“A pretty girl like you shouldn't stay quiet. Let your heart speak.” Weston’s voice sang to me, his voice smooth and beautiful. This was another reason why I could never be with a musician. Music was a part of me, my happy place. In an argument, all he’d have to do was sing and all would be forgotten. Forgiven. You’d think that would be a good thing, right? Unless I was trying to prove a point.
“Now you're just showing off.”
“It's my birthday and I can sing if I want to,” Weston joked as he turned his car into Rinse’s parking lot.
My eyebrows pressed together. “I thought your birthday was tomorrow.”
“It is.”
“Hmm…” Our birthdays were only two days apart. Why hadn’t I realized that before now? We were both Capricorns, stubborn and sensitive. A deadly combination.
“What's the hmm for?”
“Nothing.” I smiled before I opened my door for the valet attendant.
Weston met me at the back of the car and extended his arm. I didn't know if it was because I was nervous that I’d be rejected for being underage, or if it was because I was in the arms of Weston, but the butterflies in my stomach wouldn't stop flapping their wings.
I handed my underage driver’s license to the bouncer and prayed I didn't get denied. He shined his flashlight over my license and then looked back at me.
This was it.
“Happy Birthday.” The bouncer handed back my license. “A night early, but I’ll let it slide.” He winked. I retrieved my ID and shoved it back in my clutch.
“Birthday?” Weston asked.
“On the fourteenth.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” I smiled and nodded.
“What are we doing to celebrate?” He held the elevator door open for the people behind us.
My heart fluttered. He said we. “I don’t have any plans yet.” I stood behind him as the elevator crowded with people.
“I’ve got you.” He looked back and winked.
The elevator doors closed, and I leaned forward, inhaling Weston’s scent. Through the mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his scent was mesmerizing and consuming. I closed my eyes until we reached the top. Once inside, Weston led me to the group sitting in the VIP section. The place was packed and the music rocked. The rooftop bar had a closed area for dancing and the open area was sectioned off with fire pits and long drapes to keep it private.
I kept a death grip on Weston’s hand as he guided me through the mob and toward the secluded area filled with couches. A bouncer pulled back the velvet robes as we approached. Everyone circled Weston to wish him a happy birthday—including a few girls I had seen hanging on his arm at one time or another. I squeezed between the fake breasts and hot bodies and walked over to the couch where Leslie and Sally sat.
“What are you drinking?” Leslie shouted. She lifted up a bottle of vodka and another of rum.
“Rum and Coke.”
Though it was crowded and the music blared, the white drapes around the VIP section made it possible to hear each other speak. I sat with my back to Weston; I didn’t want him to think he owed me anything by bringing me here.
Leslie handed me my glass and I took a sip. I flipped my hair off my shoulder as an excuse to look back at Weston. Big mistake. His arms were draped over his female entourage as he posed for a picture.
I turned away to hide my jealousy and was greeted with Leslie’s puckered lips and raised eyebrows. “You like him,” she mouthed.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mouthed back. The last thing I needed was for Sally or Axel to know. It was bad enough Leslie wouldn't drop the topic until I told her everything. I chugged the rest of my drink and moved over to the bottle of Moet.
My feet throbbed from dancing. Standing in our VIP section with the champagne bottle in hand, I swayed with the bass and ignored the fact that I hadn’t seen Weston since we passed through the velvet ropes. I was bitter, disappointed and pissed for letting myself think that someone like Weston, a freaking musician, would stay by my side all night. I danced out my anger; the liquor only added to my hazy mind.
I closed my eyes and swung my hips. A firm pair of hands wrapped around my waist like a glove. “You shouldn’t dance like that unless I’m behind you.”
I twirled to face him, our bodies flush. “I figured you were busy.”
“I was, but now I’m where I want to be.” His eyes were glued to my lips.
I brought the bottle of warm champagne to my lips and took a swig. “Are you having a good birthday?”
“I am now.” He wrapped his hands around my lower back and began to dance.
Weston didn’t leave me, even when Axel, Harry, and a couple of other guys sauntered over and handed him shots. But after an hour of our bodies grinding against one another, I could tell Weston had hit his wall. His movements were sluggish and his eyelids looked heavy. The boys handed him his last shot and I knew he wouldn't be driving us home.
“I don’t drink,” he slurred.
I laughed. “Give me your keys.”
Weston buried his limp hand in his back pocket and yanked out his car keys. “I’m one lucky bastard. The hot chick at the bar is taking me home.”
“I’m not taking you home—a cab is—but I wanted to make sure you didn’t drive.”
The lights flickered on and the music turned off for last call as Axel and Harry helped Weston out of Rinse and toward the cabbie line. I handed Axel Weston’s keys before I hopped in a cab with Leslie. My head rested on the leather seat and I gazed out the window. My mind drifted to Weston’s hands on my body. I wished we had gotten more time together.
I looked in the mirror.
Another year older, another milestone reached.
Today was the anniversary of my father’s death, but for once I wouldn’t remember that day. I would let my hair down and let it be about me.
That morning, Leslie had attempted to bake me a cake. After making a complete mess of our kitchen, she shipped me off to get ready. She said that since I’d refused plan anything, she’d taken matters into her own hands. My hair had been blown out for the occasion, my makeup done to perfection by Sally, but I still had no clue where we were going. The only hint I had from Leslie was to wear my most comfortable shoes because we would be dancing.
Leslie wore a tight blue dress paired with killer high nude pumps that made her five inches taller than me. Based on her outfit I dressed in a charcoal lace dress with my all-time favorite shoes.
The doorbell of our miniscule apartment rang. Peeking my head out of my bedroom, I noticed Axel, Pete, and Harry had arrived, followed by Monica and Kate. I gave myself another once over in the mirror and stepped out of my room. Weston had said we were going to celebrate, but I hadn’t heard from him.
“Happy Birthday!” Axel shouted, and popped the top off the bottle of champagne he had in his hand. Leslie and I didn’t own flutes, so we distributed red solo cups.
“Thanks for coming out with us tonight, guys,” I said before I took a sip of the bubbly. The fizz tickled my nose. I wished Weston was there. Pushing him out of my head, I faced Leslie. “Where are we going?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan it. I was simply the messenger.”
Her expression was puzzled. I opened my mouth to speak, but Axel interrupted in a thick British accent. “Drink up because our chariot awaits.”
We filed out of our apartment, our solo cups in our hands. A stretched limo was parked at the curb. I turned to Leslie. “A limo?”
“Yep, it was Weston who set everything up,” she said with a huge smile on her face.
I looked around for him or his car. Nothing. Maybe he had other plans and would meet us wherever we were going. One could only hope. I shook my head at my thoughts. I was such a glutton for punishment.
“Come on, Emmy.” Axel held the limo door open. “You need to climb in first since you’re our guest of honor.”
Holding Axel’s hand, I lifted myself into the ba
ck of my limo. My pin straight hair shielded my face, but through the strands I noticed a pair of men’s shoes. I whipped my head up. Weston was sitting at the end of the couches behind the driver’s privacy window. Shocked, I hit my head on the ceiling. “Ouch!” I rubbed my head.
“Happy Birthday.” He leaned forward and reached for my hand.
“You could’ve warned me you were in here.”
“And what fun would that be?” He guided me to the seat next to him. “You okay?” He brought his palms to my head where I had been rubbing. “No dents, you’re okay.” He winked.
My breath caught in my throat. “Yeah,” I whispered.
Weston leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” His voice was like a magic formula, soothing my rapid heartbeat. Lost in Weston’s stormy gray eyes, I had forgotten about everyone else.
“Do we have to separate you two already?” Axel shouted.
Weston balled up a paper napkin and tossed it at him. The limo began to move, and Leslie took out her camera. “We need to document the night.”
She angled the camera at me and I smiled. Before she hit the button, Weston wrapped his arms around my body and kissed my cheek. I giggled as the flash flickered. Leslie handed Weston the camera and tugged on my arm, pulling me towards her so Weston could snap a picture of us. Weston turned the camera around and held it in front of him. “Say legal drinking age!”
I laughed and rested my head on his shoulder. Weston snapped the final picture and handed the camera back to Leslie. Weston looked at his watch and pulled a bottle from the cooler. “You’re officially twenty-one … almost.”
He held up a bottle of champagne. Monica passed the glass flutes. With our glasses filled with Perrier Jouet, we all counted down until the clock struck midnight. It was the best way to ring in my birthday.
The limo pulled up to Duvet. I had never been inside the nightclub, but I knew where we were by the massive line that wrapped around it and the paparazzi that waited on the curb. The cover to get in was absurd, and the cost for a drink made you want to sip it from the narrowest straw possible.
Axel pushed the door open without waiting for the driver to come around. “We’re partying like fucking kings!” he shouted to the crowd.
We all filed out of the limo. Weston was the last one out, and I watched as he slid money into the driver's hand. Weston’s eyes met mine and I was greeted with the most delectable smile. I bit the inside of my cheeks to contain my excitement. We would be in line for hours, but at least I would be with him.
“You ready?” He extended his hand.
“Yep, but it looks like a far walk to the back of the line. Maybe the limo should have dropped us off down there.” I gazed down the endless line of bodies that stood next to the white cement wall that separated the normal from the elites.
“Back of the line?” Axel shouted excitedly. “Didn’t I say we’re partying like kings?” He looked over at the paparazzi, who had not even glanced in our direction. “Remember this face! One day it will make millions! Elephant Room—remember that name!”
I giggled at his drunkenness. My hand was still coiled with Weston’s. He pulled me towards him, and the rest of the group followed. When we moved towards the massive security guards and not to the back of the line as I’d expected, I peered up at him.
A devilish grin appeared on his face and he winked at me. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” His voice sounded silky as if he were singing it to me. Though it was a chilly night in January, I felt the heat flush over my skin.
We walked into Duvet like we owned the place. Weston gave his name at the door and the red velvet rope was pulled back to let us in.
Duvet was one of the most elegant clubs I had ever been inside. A round glass bar occupied the middle of the floor; blue track lighting ran under the bar. We headed up the stairs. The DJ booth was on the second floor, and California king-sized beds lined the walls, each draped with white goose feather duvets and matching pillows. White canopy curtains provided privacy between each bed.
A hostess handed Weston a menu and he looked it over before whispering something in her ear.
“How the hell does he have this pull?” I whispered to Leslie.
She leaned in so I could hear her. “He’s clearly as smitten about you as you are for him. I mean, look around, my dear friend, he didn't even do this for his own birthday.” She pulled away, placed her hands on my shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “Emilia, put your fears aside and let this ride.” Leslie knew my hesitance about letting myself fall for a guy like Weston. Being with him went against everything I ever believed in about love. It couldn’t happen for me.
“Ready?” Weston asked. I nodded.
Weston had reserved two beds and a couple of bottles of liquor for our group. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me into him. “Happy?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I bit my lower lip to contain my excitement. He smiled and grabbed a bottle from the stainless steel cooler and handed it to Leslie, who poured me a drink.
“How did you pull this off?” I asked.
Weston twirled me around and coiled his arms around my body. His chin rested on my shoulder. “You see the deejay?” He pointed to the upstairs booth that looked as if it had been built into the wall. “He was my roommate in college. I called in a favor.”
I turned back to face him. His hands were still glued to my waist. “Thank you.” Standing high on my tippy toes, I placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
The sweet moment was short lived when Leslie tapped my shoulder to give me my first shot of the night. Weston walked over to where the guys were sitting and drinking. My cheeks hurt from the grin plastered on my face. This was turning out to be the best birthday I’d ever had.
Monica and Leslie walked over with a round of shots. Three shots later and I was beginning to feel the buzz. Sipping my drink slowly, I danced in place. Weston came up behind me. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. My voice was trapped with emotion. I turned toward him; his black blazer had been discarded and I could see the way his arms fit into his gray button down. “Thank you for tonight.”
“Wanna dance?” He grasped my hand.
Placing my glass on a table near the bed, I let him lead me down the few steps. Weston didn't stop at the dance floor like I thought he would. Instead, he took me through the crowd and around the bar to a quieter corner where thick white drapes hung from the ceiling and made it feel as though we weren't in a crowded nightclub.
He twirled me so my back was against the felt-like material covering the wall. His body towered over mine like a skyscraper as the bass of the song hummed around us. He captivated me.
I wanted him.
I wanted to kiss him.
“Dance with me.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and smiled. Weston slid his tongue across his upper lip. His hips claimed the space between my legs, but we didn't move to the beat of the music; we moved to the rhythm of our heartbeats. Each movement caused my body temperature to rise, and the wall of steel that I had built to keep him out burned with the heat. I wanted his lips on mine more than I wanted my next breath. It was as though he was the oxygen my lungs desperately needed.
Weston’s hands dropped from my waist and moved down to my hips. His fingertips grazed past the hem of my dress, making my skin ignite. My breath caught in my lungs at his soft touch. He repeated it again but this time his finger moved in swirls as if he was scribbling something. Lost in his touch, I rested my hands on his chest. His lips brushed my hair as he began to sing with the music that played in the background. His voice, his touch, became too hard to bear. All I had to do was move my head to the right and our lips would meet.
“You smell like heaven,” he growled, his body pressing my back against the wall. I felt his erection straining against me. “You’re driving me insane, Emilia. It’s becoming really hard to be a gentleman.”
I could erase my own rule of no
t following in my mother’s footsteps or I could throw caution to the wind and leap headfirst off the Weston cliff.
It was now or never.
Inhaling all the air my lungs could take, I let my heart speak. “Then don’t be a gentleman.”
Then he did the one thing I needed most.
His warm lips brushed against mine and sucked the air from my lungs. My heart pounded with each second his mouth remained on mine. Once every plump morsel of his lips was engraved in my memory, I opened my mouth. Our tongues connected and the world around us vanished. My hands clenched around his neck, pulled him in harder, deepened our kiss as much as humanly possible. One rule about kissing: you cannot give a kiss without taking one in return, and I took everything Weston gave me. I laced my fingers together, dug my nails into the skin of his neck, and caged him to me. He growled in response and pushed against my body. His hands held me in place as he claimed my mouth in a way no one had before. I moaned against his lips, and the ache between my legs grew like wildfire.
Weston lowered his hand. His fingertips trailed along my spine and stopped at the seam of my dress. His pelvis pressed against my body and I whimpered into his mouth. It was too consuming. Weston’s free hand moved up my arm. Locating my collarbone, he tickled my skin before he gripped the nape of my neck. He deepened his kiss and I moaned louder.
When he pulled away, it was like he had taken my breath with him. My fingers traced the outline of my swollen pout. My mouth tingled from his passionate and possessive kiss.
“We should head back. I can only hold out for so long before I decide to hold you captive and never let you go,” he whispered against my lips. His fingers pushed my hair from my face. I wanted to hit the pause button and savor this moment a bit longer.
“I wish I’d done that a long time ago.” He placed a chaste kiss on my lips. “Come on, beautiful.”
Weston gripped my hand as he led me back to the others. Peering over my shoulder, I gazed at our spot one last time. Lost in the moment and mesmerized by how he’d made me feel, I let him bring me back to my friends.
Inebriated from the alcohol and high from his kiss, I peered up at Weston. He ran the pad of his thumb over my lips. My eyes felt heavy from the alcohol and I was ready to call it a night. I dropped my body onto the bed. My head landed on Leslie’s shoulder.
Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition Page 8
