Every Little Dream(9)

Her words come out breathless like she’s nervous. Or turned on. I don’t wait, but let her pull me back to my room. She enters Jimmy’s.

“Wrong one.”

She giggles then opens the door to the bathroom. “Oops.”

As soon as the door shuts to my room, she reaches up and touches her lips to mine like she has to quick get it out of the way. Then she pulls back after a light kiss. It feels nice. Her fingers touch the back of my neck. I’m used to girls throwing themselves at me, getting the deed done. They know how to get right to it, but this girl dances around the edges, teasing.

“Hey,” I say between kisses. “We don’t have to move so fast.” I laugh at myself because that’s what I usually want, just get it over with, in and out, and then say goodbye before a girl gets too comfortable and starts leaving her makeup in the bathroom. But this girl in front of me brings out other desires too just by her sweet smile and soft voice.

She pulls me toward the bed, a seductive but nervous look in her eyes. With one leap, her legs are around my waist and we fall back on the bed. She laughs as our lips break apart in the falling and landing. Then she rolls over and straddles me, her mini skirt hiking up around her waist.

“Are you sure you want this?” I can’t believe I’m even asking. A cute girl’s on top of me and I’m doubting her.

“What do you think?” She slides her hand down my arm and traces each finger. The nerves under my skin pulse, spreading like fire through the rest of me. The slow seduction is the most erotic thing I’ve experienced. Slowly, she guides my hand to her mouth where she pulls each finger into her mouth and sucks on it. As she lets go of my hand she drags it down across her chest. I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my breathing.

I lean up and pull her to me. Her skin flushes beneath my touch and she trembles. I’m more than ready. More turned on than I have been in ages. I’d better enjoy it because this is a one-night deal. I find the pulse on her neck with my mouth, playing with her skin. Her breathing is erratic, her heart beating against mine. I kiss her neck, heading lower, breathing in her scent of vanilla and honey. Memories flash.

In one movement, I push her off me. It can’t be. “Who are you?” I grab the shirt she’s taken off and shove it at her. I try not to look at her exposed chest but it’s hard not to. The swell of flesh above her lace bra, the creamy skin. I groan, wondering what the hell my problem is tonight.

Her cheeks turn pink. “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice catches, the hurt in her voice plain. “Am I not bad enough for you?”

I shake my head. “What’re you talking about?” I press my nose to her skin and breathe in just to make sure. I flash back to the accident and the angel with the blonde hair I almost killed. Then I yank the hat from her head. Long blonde waves tumble down. I lay back in my bed, emitting a groan. Frustration pulls at me.

She snuggles up next to me, her hair fanned across my chest, tickling my neck. Before I know it, her hand is on my stomach, playing with the skin at the edge of my jeans.

“Why?” I manage to get out, while pulling her hand away. “Why are you with me? Is this some kind of game?”

“No…” she whispers. “But I can’t really tell you.”

Her words trigger a reaction. Any arousal or attraction is doused like someone threw a bucket of cold water at me. I slide off the bed. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

She can’t tell me? There’s only one reason then. My father is involved. She’s spying on me to report back to him. He’ll have evidence against me for our meeting tomorrow morning. I can’t see any other reason.

I storm out of my room toward the front door. It slams against the wall as I throw it open with a little too much force. I point to the outside darkness. “Get out!”

She walks past with her head down, her cheeks flaming.

“That’s right. You should be embarrassed you got caught!”

Outside, she turns, her eyes wide and pleading, her lips trembling. “How did you know?”

“You were pretty obvious. Tell him he’ll have to try a little harder next time.”

She scrunches up her face. “What?”

I won’t listen to her. With a firm grip on her arm, I drag her down the stairs to the bike. “Time for naughty little girls to go home.”





My father’s law offices stand before me, all gleaming doors and intimidating corners and angles. He knows what he’s doing. I feel powerless, stripped of any bravado, just standing outside the doors. That’s what he wants. As a big-time defense lawyer, when customers walk through the entrance they need to feel my father can get the job done.