by Jenny Hayut
He walks away.
What the hell? My words had no effect on him whatsoever.
No way I’m going home now. I’m not ready for my dreams to be controlled by those words, those eyes...those lips so close to my skin.
I’m dancing with Clay, swaying my hips in sync with his. He knows me well enough to know I’m only this brave when I’m smashed, which I am, terribly. He’s taking advantage of the moment because it’s such a rarity for me.
While Clay moves slowly with me, I can sense someone watching us. My skin is almost burning from the glare. I hope it’s Holt. I want him to see that I’m happy, living my life without him. That his presence has no effect on me at all. That he’s nothing but a distant memory. If only any of that were true. I tighten my arms around Clay and throw my head back, laughing as if he’s told me a joke.
I didn’t notice them come up, but two guys are now dancing with us. The one with the sexy green eyes and shaggy blond hair grabs my waist and pulls me away from Clay. I pull away from him for a second, but then I let my body take over. Let myself feel him, his closeness. The ridges of his chest are crushing my breasts.
He’s seriously hot, and I’m sure he knows it. My overanalyzing mind tries to butt in for a moment, wondering why the hell he’s dancing with me, but the I-don’t-give-a shit side of me wins out. We dance for a while, and I’m laughing with Clay beside me, as he dances with the other hot guy. He’s looking at Clay in such a suggestive way, like he wants to take him right there on the dance floor. They slowly inch themselves away from us, further into the shadows.
My senses come back to me a little, now that I’m alone with my hot guy. He strokes my ass and lifts me toward his hips, pulling my body into his.
I laugh, and try to play it cool. “I think I need to get off my feet a bit, but more, like, in a chair.”
He ignores me, and continues to grope my ass, smiling seductively at me.
“Really, I need a break.” I try to push myself away from him.
Hot Guy is suddenly yanked off me and gone. In a flash. Gone. My eyes follow his body as it’s thrown across the room, and standing over him is Holt.
He was watching.
I can’t hear what Holt is saying to him, but it’s clear he isn’t giving Hot Guy an opportunity to speak. Or get up.
Hot Guy, who suddenly doesn’t look very hot anymore, staggers up, glaring at Holt and looking as if he’s about to go at it with him. Instead, he walks away but then jerks back to Holt. “Fuck you, man. The bitch was having a good time.” His voice is loud—I can hear it across the room and over the music. He has the attention of the crowd.
Holt charges him, grabs his shirt, and raises him off the fucking floor. He rams his fist into Hot Guy’s face, and a gush of blood sprays in the air. After Holt releases him, Hot Guy falls to the floor. Knocked out cold. From one punch. Oh my God.
Hot Guy’s friend shows up out of the shadows along with Clay and takes a long look at what’s going on. “Fuck. Not again.” He walks over to Not So Hot Guy, pulls him up off the floor, and drags him in the direction of the door.
Clay walks toward me, his face white as a ghost. From the corner of my eye, I see Holt approaching me even faster with sheer rage all over his. He makes it to me first. I’m still shocked by what went down, so all I do is stand there, my heart racing, and stare. Seems that’s all I can do when Holt is around. Shit.
He grabs my arm and yanks me to his side.
When he roughly forces me into a walk, I try to pull away from him. “What are you doing? Let me go, damn it.”
Clay immediately rushes up behind us. “What the hell? Let her go, man.”
That intense feeling of heat returns, sending chills down my back. Holt jerks his head at Clay and growls, “Back the fuck up. Since you weren’t watching out for your woman and doing whatever the fuck it was you were doing over in the corner, I stepped in. That shit back there could’ve gotten a lot uglier. I stopped it before it did, so now I’m taking her home.”
Even in my state of drunkenness, I stop fighting and let Holt pull me along. His anger is pouring off him, and it scares the shit out of me. I’m afraid he may do to Clay what he did to Hot Guy on the dance floor, so I let him lead me out, past the open mouths of Cass and Ang.
“Fuck, Niki, come on.” Clay dodges in front of us. He pulls on my arm, and Holt tightens. His whole goddamn body tightens.
Think, Niki. Think fast. He’s going to hurt Clay.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m all right. I’ll handle it,” I say, even though I don’t know how the hell I really am.
Clay looks at me with confusion in his eyes.
I give him a reassuring nod, trying to convince him.
He slowly backs off to join Cass and Ang. They whisper to one another, watching us as we walk out. Together.
Chapter 5
Outside, alone with Holt, I panic. I need to find a way to break away from him, get back inside, where it’s safe. He’s directing me to his car, his hand still on my arm, burning it with his touch. I see it from the distance, the street light shining down on it, and my heart skips a beat. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see her again. Her because, in my mind, nothing that beautiful, and with those sexy curves, could be anything but a woman. She’s gentle, yet fierce, and I loved every inch of her.
She’s a 1967 Buick Special, and I’m elated to see that she’s still in the same condition as the last time I saw her. Not that it’s a shock—Holt takes painstaking care of her. With her cobalt blue and chrome exterior and her sleek alluring body, she’s pure muscle car. Sex on wheels. To this day when I hear “Radar Love” by Golden Earring, I think of her, with her speed and badass look.
Okay, so I’ll at least walk to his car, just so I can touch her. I can’t resist the urge. To be in the presence of her beauty again and not acknowledge her would be an insult. At least that’s what I’m convincing myself. I glide my hand along her fender, caressing her with the tips of my fingers. Just touching her excites me. It’s crazy how much I can get affected by a car.
“You always loved this car, didn’t you?” Holt whispers in my ear.
I jump at his sudden closeness.
“Get in.” He’s standing at the now-open door. Waiting.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” My liquid courage has returned.
“Get in the fucking car, Niki.”
This is the first time he’s called me Niki, and, honestly, I’m disappointed. I start walking away, back toward The Rox. He yanks my body to him, my back against his chest, and puts his hands tightly around my waist. My heart is in my throat.
He doesn’t speak; he just stands there with his arms around me, not allowing me to move. He leans in and puts his face in my hair, lifting one hand to slide strands between his fingers. I hold my breath. Is he shaking? No. That’s got to be me.
“Get in the fucking car.” He abruptly pulls his face away from me but doesn’t release his hold.
I raise my face to him, and the rage is there, in his eyes. I can’t control my shiver.
The words are about to boil over. I can feel them making their way up my throat, teasing my lips apart to scream at him, give him what he deserves. The words that are etched in the deepest parts of my soul, where they have lain dormant, like a festering disease. Waiting to rear up and show their ugly face like they always do at any sign of happiness. Such is my history with men after Holt.
“Nicolette, please get in the car.”
Though I’m taken aback at the sudden change in his temper, I see my opportunity to escape. “I’m going back to my friends and trying to pretend I didn’t see your face again. You can’t show up after three years of disappearing and think you can just tell me what to do. How could you seriously even think that, Holt? After how you left?
“I appreciate you stepping in and getting rid of that jerk in there, but I didn’t ask for it. Nor do I want to be out here with you right now. I only went with you to get you away from m
y friends, because I was scared you’d do the same to them as you did to him. Clay doesn’t deserve that. He was only looking out for me, and the thought of you hurting him had me in a panic.” I close my eyes and suck in a breath. “I don’t know you. I never did really, so I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
Those words, as I utter them, cut me deep.
“I don’t know what you’re doing right now. Why you’re here. Why you’re in my face.” I slowly begin to back away from him. “I can take care of myself, Holt. I don’t need you or want you around. I’m not that same naïve, eager girl you left that day. You made sure of that.”
Careful, Niki.
“When I saw you at the bar that night I didn’t think you even remembered me, the way you looked right past me. And I was good with that. I hoped you were just passing through. So, I’m going back in there now. Please don’t try and stop me.”
I’m so proud of myself for standing my ground, but I know it’s the alcohol, that without it, I would be hiding in a corner, away from him.
“The fuck you are!” he growls at me, with such immense anger that I start shaking again. “You’re drunk. Your friends weren’t looking out for you. That fucker in there is lucky I didn’t break his goddamn neck for touching you like he did. I knew you were watching me, so I fucking held back. Dug deep for that shit, babe.” His eyes, the way they are on me, slice into my skin. “I’m taking you home. That’s it. But if you don’t get in the fucking car right now, I’ll put you in myself, and I can promise you my hands will find themselves in places you may not want them to be.”
My mind is screaming at me to get as far away from him as I possibly can. My body, though—and the addiction I still have to him—react to his words. I’m still afraid he might hurt my friends, and so, my mind succumbs to my body. Instead of doing the safe thing, the sensible thing, I get in the fucking car.
Holt slides in beside me and starts her up. My thoughts race back to the last time I was here with him like this, watching him shift gears like he’s making love to a woman. It was an erotic sight to watch back then and my body, tingling all over, is showing me that nothing’s changed.
God, to be inside Sex on Wheels again. Bliss. The way the soft leather of the seats feels on my skin, and the engine rumbling beneath me. I fight back the arousal, but with Holt only inches away, the intensity is real. It’s taking hold of me, threatening to render me powerless. Christ.
“Seatbelt,” he demands, pulling me away from my thoughts.
I stare. I don’t move, and I’m about to protest again that I don’t want to go anywhere with him, but before I can speak, he moves. He closes in, within inches of my face, reaching over my body, the hardness of his chest pressed against mine.
His scent is in my face. Like a windswept drive with the windows down, with a hint of gunpowder and leather, intoxicating me even further. I panic. He’s going to kiss me, and if he does, I already know I’m not going to have the willpower to stop him. He’s looking intently into my eyes, but then he reaches past me for the seatbelt, latches it in then turns back to the wheel. I slowly and quietly release the breath I was holding.
We’re driving, and in the car is nothing but silence. Holt hasn’t said a word since pulling out of The Rox’s parking lot. He’s lit up a cigarette, and he’s smoking it, staring at the road in front of us. He doesn’t look relaxed as he smokes—his body is stiff and he looks uncomfortable.
No way in hell I’m talking. The alcohol is still whirling in my head, so I know anything I say would be too much truth. The silence is killing me, but I look out the window and do my best to remain calm and not speak. How the hell did I let all this happen? How do I go from dancing with Clay one minute, having fun, to being stuck in this car with Holt?
I haven’t been paying attention, and when I snap out of my thoughts, we’re pulling up at my building. He puts Sex on Wheels in park directly under our unit. How the hell does he know where I live? Cass and I were living in an apartment closer to the school when he left. It wasn’t until a year after he disappeared that we moved into the condo.
Before I get the chance to question him, he turns to me, seemingly a bit calmer. “Just so you know, you didn’t allow me to do anything. You were walking out of there with me whether you liked it or not. I would’ve picked you up and thrown you over my shoulder if I had to. Your man, or whatever the fuck he is to you, wasn’t watching out for you…and that he would give any other man a chance to dance with you or put their fucking hands on you tells me he doesn’t give a fuck about you, Nicolette. You deserve better than that shit.
“When you’re mine again, every man will know it, and the closest they’ll get to you is in their fucking head. And what kind of shit is this that you didn’t think I remembered you? Is that why you did what you did at the clinic? You almost had me believing you didn’t fucking remember me, and I came so fucking close to taking you right there in that room, to make you remember.”
A tremor rushes through me at his words, and a fire builds between my thighs. He’s so full of anger and lust and desire, I can feel it, but I don’t understand it. Has he got bored of Amber? Is he just settling for me, using me to occupy his time again?
“How dare you lecture me on what I deserve? I was never ‘yours,’ Holt. You. Left. Me. You didn’t call. You didn’t write. You. Just. Left. You come back now, after all this fucking time, and think you can just walk in and try to be my knight in shining fucking armor? Do you really think I’m that desperate, that needy, that stupid? Not going to fucking happen, Holt.”
Before I can think, before I can move, Holt is pushing his body against mine, trapping me. He crushes my mouth, capturing it with a hungry urgency. I instinctively try to push him off, but he’s stroking my lips with his tongue, forcing them to part. When he grabs the back of my neck, his kiss is deeper, and I spiral out of control. He owns me. It never left. Every inch of me is on fire. I don’t want this. I can’t want this.
I slowly wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more. Not thinking. Lost in the dreams that have haunted me for so long.
Damn it, Niki. Stop. Don’t let him have this.
My sense rushes back to me.
You can’t let him hurt you again. Stop, Niki. Stop.
Somehow, I find the strength to push him away. Moving quickly, I grab the door handle and jump out, running up the sidewalk, not looking back. After all the tears I’d shed for him, after everything he did to me, after all these fucking years, I still want him, and I just showed him. Pathetic.
Before I can make it to my door, I’m spun around. Holt has me in his arms. Inches away from his face, I can feel his breath on my skin. I’m trying my best to hold back my tears, to keep myself from succumbing to him. I’m screaming at myself to remember what it was like after he left, but all I can remember is his body, how it felt to be in his arms.
“You haven’t forgotten what we had, baby. I see it. Lie to me, lie to yourself, but I feel how your body reacts to me. You can fight it, but I know you’ll be back underneath me, begging me to fuck you again. You can’t know how much I want that right now. But there’s shit I need to explain to you. Things I should’ve told you a long time ago but couldn’t.
“I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I had to, and I’ve thought of you every single fucking day since. Couldn’t stay away. I tried. I know a lot of time’s gone by and things have changed, but I want you as much now as the day I left. That hasn’t changed. I know I got shit to say, to prove to you, but it’s happening, babe. You showed me that tonight as much as you tried to hide it. I know you. I know that body, how it feels with me. You know it too.”
My head is spinning, my body is still on fire from his kiss, his touch... I don’t how to respond, because I don’t understand. What could’ve made him have to leave? What about her? He hasn’t even mentioned that. Does he realize I know? Did he say the same shit to her when he came back to town? I can’t think straight. Some small part of me, somewh
ere, clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s telling the truth, that I should hear him out.
“Be ready tomorrow night at seven. I’ll pick you up, we’ll get something to eat, and talk.”
I hear myself say, “Okay.” No willpower. Deep down, I want to understand. I want to hear him say I’m not the reason he left.
“Cell.”
It takes me a moment to register that he’s asking for my cellphone. When I pull it out of my purse, I have five missed calls and a dozen text messages. Damn. Cass. I forgot my cell was on vibrate. She’s probably worried out of her mind. He grabs it and starts pushing buttons then pulls his out and does the same, asking me for my number. As he hands my phone back, our hands touch, electrifying me.
“My number’s in there, babe, and now I have yours.”
All that manages to escape my lips is, “Okay.”
Holt walks me the rest of the way to my door. Gone is the force and anger, replaced by the same gentleness he’d shown me when he used to caress my hair in bed, after he thought I was asleep. He takes my keys from my hands, unlocks my door, and then turns to me, inching his body up against mine again, causing me to back up to the wall.
He puts his arms on either side of me, caging me. He’s so close... He’s going to kiss me again. I can feel it, and I don’t have the strength to survive it. I’m already imagining leading him into the house, and into my bedroom.
Instead, he lifts my chin so I look directly at him. “I’ve missed you, baby, more than you can ever fucking know. Being around you like this does crazy shit to my head. You’ve got to know I would never hurt anyone who means something to you. If they get in my way, though, I can’t control that shit.” He brings his face in closer now, and I hold my breath. He gently touches his lips to my forehead then leans in to whisper in my ear, making the fine hairs stand up, “Goodnight, Nicolette. Sweet dreams, baby.”
He opens the door for me, and I walk in, turning back to glance at him as I stand in the doorway. “Goodnight,” I say, my voice trembling, as I slowly close the door.
