Blindsided

by Shey Stahl

  To our left, a group of women are eyeing Landon, like they know him, but can’t place from where. Unless you were trying to make out his face, I doubt you could tell who he is tonight. We’re tucked away in the corner, trying to remain out of sight, but I know at some point someone might recognize him.

  I glare at the women. Back off, bitches.

  Trying to avoid this, Landon moves closer until our bodies are touching. “If I could kiss you, these women wouldn’t be staring at me.” Pulling back, he smiles at me, winking. “They’d think I’m with you and leave me alone.”

  I laugh. He tries so hard sometimes. “No, they’d still be staring.”

  With a smirk, those intense dark eyes study mine. “Because I’m so good-looking?”

  “No, because you’re Landon Slade.”

  His face tightens, his gaze on the women. “Shhh, don’t say that so loud.” He slaps his hand over my mouth, not hard, but he must have forgotten about my lip injury. “They’ll hear you and attack me.”

  Pain shoots through my entire body. It’s like when you have a bruise, and someone presses on it and asks, “Does it hurt?” Of course it fucking hurts. It’s black for a reason, you inconsiderate prick. Once the pain is bearable, I glare at Landon and rip his hand away. “You asshole!”

  “Holy shit.” It dawns on him what he just did. His eyes widen in fear. “I’m so sorry! I totally forgot about your lip.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t. Goddamn, that hurts!” I’m not sure if I want to cry from the pain or laugh at his expression of horror that he just did that. Either way, there’s no time for it because the lights of the Paramount Theater dim and the opening notes of “Still Got Blood” begin. I nearly scream with excitement and hug Landon. “I forgive you!”

  I don’t let go of him right away. Instead, I hang on a little tighter, tears in the corner of my eyes threatening to let loose. I can’t explain the emotion rushing through me, but it’s there and has everything to do with the man holding me to his chest.

  Landon breathes in deeply, his arms tightening around me. I pull back to look in his eyes. His forehead presses against mine. “I….” His voice fades with the heavy beats next to me.

  I what? What was he going to say? I like you? I hate you? I… love you? No way. It couldn’t have been that. Don’t be crazy.

  Swallowing, he shakes his head against mine, his breathing harsh, his eyes reflecting the stage lights. The lyrics, the atmosphere, it’s everything. It’s consuming and very nearly life altering. I know, you’re thinking I’m insane, but it’s so much more than words can portray. We’re bumped and jostled from behind, but nothing can change the look in our eyes. Our friendship, our affection for one another is changing, and we both know it, regardless of what we say or do next. The bass reverberates in my chest, and my heart pounds in my ears.

  Lacing my fingers with his, I squeeze his hands. We’re basically facing each other, chest to chest, holding hands and staring at one another like some kind of awkward cross between a hug and a middle school dance pose. “Thank you for bringing me,” I whisper in his ear, unsure if he can hear me over the screaming girls and the music.

  He must have heard me because he lets go of my hands, cups my cheek with one hand and leans in to run his lips from my collarbone to my ear. “Thank you for being you.”

  My body gets hot with his words, as if I wasn’t hot already. My fucking legs begin to shake. I bite my goddamn lip to keep from smiling and then regret that. Lip blister and all. I might not ever use a hot iron again.

  Landon and I, we dance. To every single song. And it’s like we’ve both forgotten the world around us and my blistered lips. We scream and shout the lyrics, even when we don’t know them during the guitar solos, shoulder to shoulder with people we’ve never met. By the third song, I can barely feel my feet, but the smile on my face hasn’t faded. And his… I haven’t seen one like that in years. Tonight, he’s Landon Slade, a twenty-six-year-old without a care in the world, not LC, the NFL superstar who this city worships.

  “Never Enough” comes on, and Landon leans in, his chest soaked with sweat, his eyes sparkling with the stage lights, that shadow across his perfect jaw… those lips, they move closer to me. He sways me to the music, the two of us locked in an unbreakable embrace. I can’t remember the last time I spent this much time in his arms. “Let me kiss you.”

  “Anywhere but my lips,” I whisper, dancing around in front of him, oblivious to everything around us.

  There’s neediness in his eyes. Tugging on my hand, he yanks me toward his chest once again. “It’s never enough with you,” he tells me, altering the lyrics. And then he stares at me when the line about falling in love is repeated, his cheeks flushed with exertion, his breathing slow and steady.

  What does that mean?

  While all the girls are screaming over the lead singer, I’m intent on one man.

  My breath catches in my throat. Twisting me around, he brings himself in line behind me. The music slows, an acoustic version of “She’s Casual” begins with the lead singer by himself on stage, isolated in a single spotlight.

  I can feel his heart thudding against my back and mine, it’s beating so hard it’s as if it’s trying to thump its way out of my chest. I’m drowning with each breath in disbelief he’s touching me like this in public.

  Landon’s hands move to my hips, and then around my lower belly. I know where this is going when his fingertips dip just inside the band of my jeans, his mouth is at my ear. “Let me,” he begs, slipping them lower. His words are quiet, rough with need, and they make my stomach flip and flop. He leans in close, his forehead pressing to my shoulder and then he turns his head, his nose against my skin. “Don’t stop me.”

  My head spins, my body exploding into fire, melting into pure pleasure at the power his touch has over me. Oh, God. Is this really happening?

  I don’t say anything in response. It’s not like anyone can see us or cares what we’re doing. This… it’s reckless, insane, and everything he is to me. With the rapid beat of his heart against my shoulder blade and his lips on my neck, his fingers dip inside my panties for the first time. I gasp the moment he makes contact with the sensitive junction between my legs.

  “How do I make you feel?” he asks, breathy and low.

  I sigh, unable to form words, and lean my head back against his shoulder. His left hand shifts from my hip to my rib cage, just under my breast to hold me to him.

  We’ve never been here before. He’s never touched me like this.

  With the lyrics mirroring our relationship floating around us, Landon’s thumb rolls over my clit through my panties, and I cry out softly. But he suddenly stops, his mouth at my ear. “When did you get a fucking clit ring and who did it?”

  “It’s not a clit ring. It’s a hood piercing. And I’ve had it for a while,” I whisper back, twisting my head to look him in the eyes. “Why does it matter who gave it to me?”

  Those piercing eyes lock on mine. “It fucking matters because this pussy is mine.”

  “It wasn’t back then.”

  His eyes capture mine again, lingering on my lips. I’m weak with need, and we haven’t even kissed tonight, but I feel like I’m going to come apart. “It’s been mine since I laid eyes on you, you just wouldn’t admit it.”

  “Are we really going to fight right now?”

  He basically grabs my pussy in a choke hold. I’m not even joking. He actually cups it and yanks my ass against his rock-hard cock. “We’re not fighting. We’re discussing this clit ring.”

  My breath comes out in shallow pants. Well, then get me off, and we’ll discuss it further.

  “Let me see it,” he pushes.

  “Not here.”

  “In my car?”

  “Landon….”

  “Fine.” He huffs out a breath. “But if I get you off before this song’s over, you’re gonna let me see it.”

  I don’t say anything, but I nod. I’m not sure I have the words.


  He slides his hand up, then inside my panties, dragging his middle finger over my clit ring, then dips it inside my pussy. His voice drops to a ragged whisper. “I decide when you come.”

  Moaning into the air, I rest my head back against his shoulder, reeling in the sensations. Sliding two fingers inside me, he curls them to stroke just the right spot. Let me tell you something, Landon can get a girl off. I love how he touches me and the way he slides his hand up my ribcage to palm my breast. The intimacy of the moment contradicts the scene around us, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but his touch.

  My entire body thrums with the pulsing energy between us, little pants of pleasure escaping me. Squeezing my eyes shut, the music pounds around me as I let Landon finger fuck me with The Hunna singing to me. Just as my core begins to contract, Landon’s hold on me tightens, his mouth attacking my neck. My body arches, my eyes squeezing shut. I cry out as the orgasm shudders through me, leaving me gasping for air. It starts in the back of my thighs, shooting upwards and exploding between my legs.

  It takes me a second to come around to the idea that Landon just got me off.

  My Landon. My best friend. My boss.

  Shit. There’s nothing I can say now. I want him. I swallow, my eyes searching his. He doesn’t need my approval, not now. Not after that. Everything from my body language to the thudding of my heart gives me away.

  I look over my shoulder at him. “That was….” I can’t finish my words. My voice is shaking too damn much. I never realized how empty I felt inside until he touched me. Now I can’t imagine myself without it. #patheticAF

  For the first time since I met him, he gives me a side of him I’ve never seen before. His face shadowed with purple and blue stage lights, hooded eyes hold my gaze, darkened with desire. His lips are clamped together, his jaw firm. His chest is rising and falling with deep breaths. Shit, he’s fucking panting.

  Swallowing hard, he tugs my hand. “Let’s go.”

  And I follow because he’s right. It’s never enough without him.

  TD – Touch down.

  Excitement burns in my veins. I don’t even know how to process what just happened, the concert, and him… or what he just did to me. I can’t remember the last time a man got me off, let alone in front of hundreds of people.

  My heart pounds so loudly I feel like it’s going to jump out of my chest and flop around in front of my feet. Landon leads me back to his very expensive Bugatti Chiron that he had parked with a bodyguard outside it. I’m not even joking. He paid a guy to stand beside it the entire concert.

  “Thanks, man.” Landon hands him what looks to be a couple hundred dollars. He’s always been a good tipper.

  “No problem.” The man smiles like the pleasure is all his. I’m sure it is. “It’s not every day Landon Slade needs his car babysat.” Landon laughs, but when the guy’s eyes drift to mine, he’s not laughing anymore. “I could watch your girl for you, too.” And then he winks.

  Landon doesn’t say anything and clicks the button on the remote, his jaw tensed like he’s fighting the urge to lay the guy out.

  Smiling, I slip by Landon, brushing against his chest as I slide into the car. He watches my every move, no longer concerned with the man next to him or his comments about how much pussy he’s going to get later after he tells everyone he watched Landon’s car for him.

  Straightening his posture, Landon closes the door and then turns to the man, whispering something to him and then walking around the front of the car. While the man quickly disappears up the street, I watch Landon making his way to the driver’s side door.

  Did the last hour just happen? Did he really do that in the concert? My skin is hot, and I just might pass out with need. A quivering breath slips out when Landon slides into the seat next to me. He looks over. He doesn’t speak as his eyes run over my face before drifting down to my chest then lingering on my legs.

  My breath comes in shallow pants as he places his hand on my thigh and strokes the inside of my leg. His fingers drift up further. He’s gentle, and the emotion in his eyes—I gasp at what I see. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll take whatever he gives. “It’s fucking torture not being able to kiss you.”

  One of my hands curls around his neck to pull him closer while the other one plants itself on the hard bulge in his pants. Leaning over the best I can, I bite my bottom lip like any slutty girl would do. Only, I’ve forgotten about the blisters and the burn, and it hurts like fucking hell. Immediately, I cringe and whimper a cry.

  Landon growls, his body tensing. “Fuck, I know that probably hurt but that sexy little whimper you just made sounded just like the one you made when you came.” Shifting toward me, he traces his tongue down my neck to my collarbone, slips his hand under my shirt, and massages my breasts, his fingers pushing underneath the wire to palm my bare nipples. Taking my nipple ring between his thumb and forefinger, he slides the bar back and forth.

  Shit, that’s good. I toss my head back against the seat, pleasure zipping up my spine.

  He groans as he cups my bare breasts, his expression raw with passion, his voice ragged. “I can’t take this any longer.”

  I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he is now, begging for more.

  Leaning forward, he dips his head to my chest, yanks my shirt up and the next thing I know, his mouth is attached to my nipple. I gasp, holding onto his head like I’m breastfeeding him. I know, so gross, but from a bystander’s perspective, like the one looking through the windshield of his car, it literally looks like I’m breastfeeding the quarterback of the Seattle Seahawks. Now there’s a headline you don’t see every day.

  “Please let me fuck you,” he begs, swirling his tongue around my nipple before nipping at my oh-so sensitive flesh.

  With need and lust rippling through my veins, I want to beg him to do just that, but maybe someplace a little more private. “Not here. Not on the side of the street.”

  In the back of my mind, I’m thinking how crazy this is, and how it will change everything about our relationship. What will it mean for the kids?

  Drawing my nipple in his mouth once more, he finally lets go with a pop and then straightens himself in the seat next to me. “Fine, but we’re doing this tonight,” he says under his breath, starting the car. He takes a look at the man staring in the windshield and throws his hands up. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

  The guy yanks out his cell, and I can only assume he snaps a picture or a video. Luckily I’ve got my top straightened out, but I imagine he’s going to sell it to the tabloids by morning.

  Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Landon revs the car, the engine screaming with the action. “That motherfucker.” And then he reaches for the door handle, like he’s going to get out of the car.

  I grab his hand. “Don’t do that! That will only make it worse, and if you get out, they know it’s you. If you stay in the car, we can argue it’s not.”

  “Really?” He gestures to his car, you know, the only one like it in the city. “You don’t think they already know it’s me?”

  Smiling, I cross my arms over my chest, my breathing evening out. “Fine, Landon. Whatever. Get out of the car, cause a scene and see what happens.”

  I don’t think he likes that since he throws the car into gear, looks over his shoulder and then enters traffic, his tires squealing on the wet pavement. I’ve never been one for speed. I mean, I like it, but I get freaked out by it and end up closing my eyes in fear I’m going to die. So I do just that, and before I know it, Landon is skidding to a stop on a dark street and turning off his lights.

  He leaves the car running for a moment and then reaches forward to turn it off.

  With his breathing heavy, he looks over at me. As we sit there, a thick layer of fog rolls in. It blankets the city with pockets of glowing thick puffs of what would look to most like smoke.

  Wanting contact, his warmth, I pull his hand to mine, joining them together. Oh my God, why am I holding his h
and?

  Landon looks confused for about three seconds. Then he laughs under his breath. “Ya gonna show me your clit ring now?”

  “Maybe.”

  He growls, actually growls at me. Leaning toward me, he whispers, “Wanna go someplace with me?”

  “Where?”

  “That’s not important.” His eyes are on the stoplight, watching cars rush by, all scrambling to make it through the intersection before it turns. Some make it—two don’t. He pauses and waits for the straggler to cross the intersection. The camera perched on the light flashes to capture the white Lexus as it speeds through. “I asked if you wanted to go with me.”

  “Sure.”

  It takes me a moment to understand where he’s taking me, but the grin he keeps at bay behind his hand rubbing his jaw gives it away. When he turns onto California Way, I know. Hamilton Viewpoint. Though it’s thirty minutes or more out of the way, it doesn’t matter. The view is worth it.

  As you can imagine, with five kids at the house, time alone is never available, and the thought of going to the same place he took me the night we met and I needed someone to talk to, is one that takes me back to where everything started for us. We haven’t been here since that night. The idea has my heart skipping.

  The viewpoint is located above the beaches of Alki, and from there, you can see the port, downtown, Elliott Bay, the Cascades—the view has it all.

  Is he trying to bring back memories? The ones of foggy windows as we talked until the sun came up, getting to know one another? It was before I knew the football player, before I started working for him, and he became my friend. Someone I could never imagine my life without, and now here we are, and that friendship is changing.

  For a moment we sit here, both of us looking over the city, breathing evenly, and I’m not sure anything is going to happen when he finally speaks. “The first time I brought you up here…” His voice trails off, and he twists his head toward me. “I had no idea I’d become dependent on you in every possible way.”