The Promise

by Natalie Clarke

  Gwen empties another glass and places it down on the table. Jesus, in all my twenty-eight years, I have never seen a girl drink so much in such a short space of time, it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever, she should be on the floor by now.

  The song ends and the opening to IDGAF by Dua Lipa begins to play.

  Gwen gasps loudly. “Oh my God! I love this song!” She jumps up from her seat, before winding her way into a crowd of people dancing in the large open space just in front of the bar.

  Through the crowd I can see her. She is a goddamn vision. She dances confidently, seductively, commanding the whole dancefloor. Her arms extended above her head as she sways her hips to the beat, twirling around on the spot, her eyes closed, head tilted back slightly as she mouths along to the words of the song.

  I tear my eyes away from her, discreetly adjusting myself as my raging erection throbs painfully in my jeans.

  Jesus, this woman...

  “So, how are things in Boston?” Hayley asks, resting her elbows on the table.

  “They’re good, things are running well.”

  “How long are you staying in New York?”

  “Not sure yet. They don’t need me right now and it’s good to be back home, for however long it is.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’re back.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I lift my drink to my lips, my eyes wandering back to where Gwen is dancing, and I freeze. She’s wrapped up tight against a guy, her back to his front, his hands all over her, roaming over her body.

  I watch as she presses her ass into his crotch and his hands slide down the sides of her body, coming to rest at the hem of her dress, dipping his fingers underneath while he buries his face in her neck.

  Fuck this shit.

  I slam my glass back down on the table, cool liquid spilling onto my hand and the table as I jump up out of my seat and stalk my way over to them.

  “... you’ve got such a fucking hot body, babe.” I hear the creep say.

  “One that’s not yours.” I grip Gwen’s hand and tug her to me, wrapping my arm around her waist protectively, possessively. My eyes never waver from the guy who was rubbing up against her. I give him a warning glare. “Now run along.”

  “Whatever,” he says waving me off dismissively before walking away.

  “What was that?” Gwen asks as she glares up at me.

  “Stopping that asshole from feeling you up as if he has a right to, like you're his.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not yours either so that makes you even.” She tries to wrench out of my grasp, but I hold on tighter.

  “If you’re going to dance with someone,” my voice deepens, “it’s going to be with me.” I grip her waist and begin to sway to the music. She reaches up and places her hand on my chest, over my heart which is thundering against my ribcage at her closeness.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I should be keeping my distance not closing it, and it’s safe to say there is no distance between us now. She’s tight up against me, so close I’m sure she can feel my erection through my jeans pressing against her stomach.

  “Why did you do what you just did to that guy? Like you have some sort of claim on me, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  “Like the way you’re looking at me now?” she challenges. “Look, you lost any right to have a say in what I do, a year ago, when you made it pretty clear I mean nothing to you, so just back off alright?” She shrugs off my grip and storms away.

  I should go after her, but I’m afraid it will only make it worse.

  A short while later I’m sitting in my seat opposite Hayley and Kyle. Gwen is back on the dancefloor and I refuse to look at her. She is totally right. I have no claim on her, no right to have a say in what she does, but the thought of another man touching her has me raging with anger, and even jealousy, a completely new feeling to me. But I have no reason to be jealous, as she said herself, it’s not like she’s mine.

  The one thing she is wrong about, is that she does mean something to me. As much as I’ve tried to fight it, there is no denying she’s under my skin, slowly creeping her way in further.

  “Oh my God! What the hell is she doing?” Hayley asks, her eyes wide as she stares at something behind me.

  I turn my head to see Gwen, stood on top of the bar top, dancing to Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard, snapping her hips to the beat, doing her version of Coyote Ugly. Someone passes her a bottle of beer and she downs it in one while continuing to dance, her arms held high about her head as she twirls around, her dark red hair creating a halo around her head.

  She’s so fucking beautiful. My dick hardens even more than it was before, if that’s even possible. My brain and my dick are seriously out of sync and are in desperate need of some coordination. I look at her dancing, carefree, happy, sexy as hell, and I want to give in to it, the attraction I have for her, to the temptation, but I can’t let this pull towards her take a hold, that’s not an option.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from her, but as much as I love watching her, I’m more worried about her falling from the bar and breaking her neck in those ridiculous heels, not to mention the hoard of guys crowding around the bar, their necks craned upwards, their eyes glued to her. From where they’re standing I’m pretty sure they’ve got a great view up her dress. My hands fist at the thought of their eyes on her. I want to tear each and every one of their fucking eyes out.

  Another girl climbs up to join her, and then another after her, and as the chorus comes in, the three of them strut across the bar, Gwen in the center, swinging her hips like she owns it. And own it she does. She throws her head back in laughter, throwing her arms around the girls she dances with, pulling them in closer as they begin to dance in sync.

  A guy from below reaches up to touch her leg, she tries to shake him off, but he grips her ankle tighter, causing her to stumble, and I’m pulling the guy back by his collar before I can even blink.

  “What the fuck, dude?” he asks me.

  “You don’t touch her,” I warn, my voice low enough it comes out as more of a growl.

  “Fuck you, man!”

  Above me, Gwen's heel catches on something and suddenly she’s falling, straight into my arms. I catch her, her arms winding around my neck instinctively while she rests her head on my shoulder. I carry her out of the bar, making sure to cover her ass which is pretty much on show for the whole world to see in this ridiculous dress.

  Once we’re outside, I place her back down on the ground and she places her hands on my biceps to steady herself. I swipe the hair that has fallen over her face out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “Can you stand?”

  “Of course I can,” she shoots back, swaying slightly from left to right.

  “You sure about that?” A smile tugs at my lips.

  “Yes.” She pushes against me slightly and stumbles.

  My arm snakes around her waist to take her weight, keeping her from falling. “What did I say, huh? How I'd have to carry you out when you couldn’t walk by yourself?” I laugh just as the door swings open behind us and Hayley and Kyle come into view.

  “Is she okay?” Hayley asks as they come over to meet us.

  “Yeah, I think all that booze finally hit her. I’m going to take her home.” I shrug out of my jacket and drape it around her shoulders.

  “Okay,” she says. “Here’s her bag,” she hands it over to me and smiles.

  “Thanks.” I smile back.

  I flag down a cab which comes to a stop beside us in the sidewalk.

  “Nice one, man.” Kyle gives me a wink.

  “I’ll make sure she’s safe.” I assure them before helping her into the cab, sliding in beside her and giving the driver her address.

  Chapter 8

  Zach

  I hand the driver a wad of bills and help Gwen out of the cab, wrapping an arm securely around her waist preventing her from falling flat o
n her face, which I’m sure would happen if I let go.

  We make it up to her floor and I prop her up against the wall next to her front door, pinning her with my hips to stop her from slipping to the ground while I rummage through her bag for her keys.

  Why do women carry so much shit in their bag? It must take them hours to find the thing they’re looking for, and it’s almost always right down at the fucking bottom.

  After what seems like hours, I find her keys, as expected, at the bottom, and I unlock her door and take her waist, leading her inside. I flick on the light and walk her into her bedroom.

  I place her down on the edge of the bed where she collapses back, her body bouncing against the soft mattress. I head to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee to try to sober her up before returning to her room.

  Has it really been a year since I’ve been in here? Nothing’s changed, it’s just as I remembered, just as I picture it in my dreams almost every fucking night. A deep plum and ivory décor, sexy and seductive in a way. A huge wide bed takes up the centre of the room, the crisp sheets cool under my fingers. Off to the left is a tall chest of draws and to the right is an old rocking chair in the corner, which I guess is how she used to rock Lucas off to sleep as a baby.

  I crouch down in front of her, gripping her arm and tugging her to sit upright. “Here,” I hand her the cup of coffee and she takes it, sniffing it, takes a small sip and wrinkles her nose. She hands the cup back to me, but I shake my head. “All of it.”

  “Seriously?” she pouts.

  “Yep.”

  She huffs, bringing the cup back up to her lips and finishing it all. She tosses the empty cup beside her on the bed and flops back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

  “You’re gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning.”

  “Nah, I don't get hangovers, never have.”

  “We'll see.”

  Silence falls between us, and I just stare up at her from my spot where I’m crouched in front of her on the floor, watching her body rise and fall with heavy breaths. I could stay here and watch her all night quite happily.

  “Why does everybody leave me, Zach?” she asks wearily.

  “What do you mean?”

  She heaves herself up and leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees, picking at the hem of her dress absentmindedly. Her face is so close to mine as I gaze up at her that if I lean in just a little, my lips will undoubtedly meet hers.

  So close.

  “First my mom walked out on me when I was four, then my dad died, my grandma died when I was nineteen... then... then Luke leaves me,” she breaks into a sob, tears breaking free, falling down her cheeks as she struggles to speak. “Everyone I care about leaves me, including you, and now Josh... what’s wrong with me, Zach? Why does everyone leave me?”

  “Hey, look at me,” I take her face in my palm, cupping her cheek, “you are not alone, okay? You have so many people who love you, who care about you. You have Hayley, you’re best friend, your sister, you have Kyle and his parents who would do anything for you. You have that beautiful little boy who adores you...” I lean in closer, my nose almost brushing hers, my voice dipping to a whisper, “and you have me.”

  She sniffs, her jade green eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Do I?”

  I catch a stray tear that trickles down her cheek. “Yeah.”

  Without warning, she leans in and presses her lips to mine. At first I don’t react, my mind still trying to catch up, still trying to register what is happening.

  Gwen is kissing me.

  Something that I’ve dreamed of for a whole year.

  Is this really happening or am I dreaming?

  She begins to pull back but my hand clamps around the back of her neck as I kiss her back, my eyes falling closed as I deepen the kiss, claiming her mouth hungrily.

  Fuck, she tastes so good.

  I lose myself in her, my mind absent of all thought. She feels so good in my hands, against my lips.

  My fingers wind through her long silky hair as she grips the front of my shirt tugging me towards her and we fall onto her bed, her body beneath me, as I kneel between her legs. She pulls her knees up so they’re level with my hips and she squeezes.

  My dick is throbbing, pressing through my jeans into her stomach, desperate to get lost in her tight, warm heat. She moans into my mouth as she begins to move her body underneath me, rubbing up against me, searching for the friction she so desperately needs.

  This is wrong.

  She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but then again, I’m sober and neither do I.

  “Gwen,” I moan. I try to pull back, but she holds onto me tighter. “Gwen, stop.” I grip her hands and pin them above her head with my own as I stare down at her, my nose grazing hers as I gasp for breath. “We can’t do this, not like this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re drunk, and I’m not going to take advantage of you.” I lean in closer, my lips brushing the shell of her left ear. “And because if and when I fuck you, I want you to be sober. I want you to be able to remember what it feels like.”

  I pull away, bringing her up with me so she’s back sitting upright on the edge of the bed staring down at me where I’m kneeling on the floor.

  “Come on, let’s get you undressed, you can’t sleep in this.” I motion to her dress.

  She pouts, the corner of her mouth curving up. “So you're going to undress me but you’re not going to fuck me?” She snorts. “Dude, you have this all wrong. No wonder you’re still single.” She giggles.

  I laugh, my eyes never leaving hers.

  Her face drops, turning pale and her eyes go wide. “I’m going to throw up.” She covers her mouth with her hand and stumbles towards the bathroom.

  I’m right behind her, crouching down and gathering her hair, holding it back as she vomits into the toilet.

  “Go away. I don’t want you to see me like this,” she says as another wave of nausea washes over her, her body heaving.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  We sit like this for a few minutes, me behind her, rubbing her back as she retches into the toilet bowl.

  After a few minutes of respite from vomiting, she flushes and stands up, wiping her mouth with toilet paper and leaning over the sink to take a sip of water from the faucet.

  I head out of the bathroom to let her get changed. I perch on the edge of her bed, hearing the sound of the shower switching on.

  As much as I will myself not to, I can’t stop myself from picturing her dress slipping to the floor, pooling at her feet as she steps into the shower, leaving it discarded on the ground. The image takes me back to that night a year ago.

  “Fuck, Red... this dress. The things I want to do to you...” I whispered, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as my hands trailed down her body, the silky fabric soft under my fingertips. I dipped my fingers under the hem of her dress, feeling the soft creamy skin of her thighs underneath.

  I dragged my lips down to the sensitive skin below her ear before I continued down to her neck where I pressed delicate kisses over her skin, making her shiver.

  I spun her around to face me before claiming her mouth roughly, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, teasing it with my teeth. I gripped her waist and pulled her down to straddle me as I sit on her bed, my lips never leaving hers.

  She tore off the tie that was hanging loosely around my neck, moving her hands down to unbutton my shirt, leaving it gaping open as she ran her hands over my chest and down to my stomach. She gripped my belt and unfastened it, before undoing the fly on my pants and climbing off me.

  I lie in the centre of Gwen’s bed, my crisp white shirt unbuttoned, the fly on my pants wide open.

  “Strip for me.” I’m propped up on my elbows, my cock hard and ready, straining against the confines of my pants as I watched Gwen unzip her dress.

  She peeled off her dress seductively, inch by inch, never taking her eyes off mine
as she pushed the fabric from her shoulders, exposing her tits. Fuck me... her tits are perfect. Full and heavy. My fingers itched to touch them, my mouth watered with the craving to taste them, suck on them.

  She inched the dress lower, over her stomach, down over her hips before it slowly slipped to the ground in a puddle at her feet, leaving her stood in nothing but a thin scrap of red lace that barely covered her pussy.