by BK Rivers
“You going to go out with her?” A change of subject is needed. Wallowing in my own guilt isn’t a good way to get ready for my date with Reggie.
Jeremy sighs, long and breathy, drags his hands across his freshly shaven face, and puffs out his cheeks. “Yeah. I guess.”
“When? Wanna double with me and Reggie tonight?” Wait. I don’t want them to double with us. I want Reggie all to myself.
Before I can retract my offer, Jeremy says, “Sure. I’ll shoot her a text and find out if she’s cool with it.”
Turns out the chick, Emily, was very much okay with doubling with me and Reggie. The four of us meet up at El Casa Viejo, and of course Jeremy and I arrive fifteen minutes before Reggie shows up wearing a strapless red dress that hugs her body like it was painted on. Her long hair is curled in waves that cascade over her back, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to give her the shirt off my back because every guy in here won’t be able to keep their eyes off her.
Reggie quickly swipes her tongue across scarlet lips, brushes an imaginary stray hair behind her ear, and studies the cracks in the patio. I lean in, inhale her flowery scent, and whisper in her ear just how amazing she looks. Her cheeks flush as my fingers trail down her arm before I twine my fingers with hers.
“Shit,” Jeremy says as he thrusts his hands in his pockets and jerks his chin towards a blond-haired girl walking this way. “She looks good.” Her long legs look even longer in a black skirt that shimmies as she walks.
“Hey,” Jeremy says as Emily moves to stand near him, but not close enough you’d think they’d been as friendly as they were a couple weeks ago.
“Hi.” Emily tugs at the hem of her dress as we walk through the restaurant to our table. She appears just as nervous as I know Jeremy is. Reggie loops her arm through mine and pulls me beside her in the high leather booth. Emily and Jeremy join us, keeping a good two feet between them. Awkward.
“You boys sure clean up well,” Reggie says after she’s thoroughly inspected my haircut and beard trim. I don’t miss the way her fingers trail over the nape of my neck and glide into the bottom of my hair. The touch zings through me, settling between my legs. Yes. It’s been twenty-one months since I last had sex. Yes. I want to have sex with Reggie. I would be lying if the thought hasn’t crossed my mind every day since seeing her at the diner. But with our history, I’m not sure we should cross that line again with me leaving so soon to go back on tour.
Reggie’s fingers remain at the back of my neck, twirling in the short hair, and I physically have to pinch my thigh until I want to scream in order to keep from needing to adjust myself under the table.
Our waiter comes for our drink order and even though he obviously knows who I am, keeps his cool. Sometimes I wonder if Jeremy feels a little left out in the grand scheme of things. As band manager, he’s as much a part of the band as I am, but his part is all behind the scenes. He’ll never receive the recognition the guys or I do.
“How do you two know each other?” Emily asks me and Reggie. When our drinks arrive—water for me and Reggie, sodas for Emily and Jeremy—Emily inches a bit closer to Jeremy.
“We all went to high school together,” Jeremy says after he takes a drink. “They were high school sweethearts.”
Emily beams at us, her cheeks lighting up. “Really? That’s amazing. You guys have been together all this time?”
I nearly choke on my water as Reggie’s fingernails scratch my neck. I turn to her, notice the red in her cheeks, and shrug.
“We broke up after graduation,” I clarify. “I went on tour with the guys, and Reggie’s been working.” The conversation throughout dinner is like this. Back and forth exchanges, all while every few minutes Emily and Jeremy inch closer to each other. By the time we pay the check, they’re sitting as close as Reggie and I are. Which is to say we’re hip to hip.
As we leave the restaurant, we decide to all file into my car and head to Rowdy’s for dancing. The club is packed, and I’m swarmed with a group of girls not twenty feet inside the building. Jeremy runs interference, directs our small group toward the center of the dance floor, and whistles. When I say whistles, I mean he blows out an earsplitting, chalkboard screeching whistle everyone around us can hear even above the music.
“Listen up!” he shouts, pulling everyone’s attention to where the four of us are standing. “I have the Jordan freaking Capshaw standing here with his girl, Reggie. Give us some dancing room or get the hell out of here. And unless you want me to call our security squad, leave us alone.”
The club goes dead silent, like chirping crickets silent, before the music begins pumping through the speakers once again and the crowd returns to two-stepping around the weathered oak floor.
“Was that really necessary?” Reggie asks as I pull her around and grip the tight red fabric at her hip, inching the short hemline up an inch or so.
“Yep.”
Chapter 18
Reggie
Jordan’s fingers don’t leave my hip as we glide across the floor. He’s possessive, hot, and the way his dark blue henley tugs across his chest makes my knees weak. “To Make You Feel My Love” by Garth Brooks plays over the speakers, and he pulls me even closer, dragging my legs around his thigh, inching my already short dress higher. I tug on the hem, but his eyes find mine, and his lips turn up in a seductive grin. He shakes his head and reaches for my hand, guiding it to his chest, over his heart. The rhythm is heavy and fast, and it echoes my own.
I know I’m in trouble. I knew that the moment I saw Jordan at the diner. But I don’t know if I’m the only one. Sometimes he looks at me like I’m his whole world, like he sees only me and nothing else matters. But then there are times I see something else. Something foreign and almost terrifying. He’ll gaze off into the distance, lips pursed, nostrils flaring, and his soft brown eyes looking at anything but me.
Even though he’s holding me in his arms on this dance floor, the look he has on his face right now scares me. It’s fierce, and possessive, and hungry. His grip on my hip and my hand pulses heat through me, making me feel lightheaded. We turn and spin on the dance floor, and when our eyes connect, neither one of us can look away. His fingers dig into my hip, while his other hand glides down my arm and falls to the back of my neck.
It’s as though the room clears, and there’s no one left in Rowdy’s except for us. The music is playing; Garth Brooks is lulling us closer—even though I don’t know how it’s even possible. And we dance like we’re stripping our souls for one another. Baring our inner demons, laying claim with our touch, and whispering promises with our ragged breath.
Jordan dips his head lower, his forehead rests on mine, and we both close our eyes because it’s all too much. He brushes his lips across the tip of my nose and slides his cheek to meet mine.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Reggie-bug.” Even though he whispers the words, I hear them loud and clear. My stomach clenches and drops, fearing he’s somehow telling me he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want me. But his arms pull me into his chest, and he turns his head to press his lips against my ear. “Tell me to take you back to my place. Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
I do want him—want this. I sigh into his cheek, and wet my lips in hungry anticipation. My fingers graze his chin, pulling his face to mine and his eyes reflect what I’m feeling—longing. I swallow slowly, dipping my eyes to his mouth, and pull him closer. My answer comes in the form of a warm breath on his eager lips, a gentle sigh that brings us closer, and a soft caress of my tingling lips on his.
Jordan’s eyes close in relief, his hand finds mine, and he guides me through the crowd until we find a very cozy Emily and Jeremy dancing.
“Reggie and I are going to cut out of here,” Jordan says to Jeremy, pulling his car keys from his pocket. Jeremy glances between me and Jordan, then turns to Emily as a grin spreads across his knowing face.
“We’ll grab a cab back to the restaurant,” he says with a laugh.
<
br /> “No, take my car.” I say, handing him my car keys so he’ll have something to drive home when he and Emily are finished with their date. Whose great idea was it to take separate cars anyway? Right…mine. Oh shit, things are getting real, really fast. Jordan ducks down, brushes his lips across my cheek, and pulls me toward the front door. Am I really going to do this? I mean, I’m prepared…physically. All smooth, plucked, and fresh. So why does my stomach feel like it’s preparing to run an epic marathon?
Jordan pulls me around in front of him and backs me against his car. His eyes search mine for, I don’t know—permission? He drags a finger across my bottom lip, wets his own, and leans in close. The tips of our noses brush together, and when the soft flesh of his lips meets mine, a sigh is unavoidable. The kiss is slow and light, as though he’s making sure this is what we both want. It is, isn’t it? Do I really want this? Do I want Jordan between my legs, on top of me, possessing me?
The kiss grows more desperate, our bodies press together against his car, and yes, I do want this.
“Take me home, Jordan,” I whisper as our lips break apart. He stands upright and backs up a step, looking at me like I’ve just asked him to fly me to the moon. His mouth bobs somewhere between open and closed, and I realize he must think I mean back to my home.
Smiling, I trail my fingers down his chest, stopping at the top of his jeans. I drag my finger through a belt loop and pull his hips against me.
“I meant take me back to your place. I’d rather not give the good people of Scottsdale a show.”
Jordan drives erratically through the city streets until we reach the freeway. While he’s driving, I send a quick text to Stacey to let her know I’ll be home sometime in the morning and tell her how amazing she is for taking care of Micah. I feel a little like I’m breaking curfew and I’m going to get caught. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
My stomach rolls, making me feel a little queasy now that reality is settling in. Jordan twines his fingers with mine as we park outside his condo.
“You okay?” he asks as he pulls my hand to his lips and kisses gently.
I nod, swallow the lump in my throat, and decide to put on my big girl panties. It’s only sex. With Jordan. My ex. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.
In the elevator, Jordan brushes the hair off my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand is so warm on the back of my neck and, as possessive as the gesture may be, it makes my insides tingle.
“We can just relax and watch a movie if this is too much for you, Reggie-bug.” He squeezes the back of my neck gently, and then trails the tips of his fingers down my back before they stop at my waist. He tugs me gently into his side and kisses the soft spot below my neck. The elevator doors glide open, and I take a deep breath. I can do this.
Inside the condo, I quickly excuse myself to use the restroom. While inside, I marvel at the expensive tile and sparkling quartz counters. Even the shower has bits of shiny glass or crystal of some kind. I rest both palms on the sink counter, take several deep breaths, and then do a quick odor check. I must have put on about ten layers of deodorant before getting dressed tonight. Everything smells good and fresh, despite how clammy my body feels.
Do I confess to him just how long it’s been for me? That even though it’s been years for us as a couple, I still remember how he felt? Though, despite being a really great kisser in high school, his kisses now blow those out of the water. What if sex is even better now than it was then?
Maybe I swallowed a hummingbird. Maybe what I feel in my chest is the poor bird trying desperately to be free of the cage my ribs have become. Maybe I’m going to be sick.
And then the sweetest notes on a piano echo through the walls of the bathroom. The melody is beautiful and suddenly makes me emotional. Like the music I know Jordan is playing is a song he wrote just for me. I can feel the notes wrapping around me like a hug, and it’s amazing, almost intoxicating.
I join him at the piano, watch as his long fingers dance over the shiny white keys, and the music flows freely. He’s humming a tune I don’t recognize, yet it feels so familiar. When the song finishes, Jordan turns to me, runs his fingers through my hair, and trails them down my jaw to my bottom lip. A sigh escapes me as his other hand reaches for my cheek. His gaze lingers on my eyes then falls to my lips, before he lowers his head and grazes his lips over mine.
Somehow, the raging hunger has died, but it’s been replaced by a tender desire that slowly climbs higher and higher as Jordan pulls me onto his lap, my legs straddling his. His hands rest firmly on my hips as his lips continue to set the pace. There’s no rush, no tongue, just the soft, gentle pressing of his warm lips against my skin.
This kiss has got to be my new favorite.
But then, as if his patience is waning, his tongue parts my lips and seeks entrance into my mouth. His tongue twists against mine, pulling at me until he coaxes my tongue into his mouth, and I’m lost. I’ve fallen into the abyss that is Jordan and no longer feel the heaviness of my life. There’s only him and me and this moment where we’re speaking through the rocking of hips and the searching of tongues. Hungry hands slide up my back, over my shoulders, and down the front of my dress, grazing my breasts as he passes down to the tops of my thighs.
A moan passes through my mouth into his, and the kiss deepens. Jordan’s hands slide to my thighs then move below my butt, pulling yet another moan from me. His grip tightens as he stands abruptly, wraps my legs around his waist, and sends the piano bench sliding across the floor. I grip the back of his neck as his hold on me stays firmly on my butt, and we continue to kiss all the way to his bedroom.
Chapter 19
Jordan
If I don’t pace myself, I’m going to blow my load in my jeans. Reggie’s firm ass in my hands feels crazy good. Her red dress has slid so far up her legs that she might as well not be wearing it. If I have anything to say about it, she’ll be out of it in about ten seconds. Kissing her like that on the piano bench, like she’s all mine and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, was almost too much—like I’m diving too deep. It felt so damn good, and the warmth from between her thighs pressing down on me was…I’ve got to stop thinking about it.
I have her in my arms. My lips are still on hers, my tongue in her mouth, and the way she sucks on it like it’s a lollypop is making my pants way too tight. I love the soft whimpers that fall from her lips when I press my hips into her center, showing her exactly how much I want her. How kissing her like this is driving me crazy.
She unwraps her legs from my waist, slides down to the floor, and traces her fingers along my stomach, making my muscles tighten as she stops at the top of my jeans and pulls my bottom lip into her mouth. Her tongue swipes over my lips before she pulls away, turning her back to me. I run my hands down her sides, stopping at her hips, and pull her ass against me. She gasps, her cheeks flush, and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling.
We were good together in high school—really good. But as good as we were, I’ve changed, and I’m sure Reggie has too. What was a tender, slow act with Reggie in high school, was erased by the drugs and turned into something frantic, almost manic, with every girl after her. It was never about pleasing the girl I was with, but only getting myself off no matter how fast or impersonal. I lost count after our second year of touring, deciding the numbers didn’t matter, especially since the girls remained nameless.
Tonight, being with Reggie, it’s not like it was with the others. I want to take my time. I want to make her feel as good as she’s making me feel.
Reggie brings her hand to my jeans and slowly glides her fingers over the front zipper, and I actually have to pull away from her. This girl.
“Hey, Bug, let me touch you,” I say as she gazes up at me, her dark eyes wide with uncertainty. “It’s been a long while for me, and you’re feeling too good. If you keep touching me like that, this is going to be over before we even begin.”
A pale pink blush settl
es on her cheeks as she smiles on one side of her mouth. She nods and slowly walks across the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. She leans down, removes her nude heels and holds the strappy shoes by a finger. They sway against her hand before she glances up to me and tosses them across the room. I flip the light switches, turning off the overhead light, changing everything to the pale glow of the table lamps. I want to see every inch of this woman.
I stand across the room, staring at her tan, lean legs, and then my eyes travel up her red dress to her perfect breasts. Her chest is rising and falling in deep breaths. Am I making her nervous? Her fingers tug at the hem of the short dress, and suddenly I’m thrust back into a memory when I was sixteen, sitting with Reggie in my bedroom at my parents’ home. We were both nervous because we decided to have sex for the first time. We’d perfected kissing; I’d felt her up and even touched her intimately. But we were going all the way.
Reggie is wearing the same look right now as she did all those years ago. Surprisingly, I’m almost as nervous as I was then too. I mean, I know what I’m doing now, but what if she’s had better since me? Or what if I’m too rough?
Shit. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the shortened tresses, and join Reggie on the bed. We both sigh, not knowing exactly how to move forward. I don’t want to ruin this—ruin what’s growing between us.
Reggie sighs once more and then says, “It’s been a really long time for me too.” There is a lot of emphasis on really, making me wonder just how long it’s been. Her tongue slowly runs over her plump lips and then she gazes at me before taking a deep breath. Her lashes flicker and my resolve crumbles. My hands move to her cheeks, and I pull her face to mine, my mouth claiming hers. Gone is the softness. Gone is the slow, tender kiss. Instead, what’s between us is frenzied, hungry, and full of soft moans of pleasure.
