Embody (Full Circle #1)

by S. E. Hall

  The band is good, playing mostly originals, and the members…not exactly painful to look at, not one bit. But when the bassist, who could be Brandon Flower’s muscled-up twin, switches to a double-neck electric guitar and starts the opening bars of ‘Love Song’ by Tesla, I sit up pin straight from the crazy tingle zinging up my spine.

  This song has always been one of my absolute favorites, and if that sexy guy who can play multiple instruments starts singing it, I may lose all decorum.

  Oh shit, after he fingers his way through the long intro flawlessly, he does sing it, in an all-man, raspy voice of the gods. Forget people watching, right now my eyes see only him.

  “Got ya another,” Marshall stumbles into the table, splashing the drink on it.

  “Sshh,” I hiss, shooing him away.

  “Well, excuse me,” he laughs then downs two more shots, if I’m counting correctly from my periphery, and disappears again.

  I sway to the rest of the song, closing my eyes a few times to focus solely on the way his voice massages the lyrics, then open them and jump out of my seat to applaud wildly when he’s finished.

  “Like that, did ya?” he smirks and asks into the mic.

  Everyone screams their yes…but he asks again. And I think…he asks me.

  No, couldn’t be. I jerk my head left, right, then do a full spin to see who he’s talking to, but it’s just me tucked in this corner.

  “Yes, you.” His sexy, baritone laugh resonates through the air and vibrates me to my core. “Cutie in the corner. Did you like that?”

  My cheeks flame and my mouth goes dry, yet somehow, I manage to nod.

  “I’m glad,” he winks at me. “Pick a song, Cutie.”

  Everyone in the entire bar is staring at me, I can feel it, but I keep my gaze trained solely on him. “Um…” I search my mental Rolodex for another favorite that might possibly fall in what I perceive as their “genre,” and finally come up with one. “Never Tear Us Apart?” I more ask than answer.

  “Oh yeah,” he growls in an octave of pure sin and gives me a cocky grin. “Some INXS, excellent choice. Come up here where I can really sing it to you,” he slowly curls his finger at me, turning up the seduction in the crooked curl to his mouth.

  Marshall must’ve spiked my drink and that first sip I took is taking effect, because there’s no way this is actually happening. Things like this don’t even happen to special people, let alone humdrums like me.

  So I have to be imagining my tentative steps toward the stage. Hallucinating the gorgeous guy squatting down, hand out, waiting for me. Hearing voices rather than the lead singer really saying, “Well folks, guess I’ll pick up the bass since Zeke here sees something he likes and is taking over.”

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” He leans into me, his silky baritone caressing my ear, his thumb rubbing my wrist.

  “B…Bellamy,” I stammer quietly.

  “Of course it is,” he chuckles softly. “Not an ordinary thing about you. I’m going to sing your song, beautiful Bellamy, and you’re gonna wait for me after the show. Deal?”

  Once more, all I can manage is a nod, and he laughs at that. “So damn sweet,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip as he runs his eyes the length of me. “See you soon.”

  He kisses my knuckles then stands, counting off the song I chose to his bandmates.

  It’s a full body experience—his serenade. He should be the lead singer all the time, his voice a deep, gritty phenomenon. His dark eyes, locked on me, hold an intensity that demands your full attention. I’m mouthing the words along with him, lost in a once-in-a-lifetime haze, when I’m almost knocked off my feet, literally.

  “Look at you,” a very drunk, bobbling Marshall screams in my ear. “I didn’t know I was coming with the chosen one. Can you hook me up to meet the band?”

  My guess is gonna be no, if judging by the scathing glare Zeke is giving him. Marshall bumps me again and I turn to grab both his arms and steady him. “Easy there, Grace. How much have you had to drink?” I ask.

  “Dunno,” he makes some sloppy movement I think is meant to be a shrug and laughs. “Guess I should’ve eaten. Why’s it matter?”

  I let go of him, kinda hoping he does fall now. “You were my ride home, remember? Just,” I push him away, “lemme enjoy the rest of the song.”

  I look back up and get a crooked smile and nod from Zeke—I think he approves of the shove I gave Marshall.

  After they finish my choice, Zeke goes back to the bass and I point to my table, mouthing that I’m gonna sit back down. This up-close mosh pit isn’t for me.

  Back in my chair, I rack my brain on how I’m gonna get home, when an eerie sense of scrutiny raises every hair on the back of my neck.

  “You ‘bout ready to go?” A husky, almost angry sounding voice behind me causes me to shriek and jolt in my seat. Then just as suddenly, I take a calming breath and sigh in relief. May have taken me by surprise for a second—but I know that voice.

  I peek over my shoulder and sure enough, there he stands, leaned casually up against the wall with his arms crossed.

  “Hey Jefferson, what are you doing here? You wanna sit down?” I motion to the empty stool.

  “Why do you call me Jefferson?” he asks, declining my invite to sit.

  “Because it’s your name?”

  “Everyone calls me JT and you know it,” he steps toward me. “I’m not saying I don’t like it, but why do you do it? The real reason.”

  I exhale weightily and decide to go with the truth. Might as well. This has already been the craziest night I’ve ever experienced. “Because no one else does.”

  “And you wanted to be different with me, just like that?” He advances a couple more steps, now standing right in front of me, blocking my view of the stage.

  “I guess so, I’m not sure.”

  “Yes you are,” the corner of his mouth slowly curls up and a certain delight shines in his eyes.

  “Awful weird conversation we’re having here. Are you drunk too?” I don’t smell alcohol on him, only male potency and crisp cologne.

  “Awful weird night. I’m told you’re a shy recluse, not a party girl, yet I find you in a bar, letting band boy croon to you while he eye fucks ya. I haven’t drunk at all, dead sober and confused as hell why you’re here. And who’s that drunk douchebag you’re here with?”

  “Just a guy that’s gonna be in my Sociology class. I’m actually here doing required observation for an upcoming assignment. And I have no idea what happened with Zeke. Nothing like that ever happens to me.”

  “Zeke? You know is name?” He sneers with severe mockery and condescension.

  “Well yeah, now. His bandmate said it.” I dip my head, embarrassed of the impression he must have of me—some star-struck groupie, which I’m anything but.

  He slides his finger under my chin and lifts my face to look at him. His dark brown eyes edged with something I can’t quite name, yet makes me feel ashamed on collision. “What did he say to you?”

  And as usual, what seems to be all I can ever say to him, the truth pops out. “He said I was so damn sweet and asked me to wait for him after the show.”

  “No fucking way in hell is that happening,” he snaps with palpable ferocity. “How were you planning on getting home?”

  “I was supposed to ride with Marshall. The…um…drunk douchebag.”

  “That’s not fucking happening either. He’s sloshed and not worth a shit at looking out for you. I’ll give you a ride home, let’s go.” He reaches for my hand, but I balk.

  “Hold up just a damn minute, bossy. Who says I’m ready to leave? And you can’t tell me I’m not allowed to wait around for Zeke. I said I would.” I tilt my chin up and cross my arms in blatant defiance.

  He bends, his lips grazing my ear. “Guess who owns fifty-one percent of this bar, Bellamy?”

  When I remain silent, except for my audible, heavy breathing that can only be blamed on his very close proximity, he answers himself wi
th a trace of subdued amusement. “My Uncle Sawyer. You’re gonna leave with me so I know you got home safe or one call and I’ll have this whole motherfucker closed in thirty minutes. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Fine,” I surrender with a cool bitterness, ready to go home but not a fan of being told what to do, and head for the door. “But only because my DD is soused.”

  I stop at the door and turn, waiting for him to raise his eyes from my ass to my face. When he does, I put some extra sass in my grin. “By the way, anyone who owns half this bar and has the good sense God gave a goose would know…roosters don’t have nests!”

  Take that Bossy Pants.

  Nine

  JT

  I GO TO a bar to get my mind off the strictly prohibited, innocent girl of my every fantasy as of late, and lo and behold—there she is. With a drunk for a fucking designated driver and being publicly seduced by a musician with a God complex no less.

  My blood is boiling, but lucky for her she agreed to leave with me, and as I manage to gently help her into the front seat of my car, I immediately start to feel less homicidal. And shout-out to “my gut”…I knew there was a reason I waved to Sutton as the cab pulled off and insisted on driving myself tonight.

  So much is going on in my head right now, I can’t decide what I want to discuss with her first. I get behind the wheel and just sit there, taking deep breaths, causing me to inhale her sweet scent…which is doing anything but helping me organize my thoughts.

  If I’m too much of a “playboy” for her, then she damn sure has no business waiting around for a wanna-be rock star. What the hell was she thinking?

  “Jefferson,” she shakily whispers. “I really appreciate the ride home, but I think you might have to start the car to accomplish that.”

  “Dammit!” I slam both hands on the wheel, as frustrated as I can ever remember being.

  Bellamy flinches, no doubt scared by my lunatic behavior. “What, what’s wrong?” she asks in clear panic.

  “Where should I start?” I scoff, then gentle my voice to admit and release some of what’s bothering me. “I like the way you say my name, my real name. Your subtle sarcasm is adorable and funny. And I’m not even gonna pretend that I don’t love your smokin’ fucking hot body. Or your beauty. Mesmerizing, really.”

  “Oh,” her response is barely audible as she shifts in her seat. “Um…thank you. I had no idea.”

  “Yes you did. I know you felt something too, at least a slight attraction or curiosity. What, she forbid you too?”

  “Huh? Who? From what?”

  Shit. I didn’t mean to say that last part, I really didn’t. I never narc on my little sister…and yet, I just did.

  “Nothing, never mind. Where do you live?” I start the car, turning on the radio.

  She reaches over and turns it right back off again. “Appleton Apartments, on the corner of Broad and Maple. Now answer my questions.”

  I exhale a labored breath, heavy with guilt and dread of the upcoming war I know I just started. “Bellamy, I can’t. Please just forget what I said. Forget all of it. It’s what’s best. Let me get you home safe, then we can both pretend this night never happened.” I put the car in gear and pull out.

  “Is that what you want?” God, she’s so calm. And sincere, sexy and off-limits…a man only has so much willpower.

  “What do you want? Rocker guy?” I should probably squash the jealousy in my voice if I’m serious about forgetting everything.

  Why can’t I move on from this girl, like every single one before her? It’d be nothing but trouble and a fight with my family to pursue her. And I barely know her. But despite my best efforts, I just can’t seem to get any of that to matter most.

  It’s gotta be the classic ‘I want what I can’t have’ allure. Brynn should give me the green light and this would all go away. Right?

  “No,” she snickers. “It was a cool experience and yeah, he was attractive. Plus, the rock star vibe is like, I don’t know, universally hot, but I’m pretty level-headed. It would take more than some showy flirting to get me to change, well, everything about myself. And the lead singer said “something” he likes and Zeke didn’t correct him. I’m not a thing.”

  “But you were gonna wait for him after the show?” Again, not exactly supporting my ‘forget it all’ campaign.

  “Honestly?” She pauses, tilting her head in deep consideration. “No, I wouldn’t have. Not to pigeonhole anyone, but I’m not willing to find out personally, alone, if the groupie sex, drugs and after-party stereotypes are true or exaggerated. I probably would’ve chatted with him off to the side, said “thanks for the song,” but I wouldn’t have gone backstage or anywhere private with him.”

  “I believe you. Good thing too, since you’re best friends with my sister,” I grumble just as we pull up in front of her apartment complex and I park, then open my door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you up to your apartment.” I quickstep around to help her out.

  “You don’t have to do that. Nobody else ever has and I’ve always been fine.”

  “Bellamy, give me your hand.” I hold mine out and wait to see if she’ll “come to me,” smiling when she does with no hesitation. I shut her door and don’t let go of her tiny hand as we walk toward the building. “I wasn’t raised to let ladies out at the curb or walk alone in the dark. And you should expect nothing less from a real man.”

  “A man, real or otherwise, has never been here,” she mutters…making me all kinds of happy.

  “Well, one has now, so the bar’s been set. It’s not a high bar, it’s common courtesy. So, if they can’t hang with the basics, dump their ass immediately,” I laugh.

  “Will do,” she giggles. “This is me.” She stops in front of 104A. Ground level—not liking that a damn bit.

  “All right, good night Bellamy.” I release my hold on her and start to turn.

  “Wait. You got us all sidetracked and never answered my questions from earlier. What did you mean about being forbid? And by who?”

  “Not gonna tell ya,” I shake my head. “Just can’t. And I’m begging you, please, let it go.”

  “You have to tell me,” she playfully pushes at my chest. “I know me, I won’t be able to let it go. It’ll drive me crazy wondering. Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she nods, earnest eyes honed in on mine.

  “No, I’m serious, Bellamy.” I move in close, stopping when my face is less than an inch from hers and lift my hand to cup her cheek. “Can you really? Keep a secret, from everyone, even your best friend?”

  “Yes,” her lids fall lazily and her answer is a breathy promise.

  “Good, remember you said that,” I growl my impatient warning and push her up against the wall, using only the force of my body plastered to hers. My other hand comes up, her face now cradled in both, and crash my lips to hers. Finally taking my taste of Eden’s apple. May God forgive me.

  And fuck me if it isn’t everything I imagined and more. Soft, warm lips that I trace with my tongue as she lets out the sexiest little mewl I’ve ever heard. I use the opening to slide my tongue inside, surprised when I hear myself grunt deeply in her mouth.

  Nails graze up my neck and she tugs on my hair, so I give her what she wants, pressing my body harder against hers and devouring her mouth even rougher. Our tongues tangle in perfectly matched depravity, and I swear, I think she starts to climb me.

  Her hands grip my shoulders and she keeps hitching her leg around my hip, trying to clamp it around me, so I help. My fingers dig into the backs of her thighs and I hoist her off the ground, groaning as she curls both legs around my waist and grinds herself against my hard-on.

  I thrust forward, making damn sure she really feels exactly what she does to me, and snap…losing all remaining semblance of control. Her ear, neck, collarbone, mouth…I can’t get enough, licking, kissing and sucking over her soft skin while she d
ry humps the shit out of me, moaning my name.

  I want to fuck her so badly, slide deep inside what I know will be tight, untouched heat; right here, right now. I want to yank down her shirt, rip her bra open and suck on her huge tits until she screams for me to take her. I want to watch her drop to her knees and bury my cock in between those lush lips, inch by inch.

  And, holy shit, I can’t believe I just had the fleeting thought…but, I want to carry her to bed and hold her against my chest all night long.

  “Bellamy, we have to-”

  “Stop. I know,” she whimpers, dropping her legs and arms from around me.

  I was gonna say “take this inside,” but she squashed that dream real quick. Probably for the best. Probably.

  Both our chests are heaving, her nipples, as hard as my dick, poking out to taunt me as we stand in silence. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and those eyes…wide and wild, a bright, hungry emerald. Stunning.

  I don’t want to think about where we go from here because I know the answer—nowhere. Unless…she was the one to convince Brynny I’m what she wants and am good to her. But how would she even know that when I’m not allowed to convince her? We don’t get the chance to see if we mesh well, or if I really do want to be more with her, or her with me, because of Brynn.

  What a fucked up, ass backwards mess.

  I should tell my sister to butt the fuck out. Easy, right?

  Wrong. So very, very wrong. Not even close to how it works in my large, extended family. We’re all loyal to a fault. Nothing or no one comes before family—no questions asked.

  So I say, “I should go.”

  “Yeah,” she replies, her voice somewhere between disappointed and…angry? “Thanks again for the ride home. And Jefferson?” she practically purrs, sliding a hand up my chest and patting over my heart. “You be sure and let me know, when you know.”

  With that, she gives me a sad smile and turns, going inside and shutting the door in my face.

  I might not do relationships, but neither am I a moron. I completely understand what she just said to me.