by Candy Sloane
She took another drink, the warmth of the vodka not even coming close to the heat on her skin as she rewound back to the two of them in that room. She passed the bottle back, she’d had enough. She could barely control herself sober.
“I do think you’re sexy,” he admitted, his shoulders wide against the headboard. “I know I need to try and forget that, but it’s the truth.”
She swallowed and stared at him. He’d told her to say thank you. He’d told her to reply with her own compliment, but even now she was still too insecure to say anything at all.
He moistened his lips. “One day I’m going to make you take that compliment.”
She exhaled, letting out the words she could let out. “I wanted to keep going with that blowjob,” she said, forcing herself to see his reaction. His eyes seemed to gloss over, like he was right back to her mouth tight around him. “I wanted to play you like you played me this morning.”
“Really?” He ran his fingers through his stubble. “Tell me more.”
She wasn’t sure she could. Not when they were sitting like this, like friends, on a bed together. When he called her Dirty Girl and had his hands all over her, she could say the words he demanded from her. But now…
“You first,” she said.
He didn’t hesitate. “When I was inside you”—the bed squeaked slightly as he leaned closer to her, so close his sturdy frame could have swallowed her up—“I forgot where I was for a minute.” There was vodka on his breath, lust in his eyes. “It, you, felt so fucking good. It was like I was nowhere and everywhere.”
How am I going to top that? She couldn’t. Instead she just said, “Me too.”
He ran the lip of the bottle along his own lips, took a long drink. “It’s too bad that was a onetime thing.” The words came out as a tease. “I’d really like to let you finish that blowjob.”
She wanted to laugh from nervousness, but she forced herself to sit still. His eyes traveled along her face, down to her lips, and she couldn’t help but lick them in response.
Could she just bend over and take him into her mouth? Valerie didn’t do things like that on her own. Alec’s touch brought out that side of her. Clearly she needed him to, because she was motionless.
She hoped he might make her be his Dirty Girl again, now. In fact she was screaming inside for how much she wanted him to. For him to say, Show me how it feels to come in your mouth, Dirty Girl.
But he didn’t move. He just sat there, teasing his lips along the mouth of the bottle, making her crave his kiss even more. Making it clear she would have to make the first move.
She understood that if the rule was going to be broken, he was going to force her to be the one to break it.
Wow, did she ever want to. Her body simmered at the thought of having him in her mouth, controlling his pleasure, teasing and sucking at him until he came at the back of her throat. Letting him know what an amazing fucking blowjob she could really give, but if she was confused now, what would another round of the hottest sex she’d ever had in her life with her best friend be like?
She had to go back to being just his friend after this weekend, if she finally went to visit him in L.A. and had to stand next to all those other women. If she craved him again like this now, more of Alec would only make her crave him more.
“Yeah,” she managed to choke out, “too bad.”
He took another drink and stared at her for a long minute, the deep brown of his eyes lightening slightly as they started to water. He gave her one last chance before he got up and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower, if that’s cool.”
He closed the door behind him, and the moment was gone.
She’d let it slip by, but it was for the best. She heard the water turn on, and she continued to try and convince herself of that.
As a reminder of her real life, she picked up her phone and checked her email. What she was waiting for there was what she wanted—the only thing before this weekend that she’d ever wanted this badly.
The London Philharmonic. But her inbox still didn’t hold an email from them. After this weekend, if she finally got London, would she still want Alec? Would he ever be able to commit to more than just wanting her? Would she ever be able to admit she needed him to?
Chapter Nine
Reece Freedland swung two golf putters in her hand. “You guys didn’t finish the obstacle course. You missed the catered barbecue lunch,” she droned on, “and you missed cocktails.” A miniature windmill whirled behind her. A “waterfall” dripped into a “lake” the size of a baby pool at her side.
Valerie’s classmates were picking up putters and dividing into teams divided by colored ball, but she and Alec were getting reprimanded while Cynthia stood beside them trying to keep her laughter in check.
“Were you taking attendance?” Alec shot back with a sly smile.
Valerie fought her own laugh attack, knowing it would only anger Reece further. She also had to admit she enjoyed Alec being her hero when it came to combating her ex-bully Reece Freedland, anyway.
Reece handed over the putters. “You two are playing miniature golf.” An open-air arcade screamed with sound from behind her, phantom guns and lasers mingling with her voice. “And you are playing in round one so I know you participate.”
The metal of the putter was hot and damp in Valerie’s hand. Val liked to win, she was competitive in everything she did, but miniature golf was a toy not a game.
“We paid ahead of time for all of this, though, right? So if we choose to waste our money, that’s our choice, our loss,” Val tried.
Reece looked like her head was going to pop off.
Everyone had changed so much since high school, but Reece was the same—controlling, type-A Reece. Of course, Valerie had allowed Alec to leave the bed and take a shower instead of finishing what he’d called her fucking amazing blowjob. Even when he was dropping hints so hard she could get a concussion, she was still dorky, knock-kneed, stringy-haired Val.
It wasn’t only confidence stopping her. It was her rules. She needed them. If she didn’t have the assurance to be the woman Alec thought she was, she wasn’t strong enough to be with someone like Alec.
“You are playing. On different teams,” Reece added with a knowing smile.
That was what Val got for talking back. She’d wanted to be on Alec’s team to prove they could do normal things and act normally together. She needed to know that her rules would stick.
Cynthia raised her hand. Her long blue peasant skirt and matching boho tank top made her appear like a Victorian beggar in Reece’s presence. “Can I be on Val’s team?”
Why was she bothering to ask? Seriously, Cynthia could do whatever she wanted. They all could. Reece was not the boss of them. But even as they protested, they stood there, listening, taking her crap.
“Of course.” Reece smiled. “Alec,” she added, eyeing him, “you can be on a team with—”
“Can’t play.” Alec stood taller in his boots. “My hands are insured for five hundred thousand dollars. I can’t fuck them up.”
He wore distressed jeans with holes in the knees and a tight white T-shirt. A different one than he’d worn the first night, but man, it was still perfection. Could people have their T-shirts and jeans tailored? Or did everything just fit Alec like it was an extension of his body?
“You’re going to hurt your hands playing miniature golf?” Reece asked.
“Honey, you have no idea what I can do with a stick.”
Cynthia tittered.
Valerie’s ribs played her stomach like a bagpipe. She did know, intimately. Oh man did she know. She also knew what he could do with those hands, and she wasn’t at all surprised they were insured for half a million dollars. Honestly, that was a bargain.
None of them spoke for a long minute. Reece was not backing down.
“I can call my manager if you’d like.” Alec leaned the putter against his leg and pulled out his cell. “The reunion would be liable, o
f course,” he continued, “if anything happened. I doubt you’d want to deal with that.”
Reece squinted. “You won’t have excuses for everything,” she declared as she walked away.
“Bravo!” Cynthia clapped.
“Thanks for saving us, too,” Val said sarcastically.
“What kind of saving did you have in mind?” Alec asked, his eyes daring her to look away.
Her ribs had moved on from her stomach and were beating against her heart in what felt like a caffeine-induced drum solo. What part of her body was going to betray her next? She clearly needed a break from Alec. Some time to breathe, to think. Like she hadn’t been thinking enough already—well, fantasizing.
When she didn’t respond, Alec thankfully, mercifully, continued. “Guess I’ll see you ladies at the bar after.” He started to head in when he paused and stepped closer to Valerie, moved his lips to her ear. He handed her his putter. “Take good care of my stick.”
She thought he might say something else. Dirty Girl, or, Like I know you can, but Cynthia was standing there, watching them, her eyes as wide as the golf balls that littered the AstroTurf below them. Instead he just ran a finger down the length of her arm, tapping twice on the bone of her wrist, before heading into the bar.
Heat pooled between her legs. Good God, how am I supposed to stop fantasizing now? How was she supposed to not lead him by his fat silver belt buckle behind that tiny windmill?
As he walked away, Valerie thought of the picture of him in Rolling Stone highlighting his back and ass. It had nothing on seeing it in person—sculpted and taut and as flawlessly smooth as an apple. Forget about tailored jeans. Alec had a tailored ass.
“Seriously, can you guys bottle that? I need a heavy dose,” Cynthia swooned.
Valerie managed a laugh. “You don’t want it, believe me.” But she was dizzy from him and awake in her panties. She should have worn a longer skirt like Cynthia’s. Her knee-length black skirt and heels left her too exposed, allowed the part of her that had begged for Alec to be that much closer to open air.
Cynthia lifted an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” Her eyes glanced over Val’s shoulder. “And what the hell is going on there?”
Valerie turned and found Gideon with his arms around Georgia, guiding her in a putt. Reece might have assigned their team, but it definitely seemed suspect they were together again. Those two wouldn’t have been in the same galaxy in high school. Gideon had been president of the computer club and Georgia had been and was, well, Georgia. But now he was touching her, in public.
Maybe everyone had changed since high school. She heard Reece yelling about having to stay on schedule and noticed Randy Tines heading toward the bar. Well, everyone but herself and Reece.
“Don’t ask me,” Valerie finally replied.
“I swear it’s like Cupid is on meth.”
Valerie laughed. “Those two definitely don’t seem to be among his best work.”
“Seriously, though.” Cynthia shook her head. “People are hooking up like frogs are raining from the sky.”
Valerie noted there were an awful lot of men and women paired off on teams together, teams that Reece would have never concocted in her entire life.
“What about you?” Valerie cajoled. She needed someone else’s gossip. She was drowning in her own.
“Not yet.” Cynthia’s eyes turned devilish. “But I have hope.” She picked up a red golf ball. “All this practice with balls and ropes has to be good for something, right?”
Valerie couldn’t control her burst of laughter. “If you want to hook up with someone, I’m sure you can. Like you said, Cupid is here. He might be on meth”—she snorted—“but he’s definitely working.”
Valerie glanced at the bar. It had huge garage-door-size windows, pushed up to let in summer air like the arcade. Alec sat inside with a beer. His silhouette was pensive as he ran his finger along the lip of his glass.
That finger… She throbbed where it had touched her, leaked from where it had entered her. She wasn’t sure about Cupid, but the patron saint of Playgirl magazine was definitely in attendance.
Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Slobbering with the same guys I could have hooked up with in high school. Who wants that?” She pointed at Gideon and Georgia. “I want whatever funky weirdness is going on over there.”
“Seriously, Cynthia, if there’s someone you want…” She paused, not believing how casual she sounded. Everything seemed casual until A.F., when every word became innuendo and every touch became fire. “All you’d have to do is ask.”
“I don’t want to ask. I want to be wooed. I want some guy I could have never been with in high school to tell me to take care of his stick!” She was yelling now. Not loud enough for other people to notice, but it was clear she meant it.
“Alec and I probably could have hooked up in high school,” Valerie said, only to make Cynthia feel better.
But when Cynthia looked up at her, eyes blazing, she’d realized her lie hadn’t worked. “Alec is a different deal altogether. He’s a rock star now. He’s not the geeky guy who used to follow you around like a puppy dog anymore.”
“He never followed me around like a puppy dog.” She couldn’t say, he’s just like he was back then, because who was she kidding?
“You can rewrite history all you want.” Cynthia lifted her hand. “But I’m telling you no matter what is happening between the two of you now, that boy wanted you then.”
Valerie had pushed it off at the time. Hadn’t been ready for it, but Alec’s invitation to New York City had been more than friendly. He’d offered her his heart that day the only way he knew how. But what they were doing now didn’t have anything to do with that. They might have slept together. They might still have been able to joke around like they always did, but he wasn’t offering her anything beyond a good time and certainly not the ultimate commitment she craved. Her rules made sure he never would.
Was she more afraid that sliver of feeling from the day after graduation would open again, or slam shut forever?
“Cupid was on target with you two,” Cynthia countered.
“Cupid has nothing to do with it,” Val responded. “It was just sex,” she made herself add, needing the reminder. “And we’re not doing it again.”
“Wow.” Cynthia took in Val’s admission. “Why the hell not?” Her eyes were slits.
“It’s complicated.”
“You guys want each other, so what the hell is complicated about that?”
“That!” Val exclaimed. “That’s what’s complicated. And it’s a rule, we made rules. We’re only doing it once.”
“It? Sex, you mean?” Cynthia corrected. “You could do other things, though, right?”
Val’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean if we learned anything from Bill Clinton, sex is dick inside vagina, and there are many ways to get around that word.”
Was Cynthia Cupid now? Because otherwise how could she know the unfinished business on Valerie’s mind? Maybe she was right. A blowjob wasn’t sex. Alec had taken care of her similarly that morning, and he’d said himself it hadn’t counted. Maybe she needed to finish that unfinished business to finally get over Alec. She shook her head—if she believed that, someone could probably sell her a bridge in Brooklyn. But what other solution did she have?
“We should probably start playing or Reece is going to come back,” Valerie said, pushing all those thoughts away.
“Nice save.” Cynthia stepped up to the hole and set down the ball. She whacked it with far more force than she needed to up the green. It chucked against the wall and boomeranged toward her, landing right back in the tee area. “This game is going to take forever.”
Val took her turn, and it was similarly dismal. Maybe this was why she hated miniature golf—she stunk.
“You know,” Cynthia said as she took another shot. It banked against the opposite wall, but it landed in the middle of the green. “Not talking about something doesn’t make it go away,
Val.”
Was Cynthia crawling around in her brain? Alec had tried to talk to her earlier about never coming to visit, about wanting her to visit now. She could have asked him what he really meant by her being the only one in L.A. She could have demanded that she be. Instead they’d both chickened out and talked about blowjobs.
Valerie didn’t reply, just took her own shot. It hit the back wall of the hole and ricocheted past her to the bucket of balls behind them, knocking it over. “That should count for a hundred points.”
“Don’t change the subject.” Cynthia clenched her jaw. “There’s little I’m thankful for concerning my divorce, but one thing I did learn, when you keep things in, they explode.”
“I’m not keeping anything in.” The lie was like acid on Valerie’s tongue, but she was keeping it in for her own good. Cynthia had not only been divorced, but married, too. She’d had a man declare he wanted her, only her, for the rest of his life—even if it hadn’t lasted. That was the kind of relationship Valerie should have been working on and why she needed to let this thing with Alec go.
“Let me put it another way. If you deny yourself what you want, you will regret it.” She didn’t make it any secret as she glanced across the holes at Jacob Riedel. “God knows, I do.”
“Cynthia.” Valerie touched her hand. “You didn’t get Jacob during spin the bottle?”
Cynthia shook her head. “I got Randy Tines, twice.” She shuddered.
Valerie wrinkled her nose. “I would say I’m sorry, but nothing is going to make that better.”
“It was horrible,” she said. “He kisses like you’re his science experiment and he failed chemistry.”
“Wow.” She flashed to Alec’s lips, full and mischievous. They had literally brought her to her knees. She hadn’t even kissed him yet. What is wrong with me? She was never going to. If she kissed him she was going to want more. She wanted more already.
“I’m guessing Alec’s lips don’t feel like two wet rubber bands, so you might as well enjoy whatever is going on between you two right now.”
