by D. B. James
That’s what I need to focus on instead of my father’s declining health, and certainly not the fact that my mother called Brant instead of me.
“You know what? I’m good. I’ve got this, but thank you for offering. Now, get out of my office, dickbreath.”
Shaking his head, he laughs and walks toward the front door. At least he knows I’m mostly back to normal.
“Hey, Rhys, your next one is here. I’m sending him back. See ya later.”
Before I can get out of my chair, Ryan Leppek is striding into my makeshift office.
“Rhys Gallhagar?”
“Yes, and you’re Ryan Leppek?”
“That’d be me. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the chance to speak with you.”
Rifling through the papers on my desk, I find what I need before continuing on with this interview of sorts.
“No, thank you for meeting with me. As I said over the phone, I’m opening an office that’ll be roughly sixty percent pro bono cases: abuse victims, victims of rape, the homeless, victims of racial profiling, people who normally get a bad rap, etc. I’ve been practicing law for a few years now out of this area and some in Chicago. I’d like to stay in those areas to begin with but I know you also work in the Detroit area. I love that, and would like for you to still work there if you decide to accept a position-slash-partnership with me after we meet today. Now, let’s get to know one another.”
After another hour of questions from both Ryan and myself, I decide to extend the invitation of a partnership to him. He’s exactly the kind of person I’m looking to open this practice with.
The next couple of days fly by and before I know it, we’re driving over to Averill’s place to pick Tessa and her up for the concert.
“Do you know what this Tessa chick looks like?” Brant asks as he makes the turn onto Averill’s street.
“Not a clue.”
“She better be smokin’ hot. This is sort of like a double date and a blind date at the same time.”
“Brant?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the fuck up. This is neither of those things. Tessa could have hairy legs and warts on her chin for all I care. It’s not a blind date or a double date. Averill is my friend and was once yours too. I may want to date her, but we’re testing the waters. I’ll say it again: Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” he asks as he pulls in the driveway of a cute ranch-style house at the end of a one-way street. Her sporty black number is sitting in the driveway, letting me know we’re in the right place.
Brant honks the horn as I’m getting out of the passenger seat to walk to the door. “What the hell, dude?”
“You said this wasn’t a date. Since it’s not one, I honked. Deal with it.”
Ignoring him, I proceed to the front door, and Averill opens it as I’m walking up the few steps. “Hey, Rhys.”
She takes my breath away. The dress she’s wearing—if you can call it a dress—is showing way more leg than I’m comfortable with. Her hair is twisted up at both sides, but otherwise hangs loosely down her back. Holy shit, does she look amazing, completely bewildering. Like I said, she leaves me breathless.
“Averill, you look stunning as usual. Are you ladies ready?” It’s taking all my strength not to reach out and run my fingers down her face or place my hand at her waist to pull her in to gently kiss her cheek.
“Yes, Tessa is putting on her shoes in the other room and she’ll be right out. We heard the horn and we’re coming out. You didn’t have to come to the door,” she replies as she bends to continue buckling the strap on her shoe.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Brant is being an impatient asshole.”
“No, it’s okay. I figured you guys would honk when you were here anyway.” She glances up at me, her whiskey eyes more striking than ever before, the gold of her dress enhancing the color. She’s magnificent.
“He’s mad because I told him this wasn’t a double date. Where he came up with that crazy idea from, I have no idea. He must’ve been dropped on his head as a baby.”
Laughing, she gives me an evil look. “Rhys, he’s supposed to be your best friend…but it is funny.”
As she continues to laugh, a gorgeous woman with hair as black as midnight approaches the open doorway behind her. Right away, I know I’m fucked. Brant is going to pursue Tessa like a dog with a bone. He’s not going to let her out of his sight. She’s exactly his type.
“Tessa?”
“Yes, that’d be me. You must be Rhys.”
“Sure am, pleasure.”
Twining Averill’s arm with mine, I lead them down the steps toward Brant’s waiting SUV. He immediately jumps out of his door and is opening the front passenger side door, presumably for Tessa. He’d never open the door for me, but I had guessed the ladies would want to be together in the back since we’ve basically crashed their night out.
She, however, doesn’t waste one second before hopping in.
“Thank you, ace.”
“I guess you’re stuck sharing the back with my ugly mug,” I whisper in Averill’s ear.
She turns around to glance back at me. “You’re anything but ugly, Rhys. In fact, you’re sexy as hell.”
Instead of sliding all the way across the back seat, she stops once she’s directly in the middle, and she’s so close I’m practically breathing her in. Each breath I take is sweeter than the last. Before we’re out of her driveway, she places her hand on my thigh.
“Easy babe, you’ll wake the lion inside. If you want to keep taking our friendship slow, don’t move your hand…any…higher.”
Gritting my teeth, it’s all I can do not to reach over, haul her into my arms, and completely devour her. To hell with her rules and the people in the front seat. I want her. She has to want me. All the signs she’s given me point to yes, and I’m this close to taking what I want.
Her gaze seeks mine, and her breath hitches as if she’s turned on by simply sitting next to me. What has changed her mind? Does she want more than friendship?
“Averill?”
If she’s changed her mind, she needs to let me know. If she can’t say the words, she needs to let me know with her actions.
Instead of answering me, her whiskey gaze remains on mine. Her pupils begin to dilate, her breath continuing to come out in short rasps. She licks her lips and brazenly moves her hand slightly higher, her thumb gently tracing a circle on my inner thigh. She moves her other hand over onto my shoulder, bites my earlobe, and whispers, “Maybe for tonight we can toss out my silly rules.”
Growling, I reach over her legs, roughly grab her hips, and pull her onto my lap, her gasp of surprise met with my mouth. Threading my fingers through her hair, I deepen the kiss. She tastes like heaven. I need inside. Pressing my tongue against her lower lip, I silently plead for access. The taste of mint mouthwash mixes with the taste of the beer on my tongue. She lets out a hungry moan and pushes down hard on my lap, her core hitting my hardening cock. Her tongue meets mine as she grinds down again. Holy fuck. I kiss her harder, so rough our teeth clash, and press my hips up to meet hers, aligning her clit to hit my rigid dick on every circle of our hips. Her moans are the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Do you, uh, want me to drop you two off at your place, Rhys? Because I can, and you can meet us there.”
With those words, the spell is broken. Averill scrambles from my lap and flees to the other side of the seat.
“No.”
Her one-word reply shatters the tiny bit of confidence I had in us tossing out her so-called rules for the night. Brant just had to open his big mouth, couldn’t just do me a solid and leave us alone in our lust-hazed world. He knows how skittish she’s been. He fucking knows.
“You’re an asshole, Brant. Thanks for that, by the way. If I don’t say it again tonight, I want you to know how much of a dick you truly are.”
Just when I thought my week was looking up and I was finally going to have a win,
Brant opens his mouth and destroys it, bringing reality back to the forefront.
Fucking dick.
The opening band isn’t half bad. In fact, I may buy their demo on the way out, if I remember. What’s making them stand out to me is the way the ladies are dancing together to their music.
Averill dancing by herself would be spectacular. Adding Tessa to the mix? They’re magnificent. Trust me, every guy in a fifty-foot radius has taken notice. The band has taken notice too. If the lead singer looks at Averill one more time, he’s going to be meeting the wrong end of my fist.
Get ahold of yourself, Rhys.
The dresses they’re wearing should be illegal. They barely cover their asses, and when they sway, it’s taking all of my self-control not to go over there and claim her as mine. I know for damn sure, neither woman is wearing a bra. When we were kissing, it would have been easy for me to slide my hand up and under, and I was well on my way when Brant interrupted us. Averill’s is this sexy, glittery, strapless, gold number, and Tessa’s is silver. It’s like they planned on being opposites of each other.
Brant elbows me, bringing me out of my brooding.
“Stop glaring and enjoy the show—or better yet, go dance with her.”
He’s right, I should.
I’m not a dancer, never have been, but I do have rhythm. Averill has her eyes closed, lost in the music when I walk up behind her, place my hands on her hips, pull her back into me, and place my chin on her shoulder.
She doesn’t hesitate to start moving in time with me, doesn’t turn around to make sure of who it is before she gyrates her hips with mine. Her arms move above us and she places them behind my head, leans back into me farther, twists her head around to meet my gaze, and places a quick kiss upon my lips.
“I knew it was you.”
She turns back around toward the band and continues dancing to the music as if nothing has happened, ignoring my hard-on pressing into her ass. I can’t help it. I’ve been hard since the second she laid her hand on me on the drive over here, and her fleeing didn’t put a damper on it. It seems to be the state I’m in whenever she’s around; it can’t be helped.
Stupidly, I had thought spending the night with another woman may be the cure, but I know now it’d never have worked. There’s only one cure.
Averill.
The next few songs pass by in a blur, and all I recall is the feel of her body melding to mine. This song though? It’s slow, and I’m going to use it to my advantage. I need to see her face, not only feel her. It’s no longer enough.
Softly, I turn her, guiding her around until she’s facing me. Once our gazes collide, I don’t let her break eye contact. The lyrics being sung are perfection. They’re affirming everything I’m feeling for her. I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone in my life. Swaying to the music, it’s like we’re in a trance. If I thought we were in our own world before, I was wrong. We’re completely in our own world now.
When the song ends, the crowd roars with applause.
I lean in and kiss her the way I meant to kiss her the first time—gently, like she’s made of glass and will break if I press too hard. I press one feather-light kiss after another upon her lips, each time pressing slightly harder, until she can’t take it anymore. She grabs my face with both hands, pulling me in closer, opening her mouth to me, pressing her tongue to mine.
“I want you, Rhys,” she whispers into my mouth before kissing me again. She knows without me responding verbally how much I want her. She can feel how my body reacts to her, but it’s more than my merely wanting her.
“I need you,” I say with a growl.
Pulling back, I break the kiss and place my hand under her chin, gently lifting it until her whiskey gaze again meets mine. “I need you, Averill. I’m willing to wait for you. It’s not a want for me but a need. You’re worth more than a one-night stand. If you’re only tossing your rules out the window for one night, I’m going to decline, because as much as it pains me to say it, I need more, baby.”
She drops her gaze and takes a step back. This can’t be a good sign.
“Let’s not discuss it here, okay?”
The sultry, sexy mood of a moment ago is replaced with one of uncertainty. Why is she uncertain of herself? Why does she hold herself back?
“Deal.”
Instead of letting her stand there continuing to doubt herself, I place my hands back on her hips and gently turn her back around until she’s facing the now-empty stage. I’m taking a step backward until after the show is over, because as soon as we get another moment alone, we’re talking about all of this.
“Rory has gotten better. How is it conceivable for someone to repeatedly get better at something they’re already overwhelming awesome at? Riddle me this, kind sir.” Tessa is talking about the lead singer of Sunset Sons. Admittedly, he has gotten better since I last saw them perform.
“Ha, you did not just say ‘riddle me this’, Tessa. What the shit?” Averill asks her friend from the back seat.
Not able to help myself, I laugh at the two of them. I’m not talking about a small laugh either; I’m talking a full-on belly laugh, the kind where you have to hold your sides afterward because they hurt so bad from the exertion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’d had unlimited amounts of alcohol to have led to this conversation.
“Christ, you two are funny.” My comment is met with an awkward silence.
Brant hasn’t said a word since we left the venue. He seems off. I wonder if something happened during the show? Since I took his advice and danced with Averill, I never let her go until the last note of the guitar was strummed, the last thump of the drum beat.
Kicking his seat to get his attention, he observes me in the rearview mirror. “You okay?” I mouth to him. He nods a yes in return. Whatever, he’s not ruining my good mood.
“Are you ladies sure you want to go eat and skip the after party?” Brant asks, finally breaking his silence.
“I’m starving.”
“I want to go to the party.”
The first reply comes from Averill, the latter from Tessa.
“Sounds like a problem easily solved. Brant, are you hungry?” I ask.
“Nope, I’m decent.”
“Okay, how about you drive over to the after party, go inside with Tessa, and I’ll take Averill to eat. We can come meet you two at the party when we’re done. Sound good?”
To be honest, it sounds downright perfect to me. I want some alone time with her because we need to talk, and she’s hungry. It’s not actually breaking up the whole group for long, because we’ll meet back up in less than an hour.
“I’m okay with it if you are, Av.”
“Yeah, I am too, as long as you’re good with Brant. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, Tessa.”
“Oh no, we’re practically old pals by now, right, ace?”
“Su-Sure, if you say so.” Hm, she has managed to make him stutter. Something had to have happened at the show when I wasn’t looking.
“It’s all set then. We’ll drop you two off and meet you back there in a bit.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Brant salutes me from the driver’s seat and turns left, heading back toward the club where the party is taking place.
Smartass.
Pulling into DeMarco’s parking lot, I glance at the clock on the dash, noting the time—it’s nearly midnight. Shit, they’re probably closing soon.
“If you want to stay here for a minute, I’ll run up and check the hours. I didn’t think about the time before bringing you here. They may be closed or closing soon.”
“I’m fine with eating anything, Rhys. You could’ve taken me through a drive-thru and I would’ve been fine. In fact, you still can.”
Hell no, not for the conversation I want to have with her. On one hand, taking her to a drive-thru would mean we’d be completely alone in the vehicle while we ate, giving us nothing but privacy. On the other hand, it’d give us complete privacy, whi
ch scares the shit out of me.
“I’ll be right back.” Not giving her a chance to object again, I get out and stride toward the entrance. All the interior lights are still on, as is their outside light—a positive sign.
The door says their weekend hours are until one AM. Perfect.
Walking back to get Averill, I open her door and offer her my hand to assist her down.
“They’re still open?” she asks.
“Yep, until one.”
“Wow, that’s great. Don’t let me drink my weight in wine though. At least make me eat some breadsticks to soak it up.”
Winking at her because I know it’ll drive her crazy, I lead her to the front door.
“Gah, stop winking. It’s weird,” she complains as we’re walking in the door. The hostess giggles before greeting us.
“Welcome to DeMarco’s. Table for two?”
“Please,” I reply.
“Follow me this way.” She leads us halfway across the restaurant before stopping at a table dead in the center. “Is this one okay?”
Averill answers before I can. “Yeah, anything is going to be acceptable. Thank you.”
Pulling out a chair, I gesture for her to have a seat. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you, Rhys.”
Not able to help myself, I wink at her again.
The hostess hands her a menu, which she opens and hides behind, giggling the whole time.
“Our special tonight is asparagi di pollo. It’s chicken sautéed with fresh asparagus, sun-dried tomatoes, and peas, served over fettuccine with a light lemon butter sauce. Our wine special is half off all bottles of Stella Rosa wines, and my personal recommendation is their peach wine. Your server tonight will be Ashlyn, and she’ll be right over.”
As soon as she walks away, Averill gives me a scowl over the top of her menu.
