There are a ton of bars on The Ave. We could have gone to any number of them, and probably should have… but truthfully, I wanted him to see me. Meggie and I saunter up to the bouncer on the patio stairs in our heels and he automatically waves us in. After sharing a glance, we giggle before walking into the flap of the tented patio. The white material billows up into two points above the patio and the light filters through, casting an eerie ambiance. My eyes scan the crowd.
Meggie catches my eye. “I don’t see him, Bee.”
I look away. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She smiles. “You know exactly who I am talk about.” She guides me across the patio to the outside bar, conveniently squeezing in between a pair of guys, and places our drink order.
“Oh, excuse me, boys.” Meggie is the queen of striking up conversation. The bartender places the drinks on the bar top and I happen to notice one of the guys reaching for his wallet.
“Let me get those for you, doll,” he offers.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” Meggie starts and I roll my eyes. She definitely could possibly, and he is totally being played.
They exchange a few words before she passes me one of the drinks. She waves to them as we walk away arm in arm.
“I don’t know how you do it.” I giggle in her ear.
“Men are suckers.” She wiggles her fingers at a bouncer in the doorway to the back entrance of the club and we slip inside. “It’s almost like they deserve it. You see, Becca, you can let them play you—Or you can play them first.”
“That’s no way to be, Meggie.”
“That’s the only way to be.” She lifts her drink to her lips and swallows a gulp.
My head nods before glancing around, just one more time. John is stationed in his usual spot against the far wall, overlooking the dance floor. His stern glare surveys the area as groups of girls gravitate to the dance floor in front of him. He has a vibe about him that begs to be enjoyed. Tonight, I want to give in. I crave spontaneity and adventure the way a college girl should. But most of all, I want to be that way with him.
Quite a few songs later, Meggie and I are bopping about on the dance floor. She mimics a girl in a short black skirt, attempting to grind. A snort escapes my nose, thankfully hidden by the loud music. Meggie is cracking me up tonight. It’s just like old times, she and I. Boy free and carefree. I take a sip of the drink in my hand again, twirling into another loop around Meggie. I throw my head back for a laugh when my eyes meet his. Deep, blue, and drop dead gorgeous. Hair slicked back and his collared shirt is begging to be tugged on. He doesn’t glance away this time. His eyes watch me as I lip sync and dance about to the song, finding I can’t tear my eyes away from his, either. There’s something about John. Behind those eyes, something speaks to me. The lights play across his face; or maybe it’s my fuzzy eyesight. He scans the dance floor before once again returning to me. A shiver runs down my spine. Tonight is the night.
I don’t know when I made the decision, but by the time my mind clicks back to the present, I’m walking toward John, who is still standing against the wall. His arms are crossed; face is glancing at anything and everything besides my approaching figure. I can’t help but notice his fists keep clenching at his sides. I weave my way through the crowd before spinning and leaning on the wall beside him. Girls before us sway this way and that, struggling to make eye contact with him. I study them all, their glazed-over looks as they sneak peeks. My eyes curiously gravitate to his. They are not straightforward; they are stealing a glance through the side—The side that I am on.
Those hands release their rock hard grip across his chest and fall to his sides. My hand is millimeters from his. There’s heat emanating from it, drawing me closer, and electrifying me as it pulls me in. I steal a glance at him again; those blue eyes are fully on me now.
Something on my left surges me forward. Our hands fumble and I’m tumbling headfirst. Big hands wrap around the top of my arms and pull me right side up again. John’s face comes into focus directly in front of me, deep blue eyes inspecting me while his hands run their way over my body. Words become stuck in my throat. A part of me wants to tell him I’m okay – the other part, however, wants him to touch me. No, strike that – the other part needs his hands to touch me.
“Are you okay?” I read his lips. The commotion has brought over a few other bouncers, the flock of girls shrieking around us. There are two girls still involved in a scuffle on the floor beside me before bouncers tear them apart, screaming something lost over the music. The two huge bouncers nod to John as they pass us, carrying the girls out of the club. I’m shaken again. “Are you okay?”
His voice comes louder this time, and his face seems closer to mine than before.
“Yes.” I’m taken back slightly.
“Did they hit you?” His eyes search mine, hands hard against the side of my arms.
I rub my shoulder. “Just pushed, I think.”
“Stand next to me. We’re closing soon.” He practically picks me up and places me beside him. I don’t miss that I’m slightly closer than before. His chest is puffed out and his breathing has increased considerably. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was… mad.
The lights flick on and people begin to filter out. John’s strong arm swings across me and holds me against the wall as he leans over. “Stay here.”
He leaves me to stand by the door. The bouncers kick the few remaining stragglers out.
“Excuse me, honey; it’s time to go home.” I glance up to a bald bouncer twice my size looking down at me. The buttons of his shirt are strained under his thick frame. I blink in response.
“She’s with me.” John’s voice comes loud and authoritative across the bar. The bouncer beside me looks up and nods in John’s direction. When he turns back toward me, the stranger glares at me strangely before finally walking away. I get the feeling that this happens a lot. I still can’t get over the line, ‘She’s with me.’ It sent a chill down my spine. Something deep inside me aches to hear those words again.
I watch him whisper something into his ear before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. John shoots his friends and even the bartender a goodbye, before we slip out the back door. The night is warm and electric and the stars seem brighter than usual. Otherwise, it could be the alcohol speaking – or maybe the fact that John’s hand has slipped inside of mine.
I somehow feel like it’s more for my support than as a romantic gesture, but it still gives me a shiver, even in the warm June air.
We walk across the patio and down to the lot. His car is situated below a low-hanging tree all the way on the edge of the parking lot. The walk to the car seems to take forever in the warm air, and yet it still ends all too fast. He walks to the driver’s side and I’m not far behind. Our hands have somehow come undone. I slip around the front of the car and as he opens the driver’s door, I’m taking a seat on the hood.
The sound of a door closing makes its way over to me. His eyes are on me, but mine stay on the ground. By the time I glance up again, he’s standing close.
“Are you okay?” His endless blue eyes are at eye level as he hunches over.
Am I okay? I’m more than okay. I’m finally getting what I want. Without warning, I lean forward, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling his lips to mine.
He’s surprised, and it takes him a minute to process what is happening. But when he does, he nestles himself between my legs, pulling my face closer. His tongue caresses mine, deeper and deeper. His hands find their way into my hair, and he tugs on it gently, causing my face to tilt upward. I giggle, biting my bottom lip. My hands slip from his collar down the front of his shirt. He sucks in a breath when they reach the buckle of his pants, but instead I wrap my hands around his hips, pulling him even closer, telling him exactly what I want.
Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes isn’t playing it safe tonight. Tonight is about desire and passion. My image can take a backseat, along with all the home
work. Tonight is about a deep-seated need. My heartbeat pumps in my ears. My hands are unstoppable, breathing barely able to keep up with my tongue. I haven’t felt like this in a while – if ever.
It seems like only a few seconds, but by the time we pull apart, all the cars in the parking lot have disappeared around us. I rub my head, trying to focus the blur. John places his forehead against mine. I glance up, hoping to read those perfect eyes of his, but they are closed. Peppermint fills my nose and his breath warms my cheeks.
“John,” I whisper.
He tenses at the sound of his first name. “Yes.”
“Take me home—Your home.”
He lets out a groan. With one swift motion, he picks me up in his arms and carries me to the passenger side.
The drive is silent. That’s all I seem to recall from it. Occasionally, we’d exchange looks and smile at each other. But my mind starts again, when we enter his apartment. He opens the door, allowing me to enter first. I walk inside. He flicks on lights. It looks different at night. The magic of this place was the window. Now, all it’s filled with is darkness. The awkwardness between us increases. It feels like a third person is in the room. John remains by the door. Turning, I see he’s leaning on the kitchen counter, watching me.
Meeting my eyes, he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I feel the sly smile play across my face. “Is that how it works? You bring girls back here and then ask them if this is okay?”
“Uh.” He looks uncomfortable, leaning on the counter and rubbing the back of his head. “Not really.”
“I mean, I’ve already seen the industrial size condom box – so I hate to tell you but your secret’s already out.”
He takes a step closer, dropping his hand. “I know that’s not you. I’m asking if you’re really okay with this – with me.”
“As I recall, I was the one that kissed you.” He smiles and I continue. “Maybe I should be the one asking you, before I take advantage of your virtue.” I win a smile, a real one – even his eyes light up. “So, what’s it going to be, prude?”
He takes a few steps toward me. “I’m no prude.” The intensity behind his eyes multiplies.
“So I hear.” The sarcasm in my voice is worse when I’m a little inebriated.
“And what is it that you hear?”
I inform him, walking around his couches with my finger on my lips, “I hear that you are a player, Mr. Smith. I also hear that I should stay away, because you will only break my heart.”
“And that doesn’t scare you?”
I look him square in the eye (at least I think I do). “It takes a lot to break me.”
This surprises him. “I see.”
“Unless you’re scared of my brother?”
“Scared of your brother?” he scoffs.
“Well, maybe not physically anymore. He’s far from the quarterback he once was.”
“I did promise not to touch you.”
I come closer. “What if I just touch you?”
That has his full attention. He watches me approach him slowly. My hands find their way to the buttons of his shirt. My eyes never leave his as I free the last button from its eye and let the sides of the shirt fall. From there, my hands slide up the tee shirt underneath. I can feel every curve of his muscles through the thin fabric. They tense slightly under my touch, but he never tells me to stop. Those blue eyes are so intensely watching, as if silently willing me not to stop. My hands finally find their way to his neck and my fingers brush past the edges of his hair.
I have to pop up on tiptoes before my hands stop on the sides of his face, pulling him lower.
Just before he brushes my lips he whispers, “Becca.” I pause millimeters from his lips and glance upward. His eyes are closed.
The sound of my name renews confidence. My lips press to his. He groans as his hands wrap around me. I can’t seem to believe that the hot bouncer I’ve fantasized about for months is actually with me, touching me, kissing me. I push him against the wall, bringing us even closer. His hands explore and I need his touch, crave it. I want them all over me.
He spins me around, pushing us through his bedroom door. I feel his fingers trace their way down my form before wrapping themselves around the hem of my shirt. We pull apart only so I can lift my arms, letting him peel the tight shirt from my body. Somehow, the darn thing becomes tangled around my head, causing us to fumble slightly. His laugh is muted as I wiggle out of the shirt.
We reach for each other again, maybe a little too hard. Our noses bump, sending a slight pain shooting into my head. John pauses, too, rubbing his nose before opening his eyes to me. There’s a millisecond of pause where we share a gaze.
Then his lips are on mine in seconds, his tongue caressing. He spins again, tumbling us onto the bed, pinning me underneath him. His hands are on my face, pulling me deeper, as if that were possible.
Our bodies writhe against each other in anticipation as we tear away the other’s clothes. Before I can catch a breath, it seems, both of us are naked. The room is silent, except for the sound of our mouths searching for each other’s in the dark room, the gasps I can’t control, and the bed creaking underneath our every movement.
His fingers trace their way down my jawline, then slowly lower to my neck, enticing me further. His touch on my skin answers questions I never knew I needed answers to. Now, I crave these answers. Those soft fingertips slip around my shoulders and then the under curve of my breasts before going lower and lower, him following them.
I gasp when I feel his mouth and his tongue exploring every inch of me, causing my fingers to clench at the bed sheets.
He reluctantly pulls his lips away, leaving a few pecks on his way back up to my lips. He opens the top drawer beside his bed and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Oh, it’s industrial condom box time.”
If I didn’t know any better, I would think he just blushed. “We can stop if you want.” His voice is small, soft.
I reach over him, sticking my hand in the dresser. My fingers grasp around one of the wrappers and I pull it out, and then wedge it in-between my teeth, ripping it open. “Who said anything about stopping?”
The moonlight casts a pale glow across his face. His lips are smiling once they reach mine again.
“Becks,” he mumbles against my lips, “You know nothing good can come from this.”
I look up at him on top of me, and my response slips out before I can stop it. “I’m tired of being good.”
He exhales. I pull his lips back to mine. Carefully, he enters me. I pull my lips away and lock my forehead against his. It’s been so long, I almost forgot what it feels like. It takes me a few seconds before I finally find my rhythm again. He takes it slow, waiting for me to catch up. And once I do, we both can’t seem to catch our breath. It becomes a blur of flesh and pleasure. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never felt so… desired or sexy. I’m not self-conscious or worried about those extra pounds I never seem to lose. John makes me feel comfortable, like this is natural. It’s all one fluid movement. A dance, and we both know the steps. Flawless.
He collapses into the bed next to me, our frantic breathing still synchronized in the dark room.
“I understand the need for the industrial box now,” I get out between ragged breaths.
He exhales a laugh. “I wish I could say it was like that all the time.”
John wraps his arm around me, pulling my back closer to him. His head finds its way into the nape of my neck. The smell of him is already turning me on, yet again. But my eyes are so heavy. I’m about to pass into unconsciousness when I hear his soft voice.
“You were right. I had you all wrong.”
“Me, too,” I murmur before sleep finds me.
The light filters through my eyelids, causing me to squeeze them tight before opening them. My curtains are wide open, allowing the morning sun to shine through, lighting up my room brightly. But, what surprises me the most is the blonde hair
splayed all over the pillow beside me. Blonde. My arm is still under her head. The warmth of her back is pressed into my front. A soft snore escapes her lips as she fusses in my arms. In. My. Arms. What scares me the most is the fact that I think I’m okay with this intimacy. More than okay, I’m oddly comfortable. Even the smell of her is like perfume to my nose. The way her chest rises and falls against me makes my heart stop in my chest. What is this girl doing to me?
She groans, turning around against my arm. Her eyes are closed as she faces me. Blonde eyelashes grace her rosy cheeks. Those cheeks. I remember every crease in her face, from the ones she uses to laugh to the ones she used when she was experiencing pleasure. My finger reaches out to trace its way down the soft part of her cheek. Her eyes snap open, baby blue eyes wide as she pauses, looking back at me. Then they begin to scan the background around me, and I continue to watch as her pupils go wide and she sits up.
“Holy crap.” Her fists clench around the blankets, pulling them up, over the curve of her bare breasts. “I…” Her face falls into the blankets. “I didn’t mean to stay. Do you want me to leave?”
I know the words; I’ve said them a million times to quite a few girls. For some reason, this time the words are stuck in my throat. I cough. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Okay.” She rubs her head. “What happened last night?”
“You don’t remember?” I snap. I don’t know what comes over me.
She shyly smiles, glancing away from me, “I mean, I remember most of it, but I don’t really recall how exactly we started talking again… or how we got here… It’s just a little fuzzy.”
“You got pushed into me last night when a fight broke out.” She slips back into the bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulders. Her eyes peer across the pillows at me. I have her full attention. “I picked you up and, well you were in no condition to drive – so I took you back here.”
“That’s all?” She looks suspiciously at me, and her eyebrow quirks up in the cutest little display of calling my bluff any girl has ever done.
Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) Page 9
