Jesus Christ.
In any other situation, I would have loved it. I would have taken pride in having a woman looking like she looked, dressed how she was dressed hanging off my arm.
But she wasn't dressed like that for me.
She was dressed like that for other men.
“Is this too much?” she asked self-consciously as I stared at her. “Shay told me it would work for like... all the bars and clubs, but I am seriously starting to question her fashion sense.”
I felt my lips quirk up. She was still my Ava. Even if she looked like a sex kitten. “It's a nice dress,” I said as I moved toward her, “but it looks extraordinary on you,” I clarified as my hand rose to skim across the mesh covering her belly. I took a deep breath, expecting to inhale the sweet vanilla scent that always clung to her, a scent that matched her perfectly. Instead, it was something else. Sharper. Stronger. “You don't smell like you,” I said and it came out like an accusation.
“Shay's perfume.”
“Your eyes,” I said, holding in a sigh. It was all just... too fucking much. She didn't need it. She was her own brand of simple, understated beauty without all the adornments.
“Fake eyelashes,” she explained. “Apparently they make my eyes pop or something.”
“They popped just fine on their own,” I told her, my hand moving to stroke her cheek.
She took a slow, shaky breath. “Should I take them off?” she asked, the vulnerability clear in her tone.
“No,” I said, shaking my head and dropping my hand. “They're fine. Most guys will appreciate the effort.” Guys who didn't realize she was perfect bare-faced in jeans and a tee.
“So, um,” she mumbled, looking down at her own feet. The insecurity started to hum around her like an aura. “Where are we going?”
“You're nervous,” I observed as her gaze stayed downcast.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I've never been good with the whole... flirting thing.”
I took a breath, feeling my jaw get tense. “That's what I'm here for. To teach you.” I paused and when my mouth opened again, I said something I hadn't been planning to, something that was just a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable, “We're going to start at a restaurant. Get some food in your stomach to help with the anxiety...” Her eyes flew up to mine, her brows drawn together. “I'm assuming you have, once again, not eaten before coming here.”
“No,” she admitted with a shrug.
“Alright,” I said, reaching to open the door behind her. “Let's go. It's getting late.”
I clenched my hands into fists at my side, forcing myself to not touch her. In fact, I kept a good foot between us at all time. If I touched her, it would only make things worse.
So we got in the car and I drove to A Restaurant, parking out front. I opened her door but didn't help her out even though I felt her eyes boring into me. When she climbed out, the sound of her genuine laughter made my face turn to her to find her bent half forward as she looked at the hellhole I had brought her to.
“Seriously?” she asked, still laughing, the sound making a warm sensation sweep through my body.
And just like that, my shields fell.
“Don't judge it by how it looks,” I said, letting my hand land on her hip.
“So what does A Restaurant serve?” she asked as I led her inside. I let out a small laugh that had her turning her head to look at me, brows drawn together. “I don't trust that laugh,” she told me as I reached for two menus after being told to 'plant ourselves anywhere'.
I led her to a table and handed her a menu, smiling to myself.
“Really?” she asked, looking up with a big smile after reading that her choices were: chicken, cow, pig, or green stuff. “So is food poisoning a part of the plan or just an added benefit?”
I opened my mouth to answer when the waitress walked over and barked, “What do you want?”
Ava looked at me, shaking her head and I ordered us each chicken.
“Truly a charming little establishment,” Ava said as the waitress walked away.
“You'll understand when you try the food. So Ava,” I said, making my tone slip into the professional curiosity that belonged to a therapist, “when was the last time you had a date?”
A darkness came over her features but she shrugged. “Over a year ago. Probably closer to two.”
“How did that go? Where did you meet? Was it just one date?”
“Online dating site,” she said with a blush. “We went to dinner. It was... forced and... awkward.”
“And? I pressed.
“And we went back to his place,” she said, her voice small as her pointer finger started rubbing along a dent on the wooden tabletop.
She didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't a good memory. Which was all the more reason she needed to talk about it.
“Even though it was forced and awkward?”
“Yeah.” More rubbing.
“Why?”
She shrugged a little. “I figured I would give it another shot.”
I fought the urge to reach across the table, take that hand that she was worrying against the table, and wrap it in mine.
“It didn't go well.”
Her face fell even further. “No.”
“Ava...” I started in a tone that was demanding more than what she was telling me. She picked up on it and stiffened. But then the food was dropped noisily on the table, effectively cutting off the conversation.
“No more online dating,” I told her.
“What? Why not?”
“Because it's too easy for you. You get to hide behind your computer screen and find the match who is the least threatening. You'll slip right back into your shell. You need to... get out and experience things, Ava.”
“Well,” she said, shifting uncomfortably, “I am experiencing the best chicken I've ever had in my life,” she said, trying to end the conversation.
“Ava...”
“I don't want a lecture, Chase,” she snapped, making my brow raise at her tone.
“I wasn't...”
“Yes,” she said, her tone firm, “you were. And you were being a condescending ass about it too.”
Damn.
She was right.
But also... damn she was fucking sexy as hell when she was riled.
“Good for you,” I said, nodding at her.
“Good for me, what?”
“Standing up for yourself,” I said, smiling. “Even if you're wrong.”
“I'm not wrong,” she countered, getting more and more annoyed. “I don't know what is up with you tonight, but you're kind of being a jerk and it's annoying.”
“Annoying?” I asked, close to laughing.
“Yes. Annoying. And frustrating,” she said, nodding for emphasis. “Why are you smiling?” she asked, her eyes lowered at me.
“A couple weeks ago,” I started, “do you think you would have been able to call me an ass, a jerk, annoying, and frustrating... to my face?”
Realization hit her face. “Probably not.”
“Definitely not.”
“So... what?” she asked, sounding riled again. “This was some kind of a test?”
“Not really, no,” I said, not able to admit to her what it really was- me trying to protect myself.
“So you're just in a foul mood for no good reason?”
I watched her for a minute, the urge to tell her so strong that I didn't trust myself to speak until I got myself under control.
“I have a good reason, but it is inconsequential. Anyway,” I said, pushing my plate away. I needed to steer the conversation into safer territory. “We are going to Chaos from here.”
I watched as that information settled. She pushed her plate away and reached for her water. “I'm ready when you are,” she said in a way that suggested that was as far from the truth as possible.
I nodded thou
gh, throwing down money and leading her back out to the car. We both wanted to get the god-forsaken night over with.
We walked up to Chaos ten minutes later, bypassing the line because I was on the list. I led her inside and into the VIP lounge, knowing she was nowhere near ready for the swarm that was the downstairs common area. She probably had her heart in her throat just thinking of being trapped down there.
I brought her to the bar and ordered a scotch for me and a martini for her.
“Sit here and wait,” I said, turning away before she could ask questions. I wanted a minute to observe her comfort level when she was alone with the threat of men approaching.
There was a man at the end of the bar trying to catch her eye and she ducked her head, letting her hair fall like a curtain to block him from her. The man made a move to approach her and I closed in. She wasn't ready for that yet.
“Hi,” I said, sliding into the chair next to her, moving my legs so they blocked her in.
“Hi...” she said uncertainly.
“My name's Chase,” I said, extending my hand to her.
Her lips twitched a little as she caught on. “I'm Alexandra Feodorovna,” she said, giving me a sweet, innocent smile.
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, but the smile was beyond my control. “You look damn good for someone who died by firing squad almost a hundred years ago.”
“I moisturize,” she said, not missing a beat and there was no way to control it, I burst out laughing.
“This isn't going to work if you don't take it seriously,” I said as I recovered.
“Sorry. It just... feels weird,” she admitted.
“What does? Flirting with me? Baby, I've been inside you.”
Her mouth fell slightly open. Her pupils dilated. Her thighs pressed together.
“Sorry,” I said, not fucking sorry at all. “I didn't mean to get you all hot and bothered.”
“I'm not,” she said way too quickly for it to be true.
“Really?” I asked, my hand landing high on her thigh. “I could... check that out for you. Just to make sure,” I teased, my fingers slipping under the hem of her skirt that had hitched up almost indecently when she sat. If I shifted my fingers the slightest bit, they would make contact with her panties. I would bet everything in my bank account that she was wet for me, right there in the middle of a crowded club. Her body jerked as she felt my finger trace the space where her thighs touched, making her almost fall off the chair. “Okay,” I said, pulling my hand away, trying to gain some control. “Sorry.” I wasn't sorry at all. “I'll stop.” I needed to stop.
“I don't want you to stop,” she said a little breathlessly.
Fuck me.
God.
She was so fucking sexy and she didn't even know it.
She was going to be the death of me before the night was over.
I leaned closer, letting my mouth get close to her ear. “Believe me babe, I don't want to stop either. I want to drag you out of here, throw you in my car, and watch you ride me until you're screaming my name.” She took a shaky breath and pressed her thighs more tightly together. “But I can't do that,” I said, letting the words be full of the regret I was feeling. “Tonight you aren't mine to have.”
Her eyes flashed and it was gone too soon to see with what, but then she moved away from me so we were no longer touching. “Okay. So what now? You're leaving?”
“No. I'll be here. If you need me, come get me. Or call me. I'll keep an eye on you. If someone is really bothering you...”
“I got it, Chase,” she cut me off, her tone a little sharp, leaving me to wonder where I had fucked up again.
“Ava...” I started, my tone soft.
“I said I got it,” she said, standing suddenly, grabbing her drink, and moving away from me. She went toward the balcony, looking down into the crowd below. She seemed relatively calm. Meanwhile, I felt like someone had my guts in a vice grip and was twisting them viciously.
It was a sensation that only increased when the man who had been eyeing Ava earlier finally got up the balls to make a move. He was tall and broad with dirty blonde hair. Judging by his suit and the fact that he could afford the VIP lounge, he was well off. Probably secure, confident, experienced.
That was exactly what she needed.
When he led her down to the dance floor, his hand on her hip, I just about lost it.
“Dr. Hudson!” a woman's voice greeted me as I glared at Ava and the guy as they got toward the center of the dance floor.
I tore my eyes away from them and looked over to find Natalie. It was a small fucking world. “Nat,” I said, giving her a genuine smile. Shit may have gone south (and in a very nasty way) with us in college, but that was forever ago and we had shared a passionate (albeit tumultuous) relationship for a year. I had just as many fond memories of her as I had bad ones.
She looked good. A little older, a little less plump around the cheekbones, a few creases next to her eyes. Still gorgeous. Tall. Thin. Shapely. Her tits were all but spilling out of her dress which, at twenty-something was flirty, at thirty-something was a little less cute and more like bordering on desperate. Still, it was sexy. She was sexy. Time only seemed to make the sexually confident aura she wore around her magnify.
“You look good,” she said, looking me up and down. “Time's been kind to you.”
“You're as gorgeous as ever, Natalie,” I said. It was the simple truth.
“Chasing skirts?” she asked, gesturing to the empty space next to me.
“Working,” I said.
“Ah,” she said, nodding. “Surrogate thing, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Mae really got to you, huh?” she asked, not bothering to sit. She knew it wasn't that kind of run-in.
“It's an important job,” I said, shrugging. I wasn't going to betray Mae to Nat. Those two never got along after Nat and I broke up.
“What time will you be done?” she asked, an obvious inflection in her voice.
I could do it.
There would be nothing wrong with it.
I could drop off Ava and call Nat.
I could roll her around the sheets until it took the edge off of my frustration.
I could do it.
But it wasn't right.
It didn't feel right.
“Not tonight, Nat,” I said, shaking my head.
Undeterred, she shrugged. “How about I call you and we set something up?”
I glanced over toward the dance floor to see Ava dancing way too close, way too sexually with the lucky asshole who approached her and I felt the vice grip twist again.
“Sure,” I said, standing. “Call my office. We'll figure something out.”
Then I was gone, tearing down the steps, pushing through the crowd. But I didn't approach. I held myself back, finding some kind of restraint I hadn't been sure I possessed. I leaned against the wall. I watched. I waited. I saw her take more than two drinks. I saw the guy's hands roam over her body. I saw that she didn't flinch away.
Finally, I couldn't fucking take it anymore.
“You're so gorgeous,” he told her, rightfully so.
“Thank you,” she agreed easily.
“Ava...” I broke in, tone way too stern.
Her entire body stiffened and she untangled herself from her partner.
“She said she ain't with you, bud,” the guy broke in. There was steel under his tone that I would have appreciated if she was just another client. He was willing to stand up for her. But she wasn't just any other client.
“She was mistaken. Ava, it's time to go.”
Ava stiffened all the more, but refused to turn to look at me. “No. I think I'm good here, Chase. Thanks for your concern. You may leave without me.” She sounded like a robot. But her words slurred slightly.
“Ava...”
“I said go, Chase,” she snapped.
Rea
lly... what choice did I have? I couldn't exactly drag her out of there.
I turned and left.
Not really though.
No fucking way in hell was I just going to leave her alone at a club, drunk, with a guy she didn't know from Adam. I went outside and I waited.
I didn't have to wait long.
It was only a couple of minutes before she burst out of the front doors, moving fast.
“Ava...” I called. Her eyes snapped to mine and they were full of panic. “Hey... babe...” I said, my tone softening automatically. Her eyes stayed on mine for a minute and slowly filled with tears before she turned and started walking in the opposite direction of me. My arm went around her waist before she got two feet away. “It's alright,” I murmured, steering her away from the crowd. “Take a breath, Ava,” I said as we rounded an abandoned side of the building. She tried, but the air got stuck in her chest. “Hey,” I said, pressing her back against the building and cradling her face. “Look at me.” Her eyes slid up slowly. “Breathe. You're okay. I'm right here.”
The tears brimmed over and slid down her cheeks. She sucked in a breath and leaned against my chest, against her spot, against the safest place in her world. I slid my arms slowly around her.
It wasn't long before she pulled away, wiping her cheeks furiously.
“You alright, baby?”
“Yeah, I... it was too crowded and loud and hot. I couldn't fight it anymore.”
“You should have left with me.”
Her eyes dropped to my collar. “I was having a good time.”
I felt the muscle in my jaw start to tick. “What did you say to your friend?”
“I gave him a fake number and I just... ran.”
“A fake number, huh?” I asked, smiling. That had a certain someone written all over it. “I'm assuming that was Shay's idea.”
“Yeah it's the number of someone she hates.”
I felt myself snort as I slipped out of my jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “She's got a good head on her shoulders.”
Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) Page 15
