by Penny Dee
“Pfft!” Bridget waved off my comment. “One word from you and that girl isn’t going anywhere.”
Her words shot some well-needed heat into my heart. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt the warmth of sunshine and all that gooey stuff you heard about when people described what it was like to be in love.
Was it possible I had a chance with her?
“You really think so?” I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded.
She nodded and smiled.
“I do. So you’d better go and tell her exactly how you feel before this gets any more complicated than what the two of you have already made it.”
* * * * *
HARLOW
The night was going from bad to worse. As the club filled with people and we had less and less room to move, Dean made every opportunity to stand close and touch me. At one point he even started to rub his fingers up and down my arm as we waited at the bar for a drink.
To get away from his hands-on approach to our evening, I escaped to the bathroom and sat in the cubicle, desperately trying to come up with an exit strategy. I would need to remind him that this wasn’t a date … but how many times did I have to do that?
I was desperate to ring Heath. To ask him to pick me up. To ask him to be my friend again.
God I was pathetic.
Back in the bar the night went from bad to worse, as the alcohol he consumed took effect and Dean became more and more handsy.
When I reproached him, he would flash that million-dollar smile and throw his hands up in jest like it was all a big joke.
To take the edge off, I started on the shots and totally misjudged my tolerance levels.
Dean, however, seemed to appreciate me letting my guard down and I began to wonder if he was trying to get me drunk. He lined up a row of shots for us to do. I didn’t know what they were, only that they were better if you didn’t taste them going down.
When I picked up my last shot, Heath suddenly swooped in and removed the shot glass from between my fingers.
“Hey—” I protested.
“She isn’t used to alcohol, asshole,” he seethed at Dean.
Even in my drunken haze the sight of him set off fireworks throughout my body.
“Relax Heath, she’s an adult,” Dean said calmly.
“She’s nineteen. She’s not even legal!”
“Maybe not for Tequila.” Dean said, his eyes twinkling lasciviously as they rolled over my breasts.
Heath breathed in deeply, squeezing his eyes closed. I knew he was fighting an urge to thump Dean. Even in my inebriated state I could see the thin restraint on his face.
Instead, he turned his back on Dean to face me.
“You’re drunk Harlow. I’m taking you home before you pass out.” He went to help me up from my stool but I clumsily pushed him away and almost fell over before he caught me in his strong arms.
Dean stood up. “I’ll take her home.”
Heath shot him a murderous look. “She’s drunk. She isn’t going anywhere with you.”
“Back off Heath,” Dean warned.
Heath plopped me back on the stool and swung around. He was taller and far more imposing than Dean.
“Listen to me you asshole, I know what you’re doing but it ain’t gonna happen. Trying to get her drunk enough so you can talk her out of her clothes?” He leaned in close, his voice dangerously low. “I should beat the hell outta you for trying.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Any time you wanna try, pretty boy.”
Suddenly I felt woozy and the world began to spin.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I slurred.
Without hesitation Heath scooped me up and had me outside before I knew it. As soon as the night air blasted me, I threw up everything in my stomach.
Heath held me around my hips with one hand so I didn’t fall over, while his other hand held my hair back.
When the convulsions finally stopped, I steadied myself against him.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, a little unsure if that was true. Then remembering Dean was still inside I gave Heath an unsteady push. “I’m going back in.”
He held me tighter. “I don’t think so, Harlow. The only place you’re going is home.”
A second attempt at pushing him was equally ineffective—I was no match for those arms.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I complained.
“I can when you have more alcohol in your veins than plasma.” He tried steering me away from the entrance of the club but I was able to shake him free.
“Let me go.” I wobbled on my high heels and shakily straightened my dress. “Don’t you have some girl to go stick your dick into?”
Heath’s eyebrows shot up but quickly evened out. “Right now I’m pretty busy trying to make sure you get home safely.”
“I’m not going home!”
“Yes you are.”
I tried to walk back towards the club but Heath stepped in my way.
Drunk, frustrated and a little bit pissed at him for being such a jerk, I thrust my palms into his chest to push him back. He didn’t budge.
“Get out of my way, you jerk!”
“If you think I’m gonna let you go back in there and get violated by that asshole, then you’re crazy.”
“He’s not an asshole. He’s hot!” I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to focus.
“You’re more drunk than I thought,” he mumbled.
Wobbling unsteadily on my heels, I said, “Where do you get off trying to tell me what to do? You don’t even like me the way you like other girls.”
I swayed and Heath grabbed my arms to steady me.
“Those may be the truest words you’ve said since opening your mouth,” he said evenly.
If I had been sober I may have felt slightly offended. But full of tequila and ridiculously drunk, his words stung me deeply. It made me feel so inadequate in comparison. Obviously, I wasn’t good enough for him like his hordes of admirers were. Or all the other girls he made scream.
Hating how I felt, I pushed him in the chest again. “You’re such a player—”
The next thing I knew, Heath lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I yelled, wriggling my legs and slapping his back.
He ignored me and just kept walking.
“I’m. Not. Kidding,” I cried.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Heath lilted.
When he put me down we were next to his sexy sleek Challenger and Heath was bundling me into the passenger seat.
“Just so you know H-bomb, if you puke in it, you clean it. Got it?”
Before I could process the thought in my punch-drunk brain, he was beside me in the driver’s seat and the engine roared to life. My head lolled to the side as the lights of the city blurred past.
“Just for the record, I want you to know I am not drunk,” I slurred.
He glanced sideways. “Just for the record, I want you to know that you are fall-down drunk.”
My head lolled about and rested to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, the defined line of his chiseled jaw sharpened in the street light.
Goddamn it he’s hot, I thought before rolling my head to the side and passing out.
Chapter Ten
HEATH
Drunk girls weren’t exactly a favorite of mine. God knows I’d come across my fair share of them. They filled the clubs and a lot of them were our fans, so I respected them for being loyal to the band and our music. But they could be difficult. Demanding. Insistent.
Trouble.
So I was used to how it played out. They got drunk. And things came out of their mouths that they might not ever say if they were sober. And they did things—things they might regret later. Including throwing drinks at me because they expected something more from me, when I had never offered it to them in the first place.
So when Harlow threw her arms around my neck and began to gently nuzzle my throat, despite the fucking amazing pleasure it sent cou
rsing through me, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t real. She was drunk and I was helping her into my house where I planned to put her to bed and nurse her until she sobered up. That’s all. Nothing more. She had insisted she didn’t want to go back to her house, so I brought her back to mine, where she was safe and I could make sure nothing happened to her.
But, Jesus Christ, the way she was nuzzling my neck with those amazing lips of hers. I felt it all over my body. Every touch of them against my neck and shoulder sent me as hard as a fucking torpedo. It was driving me crazy. She would only have to put them on my mouth and I would lose all self-control.
Jesus Christ.
“Why don’t you look at me like all those other girls?” she slurred, her head lolling about like one of those dog statues you see in the back of an elderly person’s car.
“Because you’re not like all those other girls.”
She frowned and I wondered if she was going to throw up again but she wriggled free to stand up. Which was a bit of relief because I needed to unlock the front door and was wondering how I was going to do it with her in my arms.
Once inside she saw the pool through the dining room window and twirled back towards me, excited.
“I want to swim!”
Which is just what you want to hear from someone who has a belly full of alcohol.
“Um, no … not a good idea, H-bomb,” I said throwing the keys, my wallet and cell phone into the bowl beside the front door.
Not that Harlow would ever listen to me. She had already made it across the dining room and was out on the patio before I caught up to her.
"Alcohol and swimming do not mix, Harlow. Let me get you some aspirin and put you to bed.”
But she wouldn’t listen to me. She loosened the knot in her hair and it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. Fuck, could she be any more beautiful?
She stood at the edge of the pool and cast a look at me over her shoulder, a small smile curled on her lips.
“Harlow—”
Water cascaded into the air as she dived in and resurfaced, laughing. “Oh my god, Heath … it’s beautiful!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re crazy!”
“Come in.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
When she stood up and looked at me, I swear to God she set my body on fire with that mere gaze. I drew in a deep breath. And I ignored the desperate need to walk into that water and gather her into my arms and walk out again. Because if I did, I would take her straight to my bedroom and spend the rest of the night fucking that need right out of my body.
She smiled and then nodded as she extended an arm to me. “Will you help me out?”
I knelt down and offered her my hand. Wet fingers curled around mine. Her eyes fixed mine and slowly her lips curled into a mischievous grin.
“Harlow—” I warned.
My words were drowned by the rush of water as she pulled me into the pool. When I surfaced she threw her arms around me and curled her long legs around my body.
Before I could stop her, her soft lips found my mouth and she kissed me. I wanted to stop. I really did. Because I knew she was drunk. But the most incredible lips were kissing me and her tongue filled my mouth and worked against mine in a kiss wild horses couldn’t drag me away from. It was so sweet, and so wet, and so I kissed her right back. And when she moaned, I moaned right back, taking it all in. The wetness of her mouth, the smooth glide of her lips, the soft gentle lap of her tongue against mine, the subtle grind of her hips as she pressed her legs tighter around my waist. It was killing my resolve.
Even lost in the bliss of her mouth against mine I could see those long legs wrapped tightly around me. Only the thin piece of fabric of her panties separated us and the thought made me dizzy. I was hard and I throbbed. And even as I was losing myself in that kiss and responding to the unsubtle language of her body, I knew I would have to stop.
But goddamn it … it was a war inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to pull off my jeans, rip the thin fabric of those panties and plunge deep into her.
I closed my eyes against the thought.
“Harlow … no …” I breathed hard. “You’re drunk.”
She was determined.
“I don’t care,” she said between her assaults against my mouth. Smooth hands cupped my jaw. Hips rocked against mine. Jesus, I could feel her grinding against me, against every part that mattered right now.
I breathed hard against the raging desire that tore through me.
“Harlow, let me take you inside.”
She pulled back, her beautiful face glimmering with tiny droplets of water. She cocked a brow.
“I want you to take me inside …”
I shook my head and if I wasn’t fighting a raging hard-on and a violent urge to be inside her, I would have smiled at how adorable and sexy she was.
“Let me put you to bed,” I said, trying hard to do the right thing.
“Yes. I want you to put me in your bed and show me what drives all the girls crazy for you.” She kissed my neck and I couldn’t stop the groan. Fuck. Me. She was making it hard on me.
“Baby …” The word slipped from my lips as she kissed them. “Not now. Not like this,” I whispered.
She fixed me with those amazing eyes. “Yes now. Yes, like this.”
I smoothed her wet hair from her forehead and looked into her perfect face. “Harlow, I don’t want to make love to you when you’re like this. When I make love to you, I want you to be sober and—”
She frowned. Her eyes rounded. “You don’t want to make love to me?” she slurred. She looked hurt and then brushed her lips against my throat. “Then don’t make love to me. Fuck me.”
Her words made me harder than I’d ever been in my life.
“Not when you’re drunk.”
Pulling back, she fixed me with dark, shiny eyes and released my neck from her grasp. She waded backwards a little and stood before me, suddenly shivering, her skin glistening with diamonds of water, the fabric of her dress clinging to her every perfect curve.
Her brows drew in sharply.
“Fuck you Heath!” she suddenly cried, flinging an arm out and letting it drop limply to her side. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you!”
Drunk Harlow had re-emerged and she was D.R.U.N.K.
She waded towards the edge and clumsily climbed out. “Fuck you. You fuck!”
Apparently she was attempting to see how many f-bombs she could fit into the one sentence. And she was going for gold.
She stumbled across the patio and slipped over, crashing to her knees. With a rush of water I leapt out of the pool and guided her to her feet.
“Don’t touch me.” She slapped my hand away. The hand I wasn’t using to help her up. Conveniently.
“Let me get you inside.”
She pushed me and took a wobbly step backwards, hugging her wet arms around her waist.
“Why not me?” she asked suddenly. “Why not me, Heath?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What’s wrong with me? You want everything with a pulse … except me …”
And then it dawned on me. What she was saying.
“Wait. You think I don’t want you?” I asked.
Was she really that blind?
She shivered and nodded, and I stepped towards her and took her by the shoulders. But she wouldn’t look at me. I turned her chin to me and she looked up at me with those large soft eyes. Her lashes were long and thick with droplets and her skin sparkled with diamonds of water. She shivered again and her chin quivered.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you, Harlow,” I said quietly.
She blinked and water trickled down her cheeks. “You want me?”
I nodded and ran the pad of my fingertips down her cheek. “More than you could ever know. But you are drunk. It’s not meant to happen this way.”
She closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. “I wish I wasn’t
.”
“Me too.”
She smiled up at me and pulled me closer by the belt loop of my wet jeans. “When I wake up tomorrow … I hope I remember this moment.”
“I doubt you will.”
“You’re probably right.” She reached around and held me, placing her wet cheek against my chest. “I think I’m in love with you Heath.”
“I think I might be in love with you too H-bomb.”
She pulled back and smiled up at me. But her smile suddenly faded and she abruptly pulled away, quickly disappearing behind a shrub to throw up.
I had to laugh at the irony. It was the first time I’d ever told anyone I might be in love with them.
And it had made her violently ill.
* * * * *
HARLOW
I had died and I was in hell.
Either that or I had been in some kind of terrible accident and was lying injured somewhere. Various scenarios skipped across my injured brain before I bit the bullet and braved opening my eyes.
Bright light flooded my vision and I quickly squeezed them shut again. Where the hell was I? And who had loosed the stampede of jackhammers on my brain?
I rolled over in search of a place where my brain would stop hurting and I found a cool spot. Settling into it, I waited for sleep to take me away on its soothing tides again. I felt warm. Relaxed. Content amongst the sheets. Feeling the softness of the fabric against my skin and the warm body beside me.
What the…?
My eyes flew open.
Holy hell!
I. Was. In. Heath’s. Bed.
With Heath.
Wearing nothing but an unfamiliar pair of boxer shorts and singlet.
Almost too afraid to move I peered under the sheet.
Oh thank God! Heath had his boxers on.
I snapped the sheet back down and turned my neck to see Heath smiling at me.
“See anything you like?” He grinned.
“Oh God,” I moaned, pulling the pillow over my face.
Desperately, I tried to recall the events of the previous night. Namely, how the hell had I ended up in Heath’s bed and did they include me having sex with my stupid ex-best friend? I rolled my memory back as far as it would go, but last night was nothing but a blur.
