Crushed (Collided Book 2)

by Portia Moore

  But I can’t leave it alone. I wonder if we like the same flavors of ice cream, or if he hates Brussels sprouts too, even if they’re fried in bacon grease or whatever the hell people claim makes them edible. What small things of mine are his, and which ones are mine alone? I know what comes from my mother—I know she also loves lavender but hates royal purple, that the smell of vanilla makes her gag, but there’s never been a floral candle she didn’t want to take home. These are things we share. But there’s so many holes, so many things about myself I want to piece together. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. So much.

  My phone rings, and I slam my laptop shut, as if I’ve been caught and that whoever it is knows what I’m doing. I pick up the phone without bothering to even look and see who it is. “Hello?”

  “Hi Madison, how are you?” It’s Greg. He and I are getting on a little better since the dinner from hell but it’s still strange for him to call me.. Greg, like my lovely sister, is a big fan of the well-crafted email. It’s one of the many very boring traits they have in common.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Honestly, I’m actually glad for the distraction, even if it is Greg.

  “So…I wanted to tell you before anyone else…I’m planning to propose to Melissa next weekend. And I know it would really mean a lot to her if you were there…that is to say…I’d really like it if you were there too. Do you think you could manage that?”

  I gasp. I’m not Greg’s biggest fan, but he’s perfect for my sister and I know she loves him almost as much as she loves cooking. “Oh my god!” I exclaim. “Congratulations!” I squeal and I hear a nervous laugh escape his throat.

  “She hasn’t said yes yet,” he reminds me. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.

  “She’s going to say yes. She loves the hell out of you,” I tell him sincerely.

  “I hope so,” he says through a nervous sigh, and it’s cute that he’s nervous.

  “Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’m going to book a flight right now.”

  “I figured I could pay for the flight, I know things are tight for you right now…”

  Melissa and her big mouth, of course.

  Probably complaining about how her flaky sister jumps from one career to another without a penny to her name, but I swallow my annoyance. “Thanks, but I’ve got it, I promise. Put all that into the proposal,” I tell him, grasping to the little piece of dignity I have, even though Greg probably makes twelve times more than me and wouldn’t miss the money at all.

  Alyssa waltzes in and I give her a big smile as me and Greg finalize the party details about how he’s going to surprise Melissa. When I hang up I’m in a fantastic mood.

  Melissa is getting married! Maybe I’ll get to be the cool aunt in a few years.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but who’s getting hitched?” she asks from the fridge, popping open a soda.

  “My sister!” I say, sounding gleeful.

  “That’s so exciting!”

  “She’s going to shit herself! He’s surprising her so it looks like I’ll be heading back to the hometown.”

  “Chicago right?” she asks wearing a wide smile of her own.

  “Yup. It will be good to get home. I miss it a little,” I tell her with a shrug before grabbing an apple and taking a bite.

  “I’ve always wanted to see Chicago,” she gushes.

  “It’s great. Better than New York, honestly, although no one ever believes me.”

  “Can I come?”

  I blink at her.

  “To Chicago? For my sister’s party?” I’m trying not to come off like a bitch but we barely know each other and it’s sort of a private thing…well not completely private since Greg says there will be at least fifty people attending, but it will be intimate.

  “Yeah, it would be fun! I can pay for my ticket, I have a voucher from a flight my parents had to cancel a while back. And I don’t mean the dinner, that’d be weird. I just feel like with me not being in school and before I start working, this is a good time to travel.”

  I can’t really think of any reason to tell her no, and she’s giving me those big puppy dog eyes she gave Alex. “Okay,” I relent.

  “Yay!” she squeals before almost knocking me down with a hug.

  “We’re going to have so much fun. It’s going to be great!” she exclaims.

  I sure as hell hope it is. Traveling with friends can be rough and now I’ve volunteered to travel with Alex’s sister, who I barely know anything about other than she’s a sweet, spoiled brat.

  I’m biting my nails in bed wondering how I get myself into these situations while Alex watches some basketball game. “You’re cool that I’m not able to go to the engagement party with you?” he asks after yelling at a player who did something to piss him off.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I won’t be gone long and there’s no way you should be pulling out of any events. Things are going so well for you and it’d be stupid for you to,” I scold him, and he gives me one of his breathtaking smiles that makes me feel both innocent and lustful at the same time.

  “Then what’s the matter?” he asks, taking my hand and pulling me towards him. A commercial’s on now and I have his full attention.

  “Nothing, why?” I ask innocently.

  “I dunno, since Tiffany’s brunch you’ve been sort of…”

  “Sort of…what?” I ask, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “On edge. I don’t know, I thought it was your period,” he jokes and I swat him playfully.

  “I’m fine,” I promise him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “You’re happy right?” he asks me, his playful grin softening to show his concern. I think again what I did to deserve this man. I crawl over and straddle myself across his lap.

  “Yes, I’m more than happy. Happier than I’ve ever been,” I tell him, giving him a longer kiss on the lips…and before long the game is no longer his main focus.

  It’s been so hot and the air makes me want to stay in the water but I force myself out of the shower, and wrap a towel around my hair. One of the windows is open, letting in the breeze, and I can faintly hear the shouts and laughter from the pool several floors below us.

  It’s like paradise. Our room is huge and spacious; the bed done in white linen, the curtains white gauze, the carpet so soft and plush my toes sink into it as I walk towards the bed. My hair smells like coconut shampoo and my skin like margarita from the lime sugar scrub I used in the shower. Every inch of me is buffed and polished. I hear Jackson’s sigh as I toss the towel onto the floor, my wet hair falling around my face as I straddle him on the bed, and his hands run down my smooth sides. His hardness rises up immediately between my legs, pressing itself against my warm, damp flesh as I rock down onto him, bending to take his face in my hands and kiss him.

  He tastes like strawberries, like the daquiris we had by the pool earlier, and I lick along the edge of his lower lip as he reaches between us, his thumb sliding over my clit as he angles himself to slide inside of me.

  He fills me, thick and hard, and I hardly move at first, taking in the sweet sensation of him inside of my body, the sheer erotic pleasure of it, of us joined at mouth and thighs, his hands steadying me as I start to shift my hips atop him, finding that sweet spot that feels so good when he rubs against it.

  I never knew sex could feel like this, that it could be a sort of erotic dance between two people, giving and taking, an ebb and flow of pleasure, an electric current flowing between us. He plays me like a musical instrument every time we’re together, fingers strumming over my collarbone, my nipples, my waist, my hips, my clit, finding erogenous zones I never knew existed. I feel my orgasm building as I rock atop him, feel it spreading through every inch of my body until I’m consumed by it.

  He flips me over onto my back, a satisfied smile on his face as he begins to thrust into me. It’s his turn now. He’s the one in charge, and that thrills me too. The intense desire, the lust in every l
ine of his body, every flex of muscle as he thrusts powerfully into me, driving me higher and higher again as he approaches his own climax. He pins my wrists down, kisses me hard as he plunges deeper, and there’s no sound but our breath and our moans, a symphony of pleasure as I hear him cry out, my name spilling from his lips as he spills into me, and I clench around him with another shattering orgasm…

  I sit bolt upright in bed, sweating, every inch of me trembling. My heart is galloping like a racehorse and I can’t breathe. For a minute I think I’m dying. I almost think I’m back in that hotel room in Miami, that it’s Jackson sleeping peacefully next to me while the humid Florida air seeps into the room. But when I glance beside me it’s Alex. The duvet is blue and not white, the wall behind us isn’t drywall but exposed brick.. What the hell, why did that just happen? How could I dream about screwing Alex’s dad while I’m sleeping right next to Alex? I’m embarrassed and ashamed, flushed and hot, and I hate myself for even subconsciously allowing it to happen. I don’t want to dream about any man but Alex, and especially not Jackson.

  This is a clusterfuck!

  I can’t go back to sleep so I get up and start to clean the kitchen. It’s not messy but scrubbing the surfaces with disinfectant gives me something to do and by the time morning comes, the house smells like a hospital ward. I went way overboard on the bleach.

  “How long have you been up cleaning?” Alyssa asks, sleep still in her eyes as she groggily makes her way to the refrigerator.

  “Not long,” I lie as I finish up the last dish in our sink.

  “Do you want to go shopping today? I want to grab some cute stuff to wear when we leave,” she asks, life coming back to her after she gulps down a Monster.

  “I can’t, I have to help Alex tonight at the wedding.”

  It’s a big night for him.

  He’s been hired to work as the main bartender for a very expensive wedding at one of the fanciest hotels in the city, and since they’re short-staffed for the night, he asked me to help. I’m shit at making drinks, but I can barback, and since my own business has been slowing down, I agreed. My graphic design clients haven’t been needing as much work and I’ll get a percentage of the tips for the night. And with Mel’s surprise engagement party I need everything extra I can get, especially now that there’s going to be wedding expenses. I already have those for Parker but at least the busier I keep the less I have to think about the gigantic elephant farm that parades through my thoughts.

  I don’t want to keep secrets from Alex and I want more than anything to be able to tell him and for him to move past it, but a bigger part of me wants him to never ever know. It’s starting to drive me crazy.

  I think that’s what that stupid sex dream was about.

  My subconscious wants the truth out so badly it’s making me relive what happened. I don’t see how people cheat or keep gigantic secrets from their spouses and walk around like everything is okay. If Alex wasn’t so busy he’d really know something was wrong with me.

  My business might be slowing down, but Alex has never been busier. He’s still pulling shifts with the catering company, but his private gigs are outpacing that and I’ve never been happier for a man in my life. He constantly brags that my social media help is the reason for everything going so well for him and how much he owes me for helping him. The way things are going he’ll have his own bar sooner than he expected if this pace keeps up. And how he did it all without his rich daddy, though all the while he has a girlfriend who actually did his rich daddy.

  It’s safe to say my mood is at an all-time low by the time we reach the wedding. It’s raining, and I hurry into the hotel with Alex, both of us crammed under one umbrella. There’s plenty of set-up to do, unpacking bottles of liquor and getting the drink menus set out and making sure ice and mixers are ready to go. I’ve got plenty of experience with clients like this, but not bartending, and I’m nervous that I’ll screw something up, throw Alex off, slow him down.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, catching a glimpse of my face and dropping a kiss on my forehead. “You’ve got this, we’ve got this. It’s going to be okay,” he promises and gives my hand a squeeze before planting his signature kiss on it and I tell myself again that maybe it will be.

  I don’t feel like I’m doing okay or that I have this. This big lavish event makes me think of the night I met Jackson, which is vomit-inducing now. Most of the guests are drunk, rude, or both, and there’s way too many of them. Alex didn’t bring enough staff with him and since Casey scored a gig, which we’re ecstatic about, she couldn’t be here and she’s one of Alex’s best people. I’ve had to help make drinks and I’ve made three of them wrong, dropped a bucket of ice on the floor, and brought out the wrong glasses. I know it’s because I’m preoccupied and anxious, and I also know I have to get it together. I can’t mess up Alex’s reputation on top of everything else, especially considering how much progress he’s made, and how hard he’s worked.

  I take five minutes in the back, taking several deep breaths.

  Get it together! I scold myself to stop acting like a guilty freak. After letting out several deep breaths I walk out and stop dead in my tracks as I see a gorgeous woman leaning over the bar, clearly flirting with Alex.

  She’s tall with long, thick blonde hair that is perfectly curled, a perfect figure, and perky breasts that are clearly showing in the low cut neckline of her long, sparkly blue dress. She could be a supermodel—hell, she might be. And she’s twirling one lock of that hair around her finger, looking at Alex as if she wants to eat him from the mouth down. And he’s laughing at whatever the hell she’s saying, drying off a glass and grinning at her.

  Hell no!

  I storm out behind the bar, my jaw clenched. “Do you need any help?” I ask Alex tightly, and he looks up, surprised at my tone.

  “No, it’s slowed down. We just need more martini glasses,” he says easily until he takes in my expression and sees that I’m pissed. He glances sideways at the woman, who is now stirring an olive in her glass, running her finger along the edge of it seductively, and then back at me. Understanding finally slapping him upside the head.

  “Thank you though, I appreciate it.”

  “You look like you’re pretty busy to me.” I know I’m being ridiculous even as I say it, but my tone is harsh and angry, and Alex gives a smile that dazzles his blonde friend but grates the last of my nerves.

  “Madison, can you just bring me the glasses?” he asks quietly, his gaze flicking between the two of us. The woman looks slightly intrigued instead of annoyed like I want her to be.

  “Madison this is Emma Mars, she created Drinks and Things,” he says and at the moment I could give a damn if she ran the freaking country the way I saw her eyeing him.

  “Yes, it’s a tiny little thing but we just hit 70,000 followers on Instagram so I’ve been chatting it up with Alex here about featuring him on our page,” she explains, more than self-satisfied.

  Oh shit.

  “Oooh, that’s great!” I say trying to completely turn around my tone.

  “Thanks! It’s just something I do in my spare time in between shoots, but people have taken a liking to it.” She gives a little giggle that’s more cute than annoying. So she is a model who happens to have a successful marketing page.

  Some things just aren’t fair.

  “I’ll let you guys talk.” I turn on my heel and stomp back into the kitchen area, and when I hear heavy footfalls behind me I know it’s Alex following. I pretend not to notice him, pretend to not care until he touches my elbow and I whirl around, prepared to fight.

  “Madison, what the hell is wrong?” His brow is furrowed as he looks down on me with those eyes that look like his fucking dad’s!

  This is so fucked up!

  “Nothing,” I huff.

  “It didn’t seem like nothing,” he says, taking my elbow which I snatch away from him.

  “You could’ve introduced me,” I retort back defensively. He sighs and run
s a hand over his face.

  “I would have but you came over looking like you were two seconds away from slapping her. I’d rather her have met my beautiful, funny, and supportive girlfriend than my pissed to shit one who looks like she was ready to get in the ring with her,” he explains, irritated, and I fold my arms. Did I really come off like that?

  I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath.

  “Tell me what’s going on with you,” he insists, his tone now more pleading than upset. I can do it, I can tell him right here and end the misery I’m in. But would it end or just be the beginning of more to come?

  “This is an important night for me. Why are you acting like this?”

  “I don’t know it didn’t seem like business miss supermodel was eye-fucking you. It’s embarrassing! For both of us, really.”

  “What are you talking about?” He asks his concerned tone turning into annoyance, and I’ve rightfully earned it. I know I’m being ridiculous.

  “Madison, you know me and you know this business. Women are going to flirt, it comes with the territory…girls flirt with me all of the time at work. You know that! I don’t want anyone but you.” Frustration is seeping through his grin.

  This is all so much—the stress of the secret about Jackson, everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, and even with me acting like a lunatic, his expression still holds one of quiet concern as he looks down at me, as if he can’t quite understand what’s happening. And it’s in this moment I realize I can’t lose him.

  I just can’t. I should tell him the truth about Jackson, and come clean about everything, but I can’t stand the idea of him being gone, of never waking up to the sight of the sheets he’s rumpled and the scent of him still on the pillow, of never curling up in his arms again to go to sleep. For him to never look at me like I’m the only woman he cares about.

  “Madison, what’s wrong!” He’s genuinely alarmed now, and he steps closer to me, reaching out and enfolding me in his arms. “Is it Alyssa? Is it too much having someone else living with us? Is it your dad? Is it work? Things will pick up with the business again soon …”