by Rose Hudson
Sitting here with Chanin, Leelan, and Mel, Erin nestled in beside me in the booth, I’m confronted with Mom’s memory and reminded that not all people with money are assholes. Not that any of the four of them were millionaires, but it’s apparent each have worked their way up the ladder of success and have made themselves financially comfortable. They’re far from what I expected, and thankfully so. What’s impressed me more though, is how they care for Erin. The outpouring of adoration. The family-like banter and playfulness. The protectiveness. I can tell that each person at this table not only considers her their friend, but family as well. It makes me unusually happy that she has them in her life. It puts my mind at ease to know she is cared for and loved by those around her. When I look at her there is so much beauty, but I have seen a glimmer of pain hidden underneath. So knowing she has good in her life now despite the past, whatever it may be, makes me like and respect these three instantly.
From the head of the table, Chanin taps her glass with a fork, drawing our attention.
“While I’ve got you all here, and since we’ve made it through an extremely successful opening, I feel this is the perfect time to make an announcement.” She speaks to all of us, but looks pointedly at Erin. “First and foremost, I want to say thank you to each of you for standing behind me and helping build my dream into a reality.” She holds her glass in the air in salute and everyone follows suit, downing our second round of drinks. “But to my Erin,” she breaths out on an emotion laden breath. “I knew when I read your internship essay that you were a diamond in the rough, and I have tried my damndest to hold tight to you ever since. As you know, my focus will be shifting to production and distribution of the brand, leaving the store in your hands. I want you to know that sacrificing dreams of your own to be a part of building this company has not gone unnoticed. With all that said, I will be taking steps this week to make you fifty-one percent owner of GRACE, Thus increasing your share in the company and promoting you to VP of Design and Operations.” I can only imagine how Erin feels, because my heart squeezes with happiness for her at Chanin’s words. Mel squeals and Leelan starts clapping as Chanin raises her glass, this time in a toast. “To Erin.” As we all lift our glasses, I look over to Erin as a single tear lands on her cheek. Instinctively I reach to her and smooth it away with the pad of my thumb, careful not to abuse her soft porcelain skin with the rough surface of my work-worn fingers. Taking me by surprise, she places her hand over mine, holding it to her cheek and piercing me with her blue diamond eyes. I struggle with the need to lose control and take her mouth right there in front of God and everyone, because for that brief moment, amidst all the excitement and buzz happening around us, time fails to exist beyond that simple connection. No matter its simplicity, the vulnerable yield in her eyes isn’t lost on me.
The waitress approaches and sets another round of drinks on the table.
“Can I get anything else for y’all?”
“Actually, can I get a glass of water please,” Erin answers, causing Mel to hold up a waggling index finger. Erin nods in confirmation to the waitress and rolls her eyes in Mel’s direction.
“Oh no no no! You have cause to celebrate, and celebrating consists of more than two drinks sister!” Mel slides her drink to Erin and she slides it to me. I slide it to Chanin and it exchanges hands until making its way back to Mel, who glares at Erin in mock irritation. Erin grins and flips her off, causing a smile to creep up the sides of my mouth at this carefree side of her I’m growing insanely thirsty for. Erin reaches across the table to Chanin and places her hand over hers.
“You know how much this means to me, so all I can say is thank you. Thank you for everything.” They share a loving, knowing moment as the waitress returns with Erin’s glass of water, setting it down and giving us all a wide smile. I seem to be drawn to her every move, and watching her tonight is out of my control. The way she ran her fingers through her long silky strands made me want to lean over and press my nose to her crown and inhale. And God, watching her apply lip gloss was probably the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. Her lips are a work of art at any view, but from the side view that I have, I can see just how soft and plump, and fucking kissable they are. I had to close my eyes for a second over that one; my dick getting hard at a table of her colleagues would probably be frowned upon. Or hell, who knows, as surprisingly supportive as this crazy crew is, they might cheer us on. Shaking my head and opening my eyes to see Erin looking at me with a smile accompanied by scrunched brows catches me off guard. I sit up higher against the back of the bench seat and squeeze her shoulder with my arm draped behind her, causing her to come closer to me and she does so willingly. Making the need I thought I’d extinguished begin to ignite once more. To the right of our booth that’s nestled along the wall opposite the dance floor, Gregg Fells begins to warm his well-versed fingers along the intricate strings of his acoustic guitar, and I immediately recognize the song as one of my favorites. Still holding Erin’s gaze as his soulful voice begins to pour into the now quiet atmosphere, I lean in, just barely grazing the edge of her ear with my bottom lip. The pull to her like a moth to a flame.
“Will you dance with me?” I lean back slightly to gauge her response, wanting and hoping for the gift of her body pressed to me. I’m rewarded with the bite of her lip and a warm void next to me on the bench as her body eases out of the seat. My pulse is an unrelenting base drum in my chest that I will to ebb as we step onto the dance floor. I pull her into me with greedy arms wrapped tight around her, pressing and molding every delicious curve of her into every tightly wound particle of me. The relinquished give of her body, and the placement of her palm flat around the back of my neck sends scorching heat down my spine, forcing a heavy exhale from my lips. My hold strengthens and presses her even tighter to me.
“Do you come here often?” My voice is low and teasing, the feel of her more delicious than all the times I’ve imagined. Her face, so damn gorgeous as she rewards me with a wide smile, the laugh that follows an earmarked bonus to be stowed away in my cataloged visions of her.
“Only when there’s a chance to dance with the best looking guy here,” she teases, but her eyes give away her genuineness. “I can see why you like this guy. I have to admit, I was skeptical of your musical tastes, but he’s amazing.”
“All his stuff is great, but this song is my favorite.” Desperate to know something tangible, and getting the feeling of truth behind her dig, I ask, “Skeptical of my tastes, huh? What are you, a music buff?” I tickle at her sides. She squirms and smiles, but her eyes carry a seriousness that doesn’t match up.
“My father played guitar. We traveled most of my life with his band while they made it big. For a short time anyway.” Her answer is short, but I hear the complicated emotion underneath.
“Do they live here?” Prodding cautiously, I try to find her eyes as we move to the music, but she looks away and up to the stage.
“No. We settled in Memphis when I was a teenager and they still live there.” Recognizing the pain in her voice, it’s apparent she’s carrying a similar dislike as I do at the topic of parents, I smooth my hands over her back, hoping to indicate comfort and resignation from questioning further.
“What is this?” Her question breaks into the silence of our bubble.
What is what,” I ask through lowered brows. She smiles understandingly, adjusting her hold around my neck, pressing the gorgeous tits I’ve been staring at all night into my chest. This leaves me no choice but to run my hands up between her shoulder blades and pull her into me even deeper.
“The song. What is it called?”
“Do You Want Me,” I tell her, my voice finally breaking through the thickness of my throat. Her laugh is skeptical as Gregg sings the title line of the song, morphing her expression into one of concession.
“Are you sending me subliminal messages with your choice of song, Mr. Lawson?” The corner of her mouth turns up as she bites her lip, and it makes every part of me stir, anxi
ous anticipation amplifying by the second with every smile, look, touch, sway of our bodies moving together on the dance floor. Wanting her to know the truth, I pause for only a brief moment to ensure that she registers the confidence in my stare.
“Oh, there’s nothing subliminal about it, Ms. Abrams.” I know it’s not meant for me to see, but I don’t miss her hard swallow as it rolls down the length of her throat, drawing my attention to the shallow dip between her neck and collarbone. I lean down impulsively and place a chaste kiss to the spot, inhaling the crisp sweetness of her on my way back up. Reconnecting our gazes, internally kicking my ass but forcing myself to remain unreadable, I watch as her eyes scan my face. A war plays out in her expression, confusion and anger appearing defeated by abandoned desire in the end as she pulls in, pressing our cheeks together and looking over my shoulder instead of holding the intense gaze we had just shared. We sway to the soulfully seductive sound of the band, Gregg Fells singing “I need to know, need to know, that you really want me, girl,” echoing my thoughts, my touch begging for an answer, and her touch attempting to give it to me.
The silky thin material of what she’s wearing allows access to her, more intimate than I’d even fantasized as I watched her walk to the door of GRACE earlier. My fingers graze indulgently slow up her sides, slipping from one rib to the next, until my thumbs graze the weighted valley beneath each of her breasts. Lifting her chin from my shoulder to look at me, her eyes fervid and the tips of her fingers insisting, I slide my hands down to grip her hips, pulling her in, her eyes telling me she feels my hardening dick beneath my jeans. Immune to all that surrounds us, I feather my lips across hers and over to her ear, my tongue needing a taste. All control lost, I plead through the tense muscle of my jaw.
“Don’t deny us this Erin.” I ease from her ear to press my forehead to hers, both of us looking down between us. “Come home with me tonight.” For an eternal moment we stay like that, her struggle apparent as she crushes her eyes closed. Knowing we both need to hear the lie, words spoken in denial of what is evolving in this moment, what had been evolving since whatever divine force brought her eyes to meet mine in that mirror, the delusive pronouncement falls from my lips. “Just once. Just tonight.”
Her eyes open as her head lifts from our connection, eyes leveling with mine, my words appearing to have given her the strength necessary to surrender to the notion. As if needing one more element to solidify her confidence, she looks from my eyes to my mouth before leaning up to press her lips to mine. Raging need coursing through me, wanting nothing more than to mark her with my touch, claiming her body as my own, I reign in my control and kiss her in return with the gentle burning embers of a fire tamped down by the need to keep her. Her hands clasp my face as she slowly pulls away, locking our eyes for only a second, she drops her hold and grasps my hand in one of hers, pulling me to the table where her friends sit laughing and drinking. The approach is quick, gaining a wide-eyed response from Leelan who is the first to spot us.
“Here let me get up and you can have your seat back,” he says, starting to slide to the edge of the booth seat Erin and I had occupied before dancing.
“It’s okay, we were just leaving. Wanted to come say goodnight and grab my clutch,” Erin explains, holding her hand out to Leelan who reaches across the table, collecting her purse and handing it to her. The poorly hidden surprise on his face matches that of both Chanin and Mel, and I can’t help bowing my head as a grin spreads across mine.
“Well, alrighty then,” Mel says, lifting her glass in our direction. Chanin smacks her shoulder and Leelan chuckles as he clinks Mel’s glass with his, causing Chanin to shoot him an exasperated glare.
“Okay, Love. I’ll come by the store Monday with the new sketches.” Chanin attempts business as usual, pushing the spotlight off Erin and making me like her even more.
I TRIED MY BEST to hide the excitement running wild when we exited the restaurant and made our way to my truck, but lost it when the fifty steps it took to get us there felt like a million and the urge to touch her became too strong. I pinned her against the side of my truck, my hands roaming her body as one settled in the hair at the nape of her neck, kissing her the way I had wanted to on the dance floor and gaining a throaty moan of pleasure from her in response. I had all but thrown her into my truck, running around and jumping in the driver’s seat before peeling out of the parking lot. Knowing that her house was half the distance between Daphne and my loft, and apparently as impatient as I was, Erin had suggested that we go to her house instead. Aware of her daughter, I had looked at her questioningly and she explained that Ruth was spending the night with a friend. My foot instantly became heavy on the pedal as I maneuvered the roads to get there. I had even pulled over halfway through the twenty-minute drive, desperate to touch her and praying she didn’t change her mind. For the rest of the drive, she had sat next to me, kissing my neck and teasing the defining lines of my abs with her fingers under my shirt. The quality of these jeans was undeniable, because my dick was like a steel rod trying to bust through the fucking zipper by the time we pulled into her driveway.
Standing behind her as she unlocks the door for us, I feel like a damn bloodhound locked on a scent as her perfume comes up to meet my nose. Yet, as she steps inside the entry way and turns to look at me, I’m unable to move. Shrouded in the cascading light of the moon, she stands with her hands bunched in front of her, fiddling with the keys she’s still holding and eyes a vivid pool of fluorescent desire, but appearing glazed over in brittle confidence. The latter forcing me inside to stand before her, my hand coming up to brush her cheek, my lips touch briefly on her forehead, then down to her mouth to take her plump bottom lip between mine.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?” The conviction to not only show her with my touch, but to tell her with unabashed words becoming a lead weight as the words leave my mouth of their own accord. When she doesn’t lift her eyes to meet mine, I gently tilt her head up with my index finger, confused at this unsure side of her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” Wanting, needing her to come back to me, to return to the woman on fire from mere minutes before, I slide my hands around and grip the backs of her thighs beneath her ass, lifting her up as her legs wrap around me and lock around my waist. I take one step back to lock the front door, her eyes seeming to plead for me to understand whatever she’s feeling. But instead of saying anything, she slides her hands roughly into my hair, kissing me equally as rough and spurring me toward the stairs. I take two at a time, watching over her shoulder as she nips and licks a path from my chin to my jaw and down my neck. I never thought I’d be walking up these stairs again. With each step I take and every impatient squeeze of her legs and greedy press of her lips to my skin, the knowledge that I’ve been given a second chance grows louder in my mind, reminding me that there is no promise of tomorrow with her. My heart partnering with my mind, telling me to love her and fuck her, to take my time and hurry up, to not take her or this second chance for granted.
Remembering where her bedroom is, I turn to the right at the top of the stairs, all but sprinting to reach her bed. My need to devour her claws and bites at every alcove of my insides, but I want her to lead the way down this path we’re taking. I want her to take control and lose control. I want her to steal what she desires and give what she wants me to have. I sit on the bed to hold her in this position, the feel of her wrapped around and pressed to me too good to sever. Slowing our kiss and pressing her forehead to mine, she exhales shakily, mirroring the way every part of me feels. She pulls back slightly, looking down at me from her slightly higher vantage, and peers so deeply into my eyes that my throat grows tight, my lungs deflated and weak as I feel her prepare to say something.
“I think it’s only fair that I let you know you’re getting the short end of this deal.” She raises a brow and smiles sheepishly, but I don’t miss the well-disguised inadequacy in her tone. Hoping to assuage the uncertainty she’s fighting, I grip h
er hips and pull her straddled center closer, wanting her to feel what she does to me. The sound she releases is almost inaudible, but it’s enough to let me know her reservation is slipping.
“How do you figure that?” I kiss her jaw and breathe her in, ingraining the rich sweetness to my memory. “The way I see it is there’s one of two things going on here. Either you lost an incredibly unfair bet and had to leave with the first lucky bastard to get you on the dance floor, or God himself is handing out favors to men like me tonight.” My voice is thick, my tone teasing but honest. She rewards me with a throaty laugh as she runs her hands through my hair, smoothing it back and placing her palms flat on the back of my neck as seriousness returns to her features.
