Perfect Little Plan

by Jennifer Miller

  Our food arrives and we continue to make small talk throughout the meal. All the while I have to prevent myself from scarfing down my meal so I can run to the exit. The sooner I can get the hell out of here, the better – for me and for his safety.

  I’m contemplating if there are any other topics of conversation that are less toxic when I’m startled by a smooth voice that sounds like honey in my ear. A voice that makes my body respond to it immediately. “Fancy meeting you here, darlin’.”

  My breath catches as my mouth falls open, my eyes widen, and my fork clatters to my plate. I look up to find Rixton standing at my table staring at me with eyes like fire. The look on his face is intense and hard. “Rixton?” I look around to try to see who he’s with, how he is here.

  “How’s your dinner so far? I heard this was a really great place to eat so I thought I would come and check it out.” Speechless, I engulf him in one look. He’s wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, his cowboy hat and I know without looking he has his boots on too. Not exactly country club attire. What really catches my attention is the hideous lime green jacket with the country club insignia on the breast pocket he’s wearing. It was clearly given to him at the door of the club. If circumstances were different, I would likely laugh at that, but I can’t find it within me to laugh at this situation at all.

  “It’s… um… it’s fine. You are here… to eat? By yourself?”

  “Yeah, why not? A mutual friend of ours told me about this place.”

  Instant fire ignites in my stomach and moves up to my chest. Olivia. She’s the only one besides my parents that knew I would be here. Oh. Just wait until I get my hands around her tiny neck.

  “Pyper, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Rixton and I continue staring at each other, completely ignoring R.J. No way in hell am I going to introduce Rixton to R.J. “So this is the reason you were busy tonight, huh?” His drawl is heavier than usual.

  “I told you I had plans,” I express with shortness, feeling my face burn under his scrutiny.

  “So you did.” A wicked smile appears on his full lips, “Do you remember what I told you?”

  “Excuse me, sir? If you’d just follow me, I will seat you at your table.”

  Rixton looks toward the table the hostess is trying to lead him to. Looking around he points at a different table right across from mine. “I’d prefer to sit right there please, honey.”

  “Oh, um, okay.” The hostess flushes at his comment, which makes me feel aggravated. Rixton looks back to me, “Enjoy the rest of your… dinner.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, watching as he heads to his table and chooses the seat facing me. I turn away from him, determined not to let him get to me.

  R.J. is staring at me, then at Rixton, then back at me again. “Friend of yours?”

  “Yes. Sort of. He actually works at the club my best friend’s fiancé owns.”

  “Oh yeah?” R.J. takes another bite of his lasagna, and then talks to me with his mouth full. Gross. How has his father not corrected that yet? “What kind of club?”

  Without looking, I can feel Rixton’s gaze burning into me. My body feels it too. My neck tingles, my breasts feel heavier, my breathing becomes more difficult. I shift in my seat to try to soothe the unsettling feeling. “Um, it’s a dance club.”

  “That sounds fun. We should go there. I’m still going to be in town for a few more days. I’d love to grab some drinks and go out and dance. Sounds like fun. What do you say?”

  I chance a glance at Rixton out of the corner of my eye. He looks larger than life sitting with his arms across his chest, hunched in his seat. His hat is so low over his eyes I can’t actually see them, but I know they’re fixed my way.

  “You like to dance?” I am struggling with continuing this conversation. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. I can’t believe Rixton is doing this. I move my purse to my lap, open it and pretend to seek something inside. Taking my phone, I tap out a text to Olivia – you are sooo dead to me – and feel a teensy bit better.

  “Sure. One time in LA I was at a club with some friends and we totally saw…”

  Sighing, I completely tune out. He really likes to drop names. Apparently, this has worked for him in the past. I feel my phone buzz and look at it seeing Olivia has responded to me. Did you think I wouldn’t pay you back for sending Luke to mine? Payback’s a bitch, huh? I’m still going to kill her. She may have a point. I gleefully interfered in her dates, telling Luke where she would be so he could interrupt them – more than once. But, in my defense, she and Luke were so clearly right for each other. Meant to be together. They just needed a little help.

  “… so it would be fun. Don’t you think?”

  “Um, sure. Whatever.” I have no clue what he said. “Will you please excuse me? I’ll be back.”

  “Of course.” He partially rises as I stand to go to the ladies room. I try to smile, but I’m afraid it comes off as more of a grimace. Grabbing my purse, I make my way, ensuring I make eye contact with no one. As soon as I’m inside, I grip the sink with both hands and look at myself in the mirror. I can’t believe Rixton is here. I can’t believe how uncomfortable I am with this, and I can’t believe Olivia did this to me. I’m focusing on taking deep breaths in and out, trying to calm my nerves when the door slams open. I jump, startled, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel when I see Rixton’s reflection behind mine in the mirror.

  “What are you doing?! You can’t be in here!” He ignores me and stalks toward me. I turn, facing him, my back against the sink. He stands before me and moves intensely close to me. Placing a hand on the sink, on either side of my hips, it brings us eye to eye. He doesn’t say a word. He looks from my eyes, to my mouth, to my eyes again. I gasp in a breath at the look of possession in his eyes. Without saying a word, he aggressively pushes his mouth against mine.

  At first I’m taken off guard, but when his mouth starts moving against mine, pressing, demanding, and searching, all thoughts flee my mind. I want to get closer to him. Need to. I press my body against his and wrap my arms around his neck. I want to climb him like a damn monkey. His hands cup my ass and he lifts, propping me up on the sink. I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his ass, wanting him closer. When his hips align with mine, we both groan.

  He devours my mouth. His hands are in my hair, fingers pressing softly against my scalp. My hands move from his neck, to his back, nails digging. The only thought in my mind is more, more, more. I’m past caring where we are, what he does for a living, what’s expected of me or what I expect of myself. Pure carnal feelings take me over and all I care about is the man wrapped around me.

  Pushing away from me, he maneuvers his hand between our bodies, fingers brushing the lace of my panties, making me thank the gods that I wore a skirt tonight. I hear a tearing sound and realize the scrap of panties I had on, are no more. I’m bared to his finger’s manipulations and all I can think about is chasing the feelings he’s pulling from me. Tearing his mouth away from me, his eyes blaze as they stare into mine. “Do you feel that? The fire in your blood? The way your body responds to mine? Tell me now that I’m not your type.”

  I can’t. He knows I can’t.

  “Tell me that the douche at the dinner table can make you feel this way. That some guy in a stuffy suit, that cares more about his bank account than you, can make you feel like this.”

  I throw my head back, gasping for air. I move my body against his hand, rocking against him, seeking euphoria. He has me so hot for him. All I can think, feel and breathe is him. I want this. I want him. Not just now. Not just in this moment. I want lots of moments like this. I want to keep feeling like this. He kisses behind my ear and licks down the line of my neck. Just as his teeth gently bite at the tendon in my neck I can’t hold it anymore. I’m flying and seeing stars from my release, crying out from the feeling.

  Panting, I pull away from Rixton and look into his face. I decide to be honest with him. Mayb
e it’s the emotions my release has just brought forth, but I find myself being boldly honest with him, “I want more.”

  His smile is slow and devilish. He gives me a lingering kiss on the lips then pulls away. “You are going to go back to that table, excuse yourself and then get your pretty ass out the door. We are getting out of here. “

  “Rixton, I can’t. Bailing on him wouldn’t be good. He’s the son of my father’s business associate.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is, Pyper. You are not going back to dinner with him. You were mine the moment I had you screaming my name. I’m not about to let you anywhere near that guy again. You have two choices. You can go give him the courtesy of telling him you’re leaving, or we just leave without you saying anything. He’s a grown man, he can get back to his hotel. Choose.”

  He’s in complete alpha mode right now, bossing me around. Looking in his heated eyes, seeing the firm set of his mouth, the look on his face daring me to argue – it’s hot. Still feeling the after effects of his touch, I find myself nodding my head in agreement, excited to leave with him.

  I SHOULD FEEL BAD ABOUT LEAVING R.J. at the country club. The look on his face was pure confusion when he saw me walk up to his table -no doubt looking man handled- with Rixton at my side. I should also feel bad about the wine I spilled on him accidentally on purpose in order to make my escape. And of course, I should also worry about how pissed off my father is going to be when he hears about it. But, lying naked on my bed, while I watch Rixton remove his clothes, I find it difficult to find it within me to care.

  When we got to the parking lot of the restaurant, he had me pressed against the door of my car¸ kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Time and place became obscure. All that mattered was the immediate minute – the lustful needs we had. And I could not get enough. When we finally broke away from one another, I breathlessly asked, “Your place?”

  He hesitated for a moment and murmured, “Let’s go back to yours. Great memories there.” The tease in his voice balanced with the intensity and hunger in his eyes, would have caused me to agree to anything.

  We raced back as fast as we could. He followed me in his truck, all the way into the parking garage. Being apart felt nearly unbearable. We each bounded from our cars. Immediately, we were on each other – first beside my car, then in the elevator ---kissing as though our next breaths depended on appealing to the gods of desire. Once inside my condo, we left a trail of clothing from the front door to my bedroom – the majority, mine.

  Now, watching him take off his clothes is a treat. Feeling my eyes on him, he purposefully slows down so I can enjoy the show. We already lost his hat and boots on the way to the room. He then begins what seems like an excruciatingly slow production of unbuttoning his shirt, eyes fixated on me the whole time. I’m sporting nothing but a smile watching him. With legs crossed at the ankles, I get up on my elbows, paying rapt attention with a look of what I’m sure passes for pure glee on my face. It makes him laugh out loud and I chuckle at his response. Once his jeans fall from his hips, the laughter dies, and I bite my lips instead. He’s all lean lines, taut muscles, and hardness. His six-pack is actually an eight-pack, which is just plain sinful. His erection stands tall and proud against his stomach, making me feel excited at the blatant indication of his craving for me, and I feel my own body ready itself in response. What an exciting and powerful feeling knowing I can cause someone to feel that way about me.

  Crawling onto the bed like an animal stalking its prey, he stops when he gets in-between my legs, spreading them wide before him. With a wicked smile he begins kissing up my thighs, behind my knees, over my belly, on my hipbones and then places his mouth to my most sensitive part. I groan in response and grip the sheets at my side, my eyes close at the intense feeling. He takes his time ravishing me, pleasing me and I arch my back in response, murmuring, nearly purring his name like a prayer. When I fall off the cliff, my whole body clenches tight from the feeling, goose bumps breaking out all over my body and contented sighs streaming from my lips.

  He kisses his way up my body and I grip his hands in my hair pulling his mouth towards mine. Just before our lips touch he whispers, “I love the noises you make for me, Red.” Then his lips claim mine, kissing me deeply. I can feel him pressing against my belly, ready and eager to become one. I lift my hips, a silent invitation making it clear that I want him too. When we come together, we both gasp from the feeling and there is nothing but him. Nothing but this moment. I remember our first night together and how we had the birth control conversation. I’ve been on the pill for years and right now, I’m grateful. The feeling of us skin to skin is amazing.

  We find a comfortable rhythm and move together, creating our own dance. His mouth is all over me – from my lips and neck, to my chest and breasts. For a brief moment, I worry my nails dig a little too hard, but the sounds he’s making tell me he loves it. He makes me lose control and forget myself, each reaction instinctual. Stoke by stroke, move by move, I get higher and higher. In no time, he’s got me falling off the edge again, the spasms of my body bringing him to completion as well.

  He collapses on me, careful not to relax his entire weight on me. “Red, you are going to kill me. What is it about you? About us?”

  I shrug I think, but movement feels difficult, “I don’t know. Wish I did.”

  He rolls next to me and pulls me into his side. I rest my head on his heart and feel it pounding underneath my cheek, the sound making me know he’s just as affected as I am. His embrace and fingers running up and down my spine, soothe something inside me I don’t quite understand. My eyes feel heavy, and a smile touches my lips as I succumb to sleep.

  Waking up with Rixton in my bed is completely different than the last time. I am immediately aware of his presence; our legs and bodies are entwined together. It’s still dark outside. I don’t know how long I was asleep. An hour? Two? His breathing is deep and I just lay there quietly, enjoying his restfulness, not wanting to wake him.

  My room is almost pitch black and I can just make out the outline of his body in the dark. I feel contentment with him next to me, until my mind starts racing and running turning and the reality of the moment overtakes me. I feel panicky and begin easing my body away from his, needing space. I exit the bed and stand watching this man – this man I have craved – sleep. Soundly. Peacefully. While the rage is roaring inside me.

  What am I doing? I’ve slept with him again. Sure, his actions at the restaurant were a turn on but I can’t keep doing this – to me, to us. It isn’t right. This isn’t going to go anywhere – it can’t. Right? He’s the exact opposite of what I’m expected to be with. He works at a bar for God’s sake and appears to just take life as it comes his way. I would be surprised if he had a direction, a purpose, goals. That… that doesn’t work for me.

  Trying not to hyperventilate, consumed by my thoughts, I grab my robe from the back of my closet door and quietly leave the room, looking back at the threshold to make sure he’s still asleep. Sighing and in near tears, I pour myself a glass of wine and sit in the living room, thankful that Luke and Olivia are not here. The last thing I need is either one of them to pay witness to this, again. Not that I won’t tell Olivia anyway, but telling and seeing are two very different things.

  What am I doing? I can’t believe I gave into my stupid hormones again. A daughter of a man like my father is supposed to act a certain way. I was raised differently than this. I remember the etiquette and proper speech classes I had when I was younger. Most kids had music or soccer practice on the weekends, while I was learning which utensil to use first during meal time and how to properly shake hands when you meet someone.

  When I was younger, acting out was not tolerated. My mom once told me I threw a tantrum at a restaurant due to a combination of being tired and not liking the twisted noodles of my macaroni and cheese instead of the half-moons Mrs. B made for me. There happened to be a photographer at the restaurant we were at and at the time, my fat
her was on one of those stupid ‘Sexiest Entrepreneurs in America’ lists. I guess a newspaper article came out with a picture of me at the table mid-cry and my father’s stern face looking at me across the table. They published an article where the context was about if men that are successful in the boardroom can be successful in the household – as a father and husband. The picture of me taking center stage. I don’t remember the incident at all, but I do remember my time with my father in public places was less frequent for some time. It was preached to me that my father was a powerful man, with a lot to lose, so each and every move in public with him was eventually orchestrated. I hated it.

  I’m startled out of my thoughts when Rixton clears his throat. I look up to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. My eyes trail over his body, taking in the jeans that are hanging so low on his hips, it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath them. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head at him, “Nothing’s wrong. Just thinking.”

  His brow furrows, “Thinking about what?”

  Deciding to be truthful I blurt, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “What do you mean? Doing about what?”

  I gesture between the two of us, “I mean with us.”

  He walks over to the couch, and sits next to me. He looks in my face and his eyes flash to my lips then back again. He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re regretting being with me?” I don’t answer. I just stare at him, trying to work out in my mind how exactly I want to answer his question. Being with him is the most divergent experience of my life. On one hand, he makes me feel wonderful. I feel safe, sexy, and am able and comfortable with being myself. But, on the other hand, everything about him and us contradicts with what I’m supposed to be doing. How I should be feeling is messing with my head. I never anticipated this. That I could find myself – allow myself to be found – in this situation. He sighs and grabs my hands, “If nothing else, I think we should always be honest with each other, do you agree?”