Love Undiscovered

by Denise Wells

  “It wasn’t a mistake, Helen. It was multiple mistakes. Over months of time. And I’m not even counting your psychotic behavior afterward. You were… You know what, I don’t fucking care.” I turn to walk away. Turning back again once it hits me. “Oh my God, that’s why Remi’s pissed. Did you tell her that we were married?” I ask.

  “I might have mentioned I was your wife.” She steps into me and runs her hand down my chest.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  Helen moves her hand farther down and tries to cup my cock.

  I knock her hand away and then raise mine to her.

  “You—”

  “Baby—”

  “Don’t even, Helen, just don’t.”

  I can’t believe how pissed she makes me.

  I want to fucking throttle her.

  It’s the closest I’ve ever come to hitting a woman. I’m so pissed off I don’t even know what to say to her.

  “What the… you’re… FUCK.” I can’t even formulate a sentence.

  I turn to leave before I do something I’ll regret.

  I need to find Remi. She’s the only thing that matters right now.

  I don’t see her anywhere around the stage, and the guys are still going strong, so I can’t ask them. I check with the guard at the hall, he confirms that she went back about five minutes ago. I check every room back there and don’t find her anywhere. I don’t find her in the parking lot either. I try calling her again as I walk back toward the main floor of the bar.

  Which is when I hear her phone ringing behind a closed door. I stop to listen, and hear her crying and saying, ‘fuck you, phone.’

  “Remi?” I knock on the door as I say her name.

  “Go away.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  “Please.” I rest my palm against the door and hang my head.

  She doesn’t answer me.

  “I’m not married, Remi. Not even close.” I lean against the door, trying to get closer to her.

  She remains silent.

  “Did she say we were married?”

  Silence.

  “We aren’t. We never were. I’d like to explain, but I need you to open the door.”

  The sounds of the band echo in the hall.

  “Remi. Please.”

  “Why does she think you were married?” she asks after a minute.

  “We were engaged. I called it off. She was… cheating,” I say, reverting back to one of my original tall tales where Helen was concerned.

  She unlocks the door but doesn’t open it. I turn the knob and enter slowly, not sure what to expect. She’s sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, dabbing at her eyes.

  “I’m not crying,” she says.

  “I can tell,” I say with a small laugh.

  “Fuck you,” she says. “I’m not crying. It’s just allergies or PMS. There’s dust everywhere in this fucking place.”

  “I believe you.” Even though I can clearly see she’s crying. But if she says she’s not, then that’s what I’m going with for now.

  I kneel in front of the toilet and place a hand on the outside of each of her shoulders, then wait until she looks up at me.

  “Your eyes are red,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Like I told you—”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I was just trying to tease you.” I smile to show I’m serious about teasing.

  “Don’t tease me about crying. I don’t cry.”

  “Ok.” I run the back of my hand along her cheek and use my thumb to catch some of the tears that are clearly not there. Since she doesn’t cry.

  “Helen and I were engaged.”

  “Helen.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s an awful name,” she says with a bitter laugh.

  “For an awful person.”

  “Yeah.” She blows her nose. I take the used tissue from her and throw it away, then hand her a fresh one to use. She dabs at her eyes again.

  “She cheated on me. Countless times. I didn’t find out until two weeks before the wedding.”

  Remi meets my eyes again, a horrified expression on her face. “I’m so sorry, Chance. That must have been horrible for you.”

  “It happens,” I say. “I’m over it now, but at the time I was devastated. At the betrayal and at the loss of what I thought was going to be an idyllic life.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “You wait until now to tell me,” I say dryly.

  She laughs softly, then asks, “Did you sing to her?”

  “I did, a couple times.”

  “Did you sing that song to her?” Her voice is almost shy.

  “What song? The one I sang to you?”

  She nods.

  “No. I’ve only ever dedicated that song to you.”

  She nods her head and seems to accept my answer.

  I’m relieved.

  I don’t want her to be angry. And I definitely don’t want her thinking that the song I sang to her is my move or something. One step closer to salvaging the evening after Hurricane Helen blew in.

  “She’s really pretty,” she says.

  “She doesn’t hold a candle to you,” I say.

  She scoffs. “You have to say that, you’re here in the bathroom with me.”

  “Let’s get out of the bathroom, I’ll say it again.”

  She giggles.

  “I like making you laugh,” I admit.

  “I like it when you make me laugh.” She seems to soften toward me a bit.

  Thank God.

  “Do you promise it’s over?” she asks, looking so vulnerable I want to say anything to make her feel whole again.

  “It never even began.”

  I take her hand in mine and we leave the bathroom. As we walk down the hall, she swings our joined hands between us. A lighthearted move that is wholly unexpected. I like it.

  We can still hear the band from back here, and I stop her and pull her into my arms. “Dance with me?”

  “Here? Now? To this song?”

  The guys are finishing up with “Old Time Rock-n-Roll.” But I know what they plan to play next.

  “No, this one,” I say just as we hear the opening strains of “We’ve Got Tonight.”

  “Hey,” she says with a smile. “We danced to this before.”

  “You remember?”

  “Of course I do.”

  I sing softly to her as we dance. The words are eerily biographical. So much so, that I feel like I’m confessing to her, asking of her, expecting from her; all at the same time.

  She looks up at me. “I think I’d like you to take me home now.”

  I try to swallow the disappointment that fills me when she says that. I don’t want the night to end so soon. I mean, I didn’t expect that she’d take me home with her tonight, but I would’ve liked to spend a few more hours with her. Not that I can blame her though, it’s been a bit of an emotional roller coaster. If I were her, I’d probably want to go home too.

  “Ok,” I say, softly.

  “With you,” she adds.

  My heart literally jumps into my chest.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, hoping I heard her correctly.

  She nods, then stretches up to kiss me.

  Oh yeah, I’m the man!

  A kiss that quickly turns heated. My mouth leaves her lips and she moans as I trail them down her collarbone. I want at those luscious tits, but I can’t get her shirt to move more with just my mouth and I don’t want to let go of her ass yet. If I weren’t feeling so frenzied, it would be funny.

  I move back up to her mouth and angle my head, so her lips are back against mine. Her tongue dives inside my mouth, dueling for control. I snake one hand under her shirt and up her side to grab her breast. She moans into my mouth. A sound that just fuels the fire inside me.

  I want at all of her. I can’t keep my hands still, they are at her ass, her head, in her hair, pushing up her bra, getting at her
bare breast.

  “My God, Remi.”

  I can’t decide what I want my hands on most. Ass. Tit. Ass. Oh, definitely ass. I grab it and pull her up against me, kneading her cheeks through her jeans, aligning her core with my hard cock.

  I back her into the dressing room for the band and kick the door shut behind us. We stumble to the couch and fall on to it, I flip us as we go down so that it’s her falling on to me and not the other way around.

  “That was a smooth move, Mr. Bauer,” she breathes against my lips.

  I want to think of something witty to say back to her, but my brain is rattled. I reach up to smooth back her hair so I can see her face.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asks with a wicked glint in her eyes. She leans in and bites my lower lip, pulling it away, then letting it snap back. I nod in response, I am literally stupefied by this woman. I pull her in for another kiss. She wiggles her hips in between my legs, I groan as she connects with my cock. I’ve got one leg bent with my foot on the ground for balance, the other I wrap around her leg to hold her in place. My hands reconnect with her ass and somehow I find my voice.

  “Fuck, Remi. I’ve had dreams about this ass. So fucking luscious.” I squeeze it as I’m talking.

  She raises her head to look at me and giggles again. Then turns serious. “What kind of dreams? What did you do to my ass?” She traces her fingernail along my lips as she says this. My dick jumps in my pants. She feels it too.

  “Was that you thinking about my ass?”

  All I can do is nod, back to being hypnotized by this goddess on top of me. My hands grind her hips against mine, using her ass as a handle. I’m pretty sure I could blow my load just from this.

  She leans down and licks my ear. “Do you want to fuck my ass?”

  Fuck me.

  “Not just your ass, beautiful,” I say, my voice husky and hoarse.

  “I think I’d like that,” she says, moaning.

  “Can I touch you?”

  “God, please.”

  I unbutton her jeans and slide down the zipper, then slide my hand down the back of her jeans to cup her from behind. Her thong is soaked.

  “You’re wet, Remi, you’re so wet. Is that for me?”

  She nods.

  “Fuck, Remi.” I slip a finger inside of her, she arches against me, whimpering.

  “That feels so good,” she says, her voice deep. “Please don’t stop.” Her breathing gets heavier as she fucks my fingers.

  Goddamn, she can move her hips.

  I bring her lips back to mine and deepen the kiss until I make myself dizzy.

  “Oh God, I can’t, I can’t, holy shit balls, Chance,” she cries into my mouth.

  I slide another finger inside her and curl them slightly while pumping them in and out.

  She’s close, I can feel it. Her body is so fucking responsive. I crook my fingers and add pressure to her clit at the same time. She cries out into my mouth as she orgasms. Her muscles clamp down around my fingers. Her body tenses and shakes as she rides it out. Her inner muscles still tightly closed around my fingers. I keep pumping my fingers in and out while she screams through what I’m pretty sure is a second orgasm.

  Yes!

  I place my thumb back over her clit finding deep satisfaction when she comes yet again. Her entire body tightens, and I watch as the pleasure overtakes her, drowning her cries in my kiss. Her muscles relax bit by bit, and she buries her head in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily.

  “Holy fucking multiples, Batman,” she says. “Jesus Christ. Chance Bauer. Where have you been all my life?”

  I pull my hand from her pants and hug her to me, keeping one hand outside her jeans on her ass and the other on the bare skin at the small of her back. Loving the feel of her on top of me, with her face snuggled next to mine. Loving her reaction to my touch. Loving more that I could give that to her.

  We fit, her and I.

  Her breathing slows, and she raises her head and laughs. “Oh my God, that was so fucking amazing,” she says. “You, my friend, have magic fingers.” She kisses me on the lips, then the nose, then each of my eyes, and back to my lips. “I may worship you forever for that. That was just. Wow. Thank you.”

  She starts to scoot down on my body.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m returning the favor,” she says with a wicked smile, her hands undoing the button of my jeans.

  “Come here, beautiful,” I say pulling her back up toward me. “I didn’t do that so you would reciprocate. I did that because I wanted to touch you. I wanted to feel you and do something just for you.” I reach between us and button her pants and zip them back up.

  “Well, now I want to do something just for you,” she says, her tone seductive.

  “Believe me, there is nothing more than I want than to see those red lips wrapped around my cock. But not here, not like this. The guys will be back any second—”

  As if on cue, the door swings open and the guys barge in.

  “Whoa,” Carter says. “Sorry, man, didn’t realize.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “We’re decent.”

  Remi pushes herself up, using my chest for leverage, which just serves to remind me that my dick is hard and my balls are blue.

  “Dude,” Trace says. “Still trying to live the rock star lifestyle I see.” He winks at Remi.

  Remi moves off me on the couch. I sit up next to her but pull her back on my lap. She kicks her shoes off and curls right up, like she’s been doing it forever.

  “Beer or water?” Chad asks.

  “Water,” both Remi and I say. He hands us each a bottle. And we spend the next hour talking and joking, like it hasn’t been years since I’d seen these guys, and it’s the most normal thing in the world. Remi excuses herself to go to the restroom.

  Which is good, I need a minute to talk to the guys without her in the room.

  I turn to Taylor since he knew Helen the best. “How long has Helen been coming to the gigs?”

  “Dude, Helen was here?” he asks, a frown on his face.

  “Yeah, and she told Remi we were married.”

  “Remi didn’t believe her, did she?” Trace asks.

  “She did believe her, we just had it out.”

  “Yeah, you almost had something out,” Chad jokes.

  I throw my empty water bottle at him.

  “Sorry, dude. You know that bitch has always been crazy, man,” Chad says, shaking his head.

  “Seriously don’t know what you saw in her,” Carter says.

  “True words, brother,” Trace adds.

  “You guys wait until now to tell me?” I ask.

  They all kind of look at each other and nod or say yes.

  “It’s not like we could tell you when you were about to marry her,” Taylor says.

  “Okay, I get that. I think. But what about after I left her?” I ask. They all kind of look at each other. As though they aren’t sure if they should say anything. Then they do.

  “You went under, man. First emotionally, then, like, literally. We didn’t even know where you were.”

  I nod in understanding. I mean, how do you explain behavior like Helen’s to anyone. I can barely believe it myself half the time. But before I can say anything more, Remi comes back into the room, she looks tired. I take that as my cue.

  “Gentlemen,” I say.

  “What’d we tell you about that word?” Chad asks.

  I look at him. “If you assholes don’t mind.”

  Chad nods as though that is the more agreeable word to use when addressing him.

  I continue, “I’m going to take my lady home and tuck her in.”

  They all take turns hugging Remi goodbye and making her promise to come visit them on the road. It makes me wonder if Remi would do a road trip like that with me. Then I have to snicker, because the idea of Remi on the back of my bike for hours at a time, followed by sleeping in a tent on the ground, is laughable. She needs a plush car and a
hotel with room service.

  The guys and I promise to keep in touch, and before I know it, Remi and I are in the parking lot and standing in front of my bike. I get her bundled up in her jacket and helmet, then help her on behind me.

  She scoots up close to me, then wraps her arms around me, and tucks both hands up under my shirt against my bare skin.

  As I stand slightly to start the bike, she slips one hand into the waistband of my jeans.

  “You’d better watch your hands woman, unless you’re looking to create an early death by motorcycle crash for us both,” I say, my voice husky.

  She giggles. “I won’t do anything, I’m just keeping my hands warm.”

  I grab her hand from my waistband and raise it to my mouth to kiss the back of it. “I’ll have to get you some gloves. Which is not to say that I don’t like your hands in my pants. ‘Cause I do.”

  Which is why when she tucks her hand back in the waistband of my pants a short while later, all I can do is smile.

  Chapter 24

  Remi

  I’m getting used to the motorcycle. Granted, it’s only the second time I’ve ever been on one, and both times have been with Chance. But it’s kind of an exercise in letting go; you have to move with the bike, or with the driver of the bike. And you don’t really have a choice. There’s no doors or roof to insulate you, no handle to hold on to in a corner, no windows to roll up or down.

  During the ride home, I remind myself just how much I trust Chance. To tell me the truth, to not be married, to not break my heart. And I obviously trust him physically, with my life, on the back of a motorcycle. I feel safe with him. And that is a really stark difference from the way I’ve felt with any other man before. Plus, I’ll definitely get my money’s worth on these jeans if I have to keep seeing him for a month.

  A month.

  Then we’re done.

  The thought of not seeing him again after the month is done makes me feel hollow and cold. As if he can sense my mood change, Chance puts his hand over mine and runs his thumb lightly over the back, then squeezes gently before returning it to the handlebar at a corner. I miss his hand when it’s gone.

  Miss his hand!

  God, what am I thinking?

  Stay strong, Remi.

  This is Chance Bauer. Player extraordinaire. He wanted to sleep with Kat for fuck’s sake. Although, I’ve wanted to sleep with Kat too, so I can’t blame him there. But, if the fact that it’s Chance is not bad enough, then I need to remind myself that it’s a bet. A bet that I can’t afford to lose.