax.”
“I always try not to.”
When we got to the flat, he showed me to the room I’d share with Lily when she arrived tomorrow afternoon. I took a shower and changed, and then was ready to greet the day.
“What’s first?” I asked Pax, his gaze wandering over my outfit of a summer dress, white jean-jacket and a fun hat. I wondered if he thought I looked immature or silly.
“How about food?”
My stomach growled. “Yes, food.” We had a full English breakfast and then set off to find all the great non-touristy sights in London. There were a lot, and each one we went to, I was gladder that I’d chosen this activity. Pax was normally an introvert but he was quite outgoing as he showed me around the city.
We saw everything from the Chelsea Physic Garden to the MI6 building I recognized from Bond movies. We had lunch at Pop Brixton. Pax seemed quite at home at the hipster shopping and eating area designed to support local businesses. As we sat and ate a lunch of fish and chips, of course, a song came on in the background. A smile spread on Pax’s face as he dunked his fish in vinegar.
“Did you get laid to this song or something?” I asked, sitting across from him.
He looked up “What?”
“You’re smiling like you’re having a good memory about this song.”
“And you think that good memory is getting laid?” He quirked a brow.
“You’re a guy. Good memories for guys involve getting laid.”
“Not always,” he quipped which made me wonder if he had a bad break-up recently. “No. I never fucked during this song.”
My insides flared to life as I realized I’d never heard him use the f-word before. It was quite titillating.
“So, what’s with the song?” I asked.
He leaned forward, like it was a secret. “I wrote it.”
“What?” He sat back. “You wrote this?” I tilted my head so I could hear it better. It was a catchy tune that seemed the perfect blend of indie rock and pop. And it was being sung by an artist I recognized. Not huge, like Beyoncé or Taylor Swift, but still well enough known. I turned to look back at him. “Why?”
“Why what?” he asked, looking offended.
“Why didn’t you just record it yourself?”
“Because I’m not a well-known artist. The producer wanted the song, not me.”
“You’d be well-known if you recorded it.” He looked at me like I’d given him a gift. “No joking, Pax. This song is wonderful. You shouldn’t give away-”
“I sold it. I get royalties.”
I laughed. “So, I’m hearing a great song, and you’re hearing cha-ching.”
He smiled in amusement. “Yes. Something like that.”
Later, we walked through a farmer’s market. I stopped by a vendor making and selling organic skincare.
“That’s probably better than the goop you peddle on your Instagram,” Pax quipped.
I glared at him, at the same time wondering if he often checked out my Instagram feed. “I’ll have you know I don’t peddle bad goop, I pointed out. ” He grinned. “But I do sometimes think it has too much unnecessary stuff in it. Don’t tell anyone, but often I make my own.”
He arched a brow. “You make your own goop?”
“All you need is stuff usually found around the house. Sugar. Coconut oil. Honey. Milk.”
“Why don’t you make it and sell it yourself instead of pushing other companies? You’d make more, wouldn’t you?”
I hadn’t really thought of it. “Except I’d have to have manufacturing and distribution and all that stuff.”
“So? It’s not like it can’t be done. And you
probably have the resources.”
I shrugged. “I guess I never thought about it.”
We continued on visiting the sky garden which had a breathtaking view of the city, the painted hall, and Waterloo Vaults, crisscrossing the city and its outer limits.
By the time the sun was setting, I felt like I’d lived a lifetime and seen a lifetime worth of sights. I was also realizing that there was more to Pax than a lopsided smile and a guitar. He was exactly the type of guy I’d set my sights on at home, but the memory of Lily’s response to my interest in him kept me in check.
“What’s next?” I asked as we finished admiring the colorful graffiti tunnel of the Waterloo Vaults.
“Well, it is your twenty-first birthday.”
“Clowns and balloons?”
He smirked. “How about a secret bar?”
“Ooh, yes.”
We took a car and arrived at a normal-looking fish and chips place.
“This doesn’t look like a secret bar.” I tried not to sound too disappointed. The rest of the day had been perfect.
“Ah, patience, my birthday girl.” He held the door open for me.
We walked to the counter where a young man stood to take orders.
“We’re here to see the prince.” Pax said.
The guy at the counter smiled. “Come with me.”
We followed him back down a hall and into a room with a gargantuan freezer. He pulled the handle but instead of a freezer interior, it was the door to stairs leading down.
“Oh my gosh,” I said as we walked into the freezer and down the stairs. “I’ve been to something like this in New York.”
“New York isn’t the only place for cool, hip spots,” Pax said. “It just thinks it is.”
“I thought that was Paris,” I quipped.
“That too.” Pax found us a table, and we ordered drinks.
I sat back and smiled, feeling quite content and happy. “This is a great birthday.”
“I’m glad. I know you’d have preferred to be with Lily.”
I looked at him. “I don’t know. This has been really fun. Thank you, Pax.”
Our drinks arrived and we clinked our glasses. “Happy birthday, Victoria.”
“Is this the kind of thing you do with your girlfriends?” I asked. I knew it was dumb. I couldn’t be with him without risking my friendship with Lily, but I had to know if he was taken.
He shrugged. “I’ve been on a couple dates to the gardens around town and of course some clubs.”
“Will she be mad you’re with me?”
“Who?” he asked.
“Your current squeeze.”
He shook his head. “There’s no squeeze. How about you? Is your boyfriend annoyed you’re spending your birthday abroad?”
“No boyfriend. Not since he decided to screw someone else.”
Pax winced. “Sorry.”
“I’m not. It was well past its overdue date.”
“So not true love, huh?”
“No.” I took another sip. “Do you believe in that? True love? That song you sold did.”
“I don’t know. My parents love each other still, but haven’t been married for over a decade.”
I knew of his and Lily’s parents. Their mother was a supermodel, while their father was a small-town regular guy working law enforcement. In fact, I thought she said he’d recently gotten the sheriff’s position in the mountain resort town of Eden Lake, east of San Bernardino.
“My parents are still together. But I don’t see passion in them. Do you suppose that goes away?” I asked Pax.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve ever really been in love.”
I finished my drink and he ordered more. “That’s sad.”
“So, you’ve been in love?”
I laughed at myself. “I think so. I mean, I’ve had strong feelings for someone-”
“That’s lust,” he quipped.
“Maybe.”
We continued to drink and talk, and it was really nice. At one point he ordered me a drink with whipped cream on it and sang me happy birthday. He really did have a wonderful voice. Whoever bought his song was missing out on a big star by not signing him.
“You have whipped cream on your mouth,” he said.
I tried to wipe it.
“Other side.” He leaned over toward me. He put his thumb on my lower lip and drew it across, making every neuron in my body fire up. I’d gone from languid with booze to feeling like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket.
My gaze snapped to his, as the world spun away and there was just him and crazy electric energy snapping between us. His eyes caught mine, and in his blue, nearly violet eyes, I saw the same surprise as I felt. We just sat there for the longest time, until I was chanting in my head for him to either kiss me or disengage. No, kiss me. That’s what I want.
He brought his thumb to his own mouth and sucked the cream he’d wiped from mine. It was quite possible that I found it so erotic, I orgasmed from that alone. I worried he’d back away so I dipped my finger in the whipped cream and wiped it on my lips.
He let out a heavy breath as his gaze moved from my eyes to my mouth. “You’ve got whipped cream on your mouth.” His voice was thready, or maybe my ears weren’t working right.
“Oops,” I managed.
His gaze moved back to my eyes and again, the weight of erotic energy hung between us.
“Lily is going to kill me,” he said.
“Why?”
He answered by capturing my mouth with his, and licking the whipped cream from my lips. I moaned and opened my mouth, inviting him in. I gripped his t-shirt, holding him to me in case he changed his mind.
We kissed and kissed and I was in heaven, even though I couldn’t breathe.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. “We should walk.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I nodded. He took my hand, a good sign, and led me out. We walked several blocks until we hit a canal.
“This is Little Venice,” he said, as if he was playing tour guide again.
The canal with colorful boats was lovely and romantic. I took a few deep breaths to push away my wish for more kisses from Pax and instead refocused on the beautiful area of the city. We walked without talking, and as we did, the fuzziness of the drinking began to dissipate. I wondered if that was what had happened. He’d been drinking too and kissed me because his inhibitions were lowered.
Finally, we got a car and headed back to his flat. I followed him inside.
He shut the door and then looked at me. Slowly, the snap, crackle, pop that had charged between us at the bar began to hum again.
“I’m not drunk,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“I still want to kiss you.”
Inside, an inferno blasted. “I still want you to kiss me.”
“Lily-”
“She’s not here,” I said. “And it’s still my birthday.”
His lips twitched up. “She told me to give you whatever you wanted.”
I smiled and stepped to him. “Well, then. I want you.”
It was wrong. Lily had already told me to stay away from her brother. But it was my birthday. She wasn’t here. His kisses suggested he knew what to do to make a woman feel good. How could I say no? Besides, what she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her or us, right?
The minute his hands were on me, there was a flurry of activity. Clothes coming undone and dropping to the floor. Our bodies ping-ponging into walls and furniture, until I was horizontal on a couch. I was burning from the inside out, arching, reaching, needing him like I needed my next breath.
“Fuck…” he groaned as he tore away from me.
“Don’t stop.” God, I’d die if he changed his mind.
“Condom.”
“Right. Good thinking.” Holy crap. I’d have gone without. That would have been a disaster. Lily would have skinned me alive. Not just for getting pregnant by her brother, but for having unpro
tected sex. One thing we’d never understood was how a woman could be so consumed that she would forget to protect herself. Now, I knew better. Thank goodness, Pax was more responsible.
As he grappled to open the condom packet, I took the opportunity to study him. Yum. That was what summed him up. Sculpted pecs. Hard abs. And his dick. Long. Thick. It stood straight up, and I felt so feminine from the fact that I’d turned him on like that.
He rolled the condom on and in the next instant, he was over me. “Tell me you’re ready, Victoria, because I can’t fucking wait.” His fingers slid between my folds and he groaned again. “You’re so wet.”
“Now, Pax, now.” I couldn’t breathe for want of him.
He hooked an arm under my thigh, opening me up to him, and then he pushed and oh my God…it was amazing. Every long thick inch of him slid along my sensitive walls. Immediately they contracted, pulling him inside me deeper.
“Jesus,” he gasped. He levered onto his hands, and began to move. Once and twice slowly, but I gripped his ass and forced him to move faster, faster, because I was already there.
It was crazed and wild, and yet, we were in glorious sync as we chased the ultimate bliss. He thrust in, ground against me, hitting the perfect spots inside me and out. I cried out as the first wave of pleasure blasted through me.
“Yes! Fuck yes…” he said as he plunged again, his own release consuming him. We moved, riding out the storm, until he collapsed on me.
Our breaths finally returned to normal, and I hoped to hell he wouldn’t withdraw and regret this. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
He lifted his head. “Are you okay?”
I smiled. “I’m… That was amazing.”
He grinned. “Happy birthday.”
I laughed. Something changed in that moment. Something sweet and more than just a hookup. At least for me.
We cuddled and then he got up to get us some water. I wrapped a blanket around myself and when he returned, I drank the water and asked him to play his guitar. He played the song that was on the radio, and then a few others he was trying to sell. Then he just improvised.
“That’s pretty,” I said as he played a soft lovely tune.
“It’s Victoria’s Song.”
“What?” My heart did cartwheels in my chest.
“Since you’re the muse that had me creating it in this moment, it’s named after you.”
