by Mj Fields
“Always be honest with me,” I cut her off.
She inhales a deep breath then lets it out as she unscrews the cap from her water. She turns her back to me, walks to the black leather couch, then sits. “I think you’re homesick—”
“No, at the club—”
“Please let me continue.” She looks away from me.
“Okay.” I walk over and sit beside her.
“Without interruption.”
“Just make sure what you say is what you mean.”
She looks back at me, scowling slightly. “I always do.”
I nod. “Good.”
She begins again with, “I think there are a lot of things going on in your life that are wonderful.”
“And this is one of those things.” I motion between us.
She sighs loudly as she leans back against the cushion.
“I won’t interrupt … when I’m sure you’re not negating the obvious.”
“As I was saying, you’re high on life right now, in a beautiful country, doing what you love. It’s amazing. So am I. I’m traveling and seeing things my own parents never have. Chemically, we are …” She pauses when I open my mouth to interrupt. I shut my mouth and sigh. “I was watching a hot guy on a stage, surrounded by hundreds of people, and buzzed. If we were back home, in a bar, or at freaking deer camp, you wouldn’t have noticed me.”
“Always noticed you, Kendall.”
She shakes her head. “You asked me not to lie, yet you—”
“Little cherub, always blushing, but you turned the reddest I ever saw you when I tossed my shirt at you during a party.”
“A party you attended when you thought you were in love with my sister.”
“I told you—”
“Okay, fine, when you were obsessed with Lucas Links.”
“Oh, fuck no.” I shake my head. “That shi—” I stop when she bites her lower lip to hide a smirk.
“We all care about him.”
“Because she wouldn’t have it any other way.”
When she cocks her head to the side and studies my face, I realize she may have gotten the wrong impression. That she may be thinking I am still harboring some feelings for her sister.
“She’s happy. Truly happy.”
“And believe me when I say that I’m truly happy for her. Just hated seeing her get led around by that dick—”
“You need to get over him, Ben Sawyer.”
“Ha. Ha.”
She shakes her head and lets out a long sigh. Then she pulls her legs up under her as she faces me. “You and I literally live in two different worlds. We have two totally different moral compasses. And—”
I shake my head. “That’s not fair.”
“I don’t think any less of you, but let’s both be honest here. Not in a million years would I approach someone at a bar like you did me. And not in my lifetime have I ever fallen for that kind of come-on.”
Shaking my head again, I explain, “You think of sex differently than I do.”
“Which is why I won’t be having it with you,” she states simply.
I’m not liking the way she said with you.
“And why didn’t you with José?”
“Because, like you and me, we’re in two different places in our lives, and neither will be leading in the same direction anytime soon. Also, I wouldn’t ever want to be that intimate with someone who threw away their dreams, their passions when, in a year, maybe more, probably less, it wouldn’t be enough. Then I would have made a mistake that can never be taken back.”
A loud knock on the door interrupts my response to her naïve way of thinking, which is probably lucky for me.
Another knock, and she looks up from her lap. “Are you going to get that?”
I stand up and head toward the door, candle in hand. I then unlock and open it.
“Thought I saw candles.” Marna steps in as I attempt to step back and plants one on me.
Pulling back, I shake my head.
“No?” She laughs. “What? Do you have your monthly?”
“I have—”
“Oh, come on, Ben,” she interrupts me. “We haven’t properly celebrated since you signed your balls away to me and the band.”
“I have company.”
Her eyes immediately find Kendall. For a moment, she looks pissed, but then she shrugs and says, “I’m down if you two are.”
I hear a gasp.
Fuck.
“I’ll go gentle on you, sweetheart,” Marna only half-jokes as she dips a long nail into the candle wax. “Start with some wax play—”
“You need to leave.”
Marna looks shocked but only briefly. “All right then. See you later, Benjamin.”
As quickly as she came in, she leaves.
I shut and lock the door, taking my damn time doing so, because I’m trying to figure out how the fuck to explain all … that to the virgin, Kendall Ross.
Then … the lights come on.
8
Free To Decide
Kendall
And that’s two, I think as I blink, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light. One kiss by moonlight and the other by candlelight.
Seeing him and Tessa kiss many years ago had filled my chest with a dull pain. This one, though … like a knife.
“I should explain that.” He rubs the back of his hand across his lips.
I push myself up off his comfy couch and plaster on a smile. “No need. Like I said—”
“No, like I said, sex is different to you than it is to me. And when you’ve had it, you’ll get it.”
Another stab.
“Sweets …” He walks toward me with obvious regret at his choice of words showing through his eyes. “That’s not—”
“No need to explain, Ben.” I look at my wrist. “And it’s getting late. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“You aren’t even wearing a watch.”
“I was trying to be polite,” I all but hiss as I curse my stupidity while attempting to walk past him.
He places his hands firmly but gently on my shoulders. “She’s the band’s manager. An occasional way to blow off steam when needed.”
I close my eyes. “I’m almost embarrassed for you right now.”
“Really?” He drops his hands from my shoulders.
I give a sharp nod then open my eyes to see a small V forming between his brows, and his arms are crossed over his incredibly sculpted chest. “You could have very well thought you wanted to ‘get to know me ,” I use air quotes with my fingers, “but since moment one, it was sexual. And—”
“Not to be a dick, Kendall, but it wasn’t just me in the club, on the street, or in the cab.” He’s not wrong. “And, and I’m willing to wait with you.”
And there it is. With you.
Now, to bow out gracefully.
“I enjoy kissing.”
“And when you’re ready, you’ll enjoy the hell out of fucking”—he taps his chest—“with me.”
Tossing my head back, I laugh.
“That’s twice now you’ve laughed at me for admitting I want you.”
I sidestep him again, and he moves right along with me.
“I’d like to leave,” I say tightly.
“That’s fine, but …” He runs his hand through his thick, dark brown waves. “Tell me what will make this thing work.”
“Not one thing, so let’s just shake hands, part ways, and try to forget about—”
“No fucking way,” he says as he laughs haughtily.
We have some sort of stare off, and I’m not one to back down.
He sighs exaggeratedly and shakes his head. “Typical Ross.”
I lose it.
“Screw you!”
When he again stops me from leaving, I push him with two hands against his chest. He doesn’t budge. When I pull my hands away, he flexes his chest.
“Oh, real cute.”
“You need to chill out for—”
“I
don’t do chill. I also wouldn’t do anything with a bullying asshole who won’t let me leave.”
“Do you do quiet?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you think I’m gonna let you leave when sirens are going off out there, you’re nuts.”
“You let her leave.”
His face contorts, and he looks away.
“Oh my God, does she live here?”
“No, of course not here.” He points at the ground.
The way he says it is as if he’s trying to hide something.
I place my hands on my hips. “Ben?”
He looks up.
“So, she’s your neighbor, too?”
“You gotta remember all girls aren’t like you, and not every man is like …” He stops and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Oh my God, you’re thinking of Lucas again!”
When his eyes pop open, I see evident anger in them.
“I’m not like him. Never will be. All men should try to be the anti-Lucas.”
“Let me ask you a simple question.”
He crosses his arms tighter, making his pecs pop. “I can handle complicated, as well.”
“How many women have you had sex with?”
I watch as his jaw flexes, the muscles in it tightening.
“More than five?”
He looks down.
“Ten?”
He glares at me.
“Fifteen?”
“Like I said, you and I see sex differently.”
“It’s an intimate act that should be—”
“It’s a physical activity that results in one hell of a high.” He pauses, possibly waiting for me to have what he may think is a moment of clarity. Things are pretty clear in my head. “I’ll get your things.”
I look down now as he storms past me, grabs my phone, and then hands it to me.
“I see.”
He stops moving toward the door and spins around, looking at me before nearly barking, “You see what?”
“I—”
“Never mind. Let me tell you what I see.” He steps closer, too close. “I see a girl, who I’ve treated with nothing but respect and honesty, look down on me for doing so. I see a girl who clearly wants me but has taken a vow of celibacy that I have respected.” He smacks himself in the chest. “And let me be honest with you, Kendall, as I have been for two damn evenings now; I see a girl in a woman’s body, acting the part because she’s too damn afraid to live her life because she’s bared witness to other’s heartaches. Heads-up, you keep traveling the world, you’re going to see even more heartache, and then what? You gonna hole up in a room in fear of how everyone else is gonna hurt you?”
I have always had a pretty even temper, but right now, I’m feeling anything but.
“So, Kendall Ross, I see a girl who’s going to live her life standing outside of the proverbial window, witnessing instead of living as she judges the hell out of everyone around her.”
And that’s it.
Pushing past him, I grab the door handle and open it. As much as I want to run down the stairs, I don’t, because I won’t let him see how much he just hurt me, angered me, did something no person has ever done to me before.
When I get to the bottom, I realize I don’t have my purse.
I spin around and bump into him.
He doesn’t say a word; he simply drapes my bag over my head as he walks past me then proceeds to take my hand and drag me behind him.
“Let go of me, you, you—”
“I’m going to get you back to your hotel then stop wasting my damn time,” he snaps.
I’m one-third livid, one-third relieved, and one-third heartbroken … in that order.
Trying to keep up with his long strides, I notice a helmet in his other hand as he leads me through the alley between his building and the next toward the riverside. Then he drops my hand and opens a garage door.
“I can get a cab.”
“Kendall …” He shakes his head as he pulls the helmet over mine while I stand there looking at him. His brows are drawn in, and his lips are pursed as he straps the helmet under my chin. “Stay put.”
Where the hell else am I going to go with a helmet on my head? I want to scream at him.
I see a light, and then hear the sound of an engine starting.
Straddling the black and chrome bike, Ben walks it out of the garage.
Over the engine, he gives instructions. “Watch your leg on the muffler; it will burn you. Hold on as tight as you can. When we turn, lean with me, not against me.”
I stand there, looking at the motorcycle. The word Indiana displayed on the tank can be easily seen, with a smaller word that I can’t see due to the dark.
“You’re hell-bent on getting back, get on.”
Careful not to touch my leg to the muffler, I swing the other over the black leather seat and do as instructed.
“Find the pegs,” he shouts.
“Your helmet,” I yell over the engine’s purr.
When he hits the gas, I wrap my arms around him tighter as he yells back to me, “You’re wearing it.”
He pulls onto the walking path by the riverside then hits the gas again harder.
I close my eyes and hold on tightly as he crosses a bridge I know is for pedestrians because of how narrow it is, as if closing my eyes takes away his disregard for the law or me being right here with him.
Riding the motorcycle is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced—the vibration, the rumble, the roar. I’m not in control at all, and the feeling is … exhilarating. The gasoline fumes mixed with Ben’s signature scent and the smell of the fallen rain is intoxicating.
Feeling the bike turn, I open my eyes and see lights, masses of people, broken glass, and a kind of chaos I didn’t feel in his flat. I tighten my legs around his hips and hold on a little tighter.
When we come to a stop, he looks back as if to ask if I’m okay. I answer with a slight nod, and then he takes off again.
I’m not sure how we ended up on the outskirts of the city, but I’m not upset by the detour. The heat of the motor beneath me and the crisp wind dance together, causing a calm to the earlier chaos.
Holding onto him, I feel his hard torso beneath my hands and can’t help moving one hand up to his chest. Against my palm, I feel his heartbeat, steady and hard.
As he takes a turn, I close my eyes again, leaning with him and not against him, and it just feels right. But it’s not. Not now, anyway. Maybe in five years, maybe never.
When he pulls up in front of the hotel and kills the engine, I step off without thinking and curse inwardly when I feel the heat against my leg. Tears immediately spring in my eyes as I fight to undo the chin strap.
When I feel his hands pushing mine aside, I blink the tears away as he unbuckles it for me.
Embarrassed, I turn my back as soon as the helmet is lifted off me and thank him for the ride from over my shoulder as I hurry into the hotel before I lose it in front of him.
I hear my name being called as I hurry toward the elevator banks and look back.
“Sorry, Dana. I’m tired. Chat tomorrow?”
“Lass, are you okay?”
I don’t answer as I step inside the elevator and hit the button to close the door.
9
Ode To Family
Ben
Standing in the lobby entrance, I watch as the elevator doors close and she covers her face.
“You’re such a dick,” I scold myself.
“You’re the American lyricist.”
I look left and see the girl from the bar the other night. “And you’re the tour guide.”
“That I am.”
I nod and take a step toward the elevator. A small hand blocks my way.
“The lass said she was tired.”
“Just want to make sure she’s okay.”
She crosses her arms in front of her and begins tapping her foot. “Not tonight, you won’t.”
&n
bsp; I’m having a standoff with a tiny little Irish woman, and I already know how that will end. She doesn’t deserve my mood. So, I nod then turn to walk away.
“By morning, she should be well-rested. First stop, Christ Church Cathedral.”
I look back at her and nod again. “Thank you.”
Walking into my flat, I realize I didn’t even lock the damn door. Kicking it shut behind me, I sigh.
“Did I ruin your night?”
Looking at the couch, I see Marna wearing absolutely nothing.
“Let me make it up to you.”
“Marna …” I shake my head. “This thing with us has been long done.”
She laughs. “Two weeks is long done?”
I walk over and grab her clothes off the coffee table, setting them on the couch. “Just business from here on out.”
“How’s that going to work for a man like you?” She sits up. “A man who likes his cock sucked and to fuck at least once a day?”
“Gonna have to work out just fine.”
“But it didn’t tonight, now did it?” She reaches for me, and I step back. “Please tell me you aren’t seriously going to be dragged around by some Plain Jane who you’re going to have to actually work to get in bed.”
“Marna,” I warn.
“Oh please, she nearly passed out when I mentioned wax play. What do you think she’s going to do when you release all that need on her?”
“Not really any of your business.” I sound like a dick, not that she and I have something other than sex, but she’s still a woman. “You and I both knew this wasn’t going anywhere.”
Sliding her shirt over her head, she says, “Neither wants a relationship. What we did have in common was a focus on the band.”
“Still the same focus.” I hand her the skirt.
“Two nights with some American and you’re—”
“Not sure how you even know she’s American, but you need to leave it alone.”
“My job is to manage the band”—she stands and pulls her skirt up—“not just business but making sure none of you fuck up on a personal level.”
“I’m not part of the band; I don’t need your help on a personal level. And Marna, I’m serious. Stay away from her.”
