Broken Records

by Cassie Mae

  Maybe he was right. I shift from one foot to the other and force a smile. I refuse to let Ethan see what Kevin does. “Okay, think about it.”

  I go to walk away, and Ethan’s voice stops me.

  “Get her contact info.”

  I spin around, shock and disbelief coursing through me erupting into realization as the corner of his lip quirks.

  “Seriously!” I exclaim.

  He nods again and kicks off the wall. “She was good.”

  “Ha! I told you.” Unable to control the emotions consuming me, I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

  He doesn’t move, and once again I’m afraid I overstepped the boundaries. We’re sex buddies. Hugging is for friends and people in relationships. I go to push away when his hand rests on my lower back and presses me back to him.

  I close my eyes, taking in that ocean air scent and resting my head against the crook of his neck.

  After a moment, his hand drops, and he steps away. He shoves his fists back in his pocket and nods to the coffee shop. “So Jimmy…” he says. “Are you two…?”

  “Are we…?” My eyes widen as I understand what he’s asking. “No. I’m not exactly his type.” I laugh at the confusion streaking Ethan’s beautiful face. “He’s gay.”

  “Oh.”

  I slide my teeth over my lip ring and blink up, catching Ethan’s eyes. “I know what we’re doing is just sex, but I’m not with anyone else right now.”

  “Good to know.” He shrugs. “And same.”

  “Good to know.” I smile.

  “So can I give you a ride home?”

  “I prefer to walk. I’m restricted at home on the couch, so I like to be in open places as much as possible. Plus, the walk usually exhausts me, so by the time I get home, I can just collapse and go to sleep without having to hear the noises coming out of my roommates’ bedrooms.”

  “Then can I walk you home?”

  “You don’t have to. Really.”

  “I want to.”

  I catch those gorgeous gray eyes softening, and I couldn’t say no if I wanted to. “Okay then.”

  We start walking again, and I reach into my pocket, pulling out a napkin with writing. I hand it to him, and his eyes narrow. “What is this?”

  “Bailey’s contact information.”

  “Let me guess you were going to force it on me even if I didn’t ask?”

  “You know me well,” I say, and he looks like he was just jolted with a stun gun. Like he didn’t realize how well we both know each other. It might just be sex, but I know more about him than the average sex buddy. I know beneath the suit is a boy who wants to make his dad proud even though his dad never made him proud. He has amazing taste in music when he allows himself to listen to it. When he gets angry, his jaw ticks in rhythm with his breathing. I know he kisses with fire and passion, and when he orgasms, his face is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen it. All the worry lines smooth out, and he looks happy for those few seconds of release.

  “Monkey Wrench, huh,” I say, hoping to move past the awkward silence. “Have to say, I’m constantly impressed by your taste in music.”

  “How do you know I like Monkey Wrench?” he asks.

  I tap my finger against the logo on his shirt. “You wear it on your heart.” I wink and pull my finger away. He reaches up, trapping my hand against his heart. I can feel the steady beat, the warmth radiating off of him and mixing with my own heat.

  “They’re a good band.”

  “They’re great,” I counter.

  “Warped Tour ‘08.”

  “That was an awesome lineup that year.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “I have every Warped Tour Album on my iPod. ‘08 is one of my favorite years.”

  His eyes change from soft and playful to dark and lustful. It’s the same look he gets right before he kisses me. I brace myself, desperate to feel his lips against mine, wishing I could kiss them whenever I want. Not having to wait for when one of us needs to use the other. I want him to kiss me because he wants to. Because he can’t imagine doing anything else in the moment.

  He drops his hand, and mine goes with his. His fingers lace with mine like he wants to let go, but he’s not quite sure. Finally, he takes his hand back, shoving it into his pocket and continues to walk.

  I ignore the disappointment in my heart and fall in step beside him. Kissing Ethan is like the cherry on top of a good sundae, but talking with him and just being near him is the hot fudge. I like both, and I’ll take what I can get.

  “So, I can’t believe you fired all those people.”

  He smiles like he’s grateful I took control of the conversation. “I didn’t fire them. I gave them an option, and they chose to leave.”

  “Did you expect all those people to walk out?”

  He presses his lips together as if in deep thought, and then he shakes his head. “No. But it’s okay. It showed me who the weak links were. Who wasn’t willing to work hard to get the label to where it needs to be.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It showed me who didn’t believe in me. I’m happy they’re gone.”

  “I bet you were happy to see Nora go.”

  He laughs. “If I had fireworks with me, I would have set them off in celebration. She was a pain in my ass.”

  “She was a little anal retentive and conceited in her own way, but she was nice, I guess.”

  “Was she your friend?”

  I think about it for a second. Other than Jimmy and my sister, I don’t do friends. After the disaster in New York, I don’t trust anyone enough to consider them friends. A few acquaintances, but nothing more.

  “Not really. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever hear from her again.”

  “If I never hear from her again, it will be too soon.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “It’s honest.”

  I laugh, and it feels good. My apartment comes in view too quickly and for the first time ever, I wished I lived farther. “This is me.” I point up to the building.

  “I know,” he says.

  “Oh, that’s right. You’ve been here before.”

  He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. Why don’t we just pretend that never happened?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “You’re going to hold that against me forever, aren’t you?”

  I liked the word forever, but I won’t get caught up on it. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a figure of speech. Still, I can think of a lot worse things than forever with Ethan Davis.

  I suck my lip ring into my mouth and meet his eyes. “It’s the night I realized there was more to Mr. Fancy Tie. It was the night I met Ethan Davis. There’s no way in hell I want to forget that.”

  I think I rendered him speechless, so I take a step toward him and rest my hand against his chest, lifting up on tiptoe. “Goodnight, Ethan,” I say against his ear and press a quick kiss to his cheek. I pull away before I lose all self-control and throw myself at him.

  He sucks in a jagged breath as I go back down on flat feet.

  I head for the door and stop.

  “Hey, Ethan.”

  He turns back to me. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for walking me home.”

  He nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. Don’t be late.”

  His words make me laugh. “You should see the calf muscles I have from taking the stairs.”

  His eyes drop to my legs, and he stares hungrily. With a deep breath, he meets my gaze. “Night, Paige.”

  “Night,” I say and hurry into the building before my heart is left on the sidewalk with Ethan.

  I stay in front of Paige’s place longer than I mean to. It’s not until she peeks out from behind her upper floor curtains and catches me still gazing stupidly up at her apartment that I shake myself out of it and start back to the café to get my car.

  Yeah… I’m definitely more than attracted to this woman; I’m absolutely enamored. There’s a fog su
rrounding me as I make my way down the block. It’s so thick that I’m almost certain I need to turn around and at least give Paige a goodnight kiss. I get to the corner before I am thoroughly convinced that it is exactly what I need to do.

  Taking the trip back at a pace that is twice the speed of what I walked before, my heart and brain battle out what exactly I’m going to say to her when I knock on her door. I should probably go with nothing, since my words will most likely get me into trouble.

  I take the stairs two at a time up to Paige’s floor. Without thinking to take a minute to catch my breath, I tap a knuckle against the peeling wood, then rest an arm against the frame while I wait, my chest rising up and down like I’ve just run one hell of a marathon.

  What am I thinking? She’s probably trying to sleep, or maybe she’s showering, getting undressed, or propped up with a pillow on the arm of the couch, earbuds tucked snug in her ears while she flips through song after song on her playlist. A rush of idiocy trickles down from the top of my head, and I push from the door and slowly back away. We aren’t these people—people who kiss without it moving to the bedroom, people who hold hands, people who feel anything more than simple sexual pleasure to ease whatever tension we’re dealing with. I don’t want to scare her away, and I really don’t want her getting caught on camera and having her face show up next to mine in the newest Ethan Davis story.

  My ass hits the railing behind me before I get a hold of myself. I grab at the back of my head and start toward the stairs when I hear the deadbolt snap open.

  If I thought I was ever having a heart attack before, it’s nothing to how my heart is beating now. Paige looks down the hall, eyebrows rising at me standing halfway down the first set of stairs. She crosses her arms over an oversized t-shirt, pulling it up enough for me to notice she isn’t wearing much underneath. My mouth pools, and I swallow hard, hoping all my words stay locked up.

  “Long time, no see,” she jokes, leaning up against the hallway wall. “You forget something?”

  It takes me too long to process my answer—long enough that Paige’s playful smile turns into a thin line that make me believe she is concerned about my mental health. Even silent, I find her to be one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Beautiful, confident, witty, passionate… I’ve gone so far past physical attraction, a casual fling, that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to that. I don’t think I want to.

  For three minutes tonight, I was able to listen to the sound of pure guitar, thoughtful lyrics, and mesmerizing vocals… without hating every second of it. It was only three minutes, but it was enough.

  I pull myself up the stairs and close the distance between the two of us. Her green eyes widen when I cup her face in both hands, weaving my fingers into the tangled mess of her red hair. I hear a soft thud against the wall as I step into her, and my mouth comes down on hers gentler than I’ve ever kissed a woman before, but not without making the message clear—I am forever grateful for what she’s done for me tonight.

  Her hands flutter up my sides, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt and coaxing me for more. I want to savor her taste, her scent, the feel of her in my hands. She’s allowing me to be in control, something that has always been equally shared during our trysts. I find my lips curling up in an amused grin, even with her lips pressed against mine. I can say without a doubt that I’ve never felt this before—a kiss that caused such happiness I could not contain it. I close my mouth over her bottom lip, tug, and suckle, diving into the new and addicting sensations while I’m granted permission to have them. I do the same to her top lip, repeat and repeat while my heart thumps between our chests. Through the mind fog, the reminder that this is not the relationship we have prods at my brain, but despite the niggling, I convince myself that perhaps it could be.

  It’s a miracle I manage to pull away from the haven of her mouth. Our lips disconnect with a soft pop, but everywhere else stays still for just a moment while my mind slowly catches up to the rest of me. I press my forehead against hers, slowly taking my hands from the softness of her cheeks. She shakes out her fingers, leaving wrinkles in my shirt.

  My lips turn up in a half smile. “Goodnight, Paige.”

  She lets out a breathless laugh, her green eyes flicking up under long eyelashes. “I’ll say.”

  I don’t know how the hell I do it, but my foot carefully takes a step away from her. She drunkenly fumbles back into her room, and I grin like a damn fool. I imagine I will be carrying the same gait when I manage to actually walk away from her.

  “Paige,” I say, stopping her halfway through shutting her door. “Come to my place after work tomorrow? I want to show you something.”

  Her eyes deliberately skate down to my already straining jeans. “Already seen it,” she teases with a wink.

  I let out a chuckle and run a hand over the back of my neck. “Is that a no?”

  She bites away a smile, her eyes dropping to the door handle. “I suppose I can squeeze you into my schedule. Unless you’re a jackass tomorrow.”

  “I make no promises.”

  “Then neither do I.” She grins and starts to pull the door closed. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

  I echo her laugh from before, along with her sentiment. “I’ll say.”

  I get a peek of her mouth split open in a musical laugh before she finally shuts the door. The feeling of elation is so foreign to me that I’m not sure how I’m going to make it home without getting lost a few times.

  Chuckling to myself, I dig into my pocket for my phone and a set of earbuds I keep in there to give the illusion that the CEO of a record label actually listens to music.

  I plug them into the cell and search in Spotify for Paige’s playlists. Luckily, I find it pretty quickly. Tilting my head at her diverse taste in music, I hit her country tracks. My thumb hovers over the play button as I settle the earbuds in.

  Three minutes. I can picture Paige for three minutes. She’s a much calmer inspiration than my old man any day.

  I take a deep breath, calming the thudding of my heart, and press play.

  It’s not like I’ve never been to Ethan’s house before. Heck, I was naked in his shower. So why is it that every butterfly on the West Coast has taken up refuge in my stomach, fluttering around in a tizzy? It could have something to do with the three iced coffees I had today; whenever I have something on my mind, coffee is usually my answer. Except this time it only added to my racing heart and rattled nerves.

  That kiss last night was of epic proportions. The type of kiss you assume only exists in movies and in romance novels. Kisses like that don’t just happen every day. Definitely not with just anyone either. I was with Kevin for five years and never once did his kisses ever feel like that. He never made my toes curl, or my body flood with so much desire I couldn’t decipher between chills and lust.

  The way Ethan kissed me makes me think we’re beyond sex buddies. Maybe just maybe he’s fallen as deep as I have.

  With that thought, I slide into the backseat of the waiting car Ethan had emailed me about earlier. Reg mans the driver’s seat, and I offer a wave.

  “Hey, Reg.”

  “Miss Teller.”

  “We’ve gone over this. It’s just Paige,” I say, reminding him of our conversation the last time he drove me.

  “Okay then, Miss Teller. I mean Paige. Mr. Davis phoned down and said he got held up but will be with us shortly.”

  “Do you ever get sick of waiting around for him?” I ask with a laugh so he knows it’s all in good fun.

  “Of course not. It’s my job.”

  Figuring I have time to pass, and since I genuinely like Reg, I continue with the questions. “How long have you been Ethan’s driver?”

  “Trying to fish information out of me, Miss Paige?”

  I laugh at the fact he can’t drop the Miss even though he’s using my first name. “Just curious.”

  “I’ve been Mr. Davis’s driver for many years. Since he was a little boy.”


  “What was he like?” I don’t mean to pry, but this is the only person I’ve met who knew Ethan before he was CEO. Before he inherited a company from his father. He knew the boy I could see beneath the suit.

  Reg laughs, a throaty and amused noise. “He was a pain in my butt who liked to tell me where to go and how to drive. But he was a good kid. Adventurous, fun, kind, and always polite. Even when he was telling me how to do my job, he still said please and thank you. ”

  I smile, thinking of a little Ethan trying to take control but still remembering the values he was taught.

  “His teenage years and into his twenties… well, let’s just say I like this Mr. Davis much better.”

  “And you knew his father?” The original Mr. Davis is an icon. The world knows who he was, and I can find out information about him just by Googling his name. But I don’t know what kind of father he was.

  Reg nods. “I was his driver first.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He was a businessman through and through. There wasn’t much else he talked about. I remember back in the day when he would give me cassette tapes to pop into the player on our drives. He would know if he liked them after the first note. If he didn’t, he’d tell me to stop the horrible noise and toss it out the window.”

  I laugh, thinking of how many broken dreams laid scattered about the road back then.

  “Did he and Ethan get along?”

  Reg was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. “You have to have a relationship in order to get along. I’m not sure they ever really had one.”

  My heart breaks for the boy in the graduation picture, whose dad couldn’t even put his phone down to celebrate for one moment. For the boy who was clearly trying to fill the shoes of a man who never gave him the confidence that he was more than capable. Who didn’t even bother showing him the ropes before burdening him with such a massive responsibility. Did he think giving him the company would make up for all the years he wasn’t there?

  Poor Ethan. I know what it’s like to try and live up to somebody else’s standards. In the end, no one wins.

  “I bet it makes you happy to see the good kid grow into a good man.”