Unforgettable

by Shantel Tessier

  My pulse runs rapid as his thumb slowly strokes the side of my throat. My chest rises and falls quickly and I hold my legs as tightly together as I can.

  “Please,” I whimper and his body stiffens. “Let me up.”

  His body relaxes on top of mine and he lets out a chuckle. In the pitch black it makes him sound like the devil himself. As if I just sold my soul. Isn’t that what I did? I traded a night with him and lost more than I could imagine.

  “No,” he says simply.

  I narrow my eyes in the darkness. “No?” I repeat as I try to move my hands out of his vice-like grip. No luck.

  “I’m going to keep you here at my mercy.” His deep voice has turned soft and seductive. It brings back memories that I can’t suppress.

  His hand runs up my throat before he dips it behind my neck. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulls my head back. The sound that leaves my throat is of nothing I’ve never made.

  His lips touch my exposed throat and I breathe heavily as my eyes fall shut. His other hand reaches between my parted legs and his fingers slide across my wet lips. Roughly he pushes a finger into me and I scream at the unfamiliar feel of him being where no one else has ever been.

  Oh no. I try to calm my pants and the tingling between my legs. Please don’t do this to me. Not again. I can only handle so much. “Why?” I whisper as I squirm. My body is getting warmer and warmer by the second. He makes it crave things that I know he won’t give me again.

  His thumb makes its way slowly over my parted lips. It takes all my strength to not run my tongue over it and suck it into my mouth. I want to be sexy for him, for him to desire me. “Because you have been ignoring me for months. And I want to know why.”

  “Why?” I snap. His words finally help me feel anything but lust for him. “Don’t pretend to be stupid, Tate,” I huff, now mad at him.

  He sighs heavily. “Missy…” He clears his throat. “I’ve been trying to make it right.”

  I sigh. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.” I try to remove my wrists but his hand tightens around them. I ignore the feeling inside of my stomach. The feeling of want and desire. Just lean down and kiss me already. “Asking me about the weather, or making little comments here and there is not trying to make it right,” I hiss, mad at him. Mad at myself. But he doesn’t know the truth. I have to pretend that it’s the fact that he walked out on me after that night. But that’s only the beginning of it.

  “What do you want? An apology?” he growls as if just saying ‘I’m sorry’ is hard for him. “I’m…”

  “No,” I interrupt him. I don’t need an apology. I know how he feels about me. No apology could change that. “What I want is for you to get up off me and just to leave me the hell alone.” What I really want is for you to kiss me. Touch me. Remind me what it was like to belong to you. If only it was for one night.

  “Fine.” He lets go of my wrists and removes his hand from around my neck before he stands up.

  My body instantly feels cold with him no longer on top of me and I try not to whimper at the loss.

  I fail miserably.

  I squint as the light comes on, filling the room. Sitting up, I look up at him standing by the back door. His black shirt fits his large chest. His black leather jacket is on but unzipped. His worn-out jeans lay low on his narrow hips and his signature chain loops across his hip. His chiseled jaw looks tight and his dark blue eyes are hard as they stare down at me.

  He reaches up, running a hand over his unshaven face, and it reminds me of what that stubble felt like against my inner thigh. The scruff scraping across my sensitive skin. It had almost been too much to bear, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had pulled him on top of me. I needed him inside of me. I didn’t want to take it slow. I wanted him to take me like he would die if he had to wait another second.

  Tate is dangerous but that’s what drew me to him to begin with. He’s like the caged animal that will strike at any second. I was raised where people were soft spoken and hid their anger behind fake smiles and polite gestures. Tate says fuck the world. He is what society calls unacceptable; tattoos and a bad attitude. He’s what I call gorgeous.

  I can only explain my need for him as how I’d imagine an addict might feel. One drag of that last cigarette. One more drink of that liquid that makes you throw all inhibition out the window. People beg and steal in order to get their next fix. If I thought it would get me anywhere with him, I would crawl over to him right now and try them all.

  My eyes drop down to the bulge that still remains in his jeans and I lick my lips. I can clearly see the outline of his penis and my mouth waters for a taste of that perfection.

  “Missy,” he growls, making me jump.

  My eyes lift up to look at his and his jaw is tight, his dark blue eyes narrowing on mine. Then a smirk gracious his lovely lips. “Enjoy looking at my cock?” He arches a dark eyebrow.

  I lower my head letting my blond hair cover my red cheeks. I hate how words like that still affect me. I don’t want to be the young girl who can’t say adult words. I want to be confident and sexy. I want to arouse him by whispering what I want from him. It makes me sick to my stomach that I can’t be that way for him.

  I swallow my lust and stand up off the floor. Smoothing my shirt down and walking over to the back door, I speak. “Goodbye, Tate,” I say as flatly as my voice will allow, which isn’t much.

  He starts to walk toward me and he grabs a hold of the door. I think he’s about to walk out when he slams it shut and then turns to me. Before I can take a breath, I’m shoved back against the wall as he stares down at me.

  “Missy,” he breathes as he lowers his lips to mine and my heart breaks a little bit more.

  He’s drunk!

  I can smell the alcohol on his breath now that he’s this close to my

  face. Tequila. Nothing he says will matter to me. Nothing he does will mean anything. Tate’s different when he’s drunk.

  He’s into me.

  Come tomorrow, when he’s sober, he’ll try to talk about the weather once again and I’ll be the only one with the memory of tonight. I’ll be the one with the heartache.

  “Get away from me, Tate,” I say placing my hands on his hard chest and pushing him away. Screw him and screw my emotions that he makes me have.

  He takes a few steps back and chuckles. “You say one thing but mean another.”

  “What are you talking about?” I sigh, ready for this night to be over.

  He steps back into me and reaches up, running his knuckles down my cheek. His knuckles aren’t soft like Braxton’s. They’re rough and he has scars on some from his past. I like the feel of them better. “You tell me to leave. You say you want me to leave you alone.” He opens his hand and slides it to the back of my neck, holding it firmly and it makes my knees buckle. “Yet, when I was on top of you I could feel how much your body wants me. And you look at my cock as if you want to taste it.” His deep voice is a rough whisper and his hard, large body is pushing into mine.

  My breath quickens and my stomach knots up. Can he really see how much he still affects me? Can he see that even though he broke my heart I would still do anything to be with him?

  “You’re drunk,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re taking about.”

  His gives me a slow and cocky smile, one that very rarely appears on his beautiful face. Tate is known for his looks of hatred and anger. Not much can make him smile.

  His hand comes up and wraps in my hair. He pulls my head back as he lowers his lips to mine. Without even thinking I open for him to kiss me but he passes my lips and presses his to my ear. “I think about you all the time, Missy.” The hot breath makes me shiver and fight with everything I have to not moan at his confession. “I dream about having you again.” His body presses against mine and I can feel his arousal behind his jeans press into my lower stomach. His free hand runs up my jeans before he cups my ass.

  I take in a deep breath trying to slow my heart rate and g
et myself under control. I fist my hands down by my sides and close my eyes tightly trying to fight the tears that I feel coming. How can he do this to me? I swallow the lump in my throat. “Stop,” I whisper trying not to reveal the brokenness in my voice.

  “That’s not what you say in my dreams.” His tongue comes out and licks softly before he nibbles on my ear.

  I can’t hold back the whimper this time as my body starts to go limp in his hands. “I miss you, Missy. I miss you so fucking much.” His voice is laced with pain and lust.

  I open my eyes and the tears that I tried to hold back run down my cheeks. My body remembers how it felt to be his that one night and it begs for that chance again. But I won’t tell him I miss him. I won’t allow myself a moment of weakness. I’ve worked too hard and come so far since that night to tell him how much he destroyed me. How it took me months to get back to feeling like myself again. How much I lost from that one night. I want to, but I won’t. Because he won’t remember it tomorrow. He probably won’t even remember being here tonight.

  “Do you miss me?” he asks now running his nose down my neck.

  I look up to the ceiling trying to get my eyes to dry. “You don’t have to lie to me, Tate.” I clear my throat and ignore his question.

  He pulls back and looks down at me. His hands go to either side of my face, and he wipes the tears away. I wish he could wipe the memories away. I’ve worked so hard to forget them, even invented a whole new me. But they come crashing back like a wave on a shore. Suffocating me. Drowning me until I have no option but to give up the fight and let it take me under.

  “I’m not lying.” He leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips. I stiffen as I refuse to kiss him back. I need air to breathe as I drown, and that’s not what he’s offering right now.

  He pulls back and looks down to me with those dark blue eyes. He slowly runs a hand down my throat and my skin tingles from the notion. “You’re the best mistake I ever made.”

  I close my eyes and a sob racks my body.

  Mistake!

  That’s all I’ll ever be to him.

  “Say something,” he demands softly.

  “What do you want me to say?” I whisper keeping my eyes shut.

  He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him.

  “I want you to give me something.” He leans down and his lips brush my shoulder. “I want you to tell me that I haven’t lost you.”

  I open my eyes and look up at him. “Haven’t lost me?” This time he doesn’t wipe the tears away as they run down my cheeks. He just stares into my eyes as I try to make sense of how my night ended up like this.

  I swallow nervously and then let my thoughts be heard. “You walked away, Tate. You were the one that I lost,” I all but cry out.

  “It’s better that way, Missy. You deserve something better,” he says and his brows crinkle as if it confuses him to have to explain that.

  “Does it even matter what I want?” I ask angrily.

  He shakes his head as he looks down at me.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and wipe the tears from my eyes. “I gave up.” My voice is weak, and it makes me want to scream.

  His eyes darken as he looks at me. “Did you hear me? I said I gave up after Vegas. Why are you here now, Tate?” I beg. When he just stares down at me, I continue. “I can’t do this anymore.” It sounds like I’m begging. Like I’m daring him to tell me that he wants to try. That the thought of being without me is too much for him.

  He stares at me for a few seconds before he takes my heart and rips it out for a second time. “That’s for the best, Missy. We were never meant to be more than what happened in Vegas.”

  How can he touch me the way he just did? How can he say those words to me, yet deny me once again? I want to slap him. I want to throw something at the wall. But instead, I let the tears fall down my cheeks, and I push him away from me. He doesn’t protest as he takes another step back from me. Slowly, I take in a deep breath as he starts to walk to the back door to leave.

  “I’m sorry it’s over,” he whispers and I try to take in a deep breath. I know he means our friendship. But I can’t help but think he means more.

  “It never even started,” I whisper. “You never even gave me a chance to show you that I can be something you might want.” I hate it! I hate him! I’m breaking down like an idiot.

  “Missy…” his voice cracks. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve someone like you.”

  I turn around and look at him. He actually looks like he’s sad. Like he regrets that he broke my heart. “I don’t know what happened to make you see so little of yourself but you’re right.” His body stiffens at my words. I’m tired of being the only one hurting here. “I deserve someone who actually wants me. And believes that I’m worth something more than a one-night stand.”

  He fists his hands down by his side. “I would have never…”

  I raise my hand, getting angry. “I get it,” I snap. “If you would have known I was a virgin you wouldn’t have touched me,” I say with my voice rising. “But you did. Grow up and get over it. It was only sex for Christ’s sake. Quit acting like it was something important. It meant nothing to you and nothing to me. It was just a drunken fuck,” I scream as hot tears run down my face as I speak of that night. The lie hurts more than I thought it would. Like I just stabbed myself in the heart.

  He just stands there and looks down at me with hard blue eyes and I swallow the lump in my throat. “I already told you. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye, Tate.” I go to the door but he grabs me and spins me around.

  “You don’t think it kills me to see you with Braxton?” he asks with a bite to his words. “Do you really think I don’t want you?” he asks as his voice rises.

  I throw my hands out to my side. “I don’t know what to think.” I shake my head and look down to the floor. I watch my tears fall to the floor. “You want me. You don’t want me.” I look up at him. “Please just do what you did before?” I beg of him. When he continues to just stand there and look at me, I point to the back door. “Just walk out the door and don’t look back.” My words are broken and my chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.

  I close my eyes, trying to hide my fear, my brokenness. I don’t want to watch him walk away again.

  I smell his muscular scent and tequila before I feel his body against mine. He leans down and places a soft kiss to my forehead. Then I feel my body go cold as he pulls away from me. I flinch when I hear the back door shut, indicating he did exactly as I asked. Without even opening my eyes, I fall to the floor and place my head in my hands as I cry my eyes out.

  ***

  I stand in Sam and Slade’s kitchen sipping on a Long Island that Sam made me as I look around the beautiful home that they built together. I’ve been looking forward to this party all day. I went home and continued to cry my eyes out last night after Tate left the bakery. I couldn’t get to the alcohol fast enough. I still have no idea what he was doing there, and I haven’t spoken a word of it to anyone. Sam keeps asking me what’s wrong but I just tell her it’s Braxton. I really need to quit lying. News travels so fast in this group of friends. Sam knows I was the one who broke up with him so I don’t know why she would believe that I’m upset over it. But for now she seems to be buying it.

  I’ve tried to be cheerful tonight. It is my birthday after all. I called my mother and had lunch with her today. I then went over to my parents’ house before I came over to Sam and Slade’s house. My dad had asked me about school and thankfully my mother covered for me. I think she knows that I have enough on my plate, and she doesn’t want me to go back to ignoring them.

  I look up from my drink and scan the kitchen one more time.

  Tate hasn’t shown!

  Did you expect him to? I ask myself before I take a long drink from my straw.

  I guess I thought he would. I thought that he was the type of guy who never did what others asked of him. I
halfway expected him to show up with a beautiful woman under his arm and a smug smile on his face. Just to rub it in my face what I can’t have.

  My phone lights up in front of me on the counter signaling I have a message. I set my drink down and pick it up.

  Kat: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BITCH!!!

  I let out a little laugh. Katherine is the girl who had told my mother I quit school. We had a class together. I wouldn’t say we’re best friends—we don’t hang out or anything—but she will text me every now and then.

  Me: Thank you.

  I respond and then place my phone back down on the counter before I pick up my drink and take another sip as I look around the kitchen and dining room.

  “What are you doing in here?” Holly asks as she enters. “Everyone has been looking for you.” She smiles as her black bob bounces. Holly is a sweetheart as much as Sam is. She married Slade’s younger brother about a year ago and welcomed me into their group with open arms. “We were about to start searching the bathrooms.”

  I laugh and lift my drink up in the air. “Not yet. This is my first one.” And it’s still more than half full.

  She loops her arm into mine. “Well, then, you need to get to drinking faster. Come on.” She starts to drag me out of the kitchen. “Josh wants to play beer pong.”

  “Geez, last time I lost. Big time.”

  “There’s the birthday girl,” Slade shouts as I enter his man cave.

  I giggle as I see all the balloons hung from the ceiling and the birthday banner hanging in front of the minibar. There’s also a dozen red roses in a beautiful pink vase over by the fireplace. I’m so thankful to have them all as my friends. “So,” Josh, Courtney’s husband, comes over to me and throws his arm over my shoulder. His dusty brown hair falls, covering his eyes, and he shakes his head to the side to push it away. “Ready to lose to me again, little lady?” he asks with a smile.

  I nod before tossing back another drink of my Long Island. “Bring It.”