Chapter Six
Tennessee
As I stepped out into the cool night once more, I tried to remember how long it had been since I walked into that bar in the first place. Three hours? Four? All I knew was that I had drunk a good amount of whiskey and I was getting just a little fuzzy around the edges. I blinked a couple of times, bringing the world back into focus – and heard the door open behind me once more.
It could have been anyone coming out – someone just finished up with their night after a long evening of drinking and talking and blowing off steam. But somehow, I knew exactly who it was without having to so much as glance over my shoulder.
“Dominic?” I asked quietly, hoping that I was wrong. But of course, I wasn’t.
“Tennessee,” he greeted me, his voice equally soft. And it could have been the cold air out there, but a shiver ran down the length of my spine as I turned, slowly, to face him.
I hadn’t expected to run into him and his little entourage at this bar. After all, it was kind of a dive, sticky around the edges and far from the classy joint I expected people like Julia to frequent. Nonetheless, there he was – finding me across the room and telling me how old he felt and looking at me with a mixture of sadness and his usual cocky flirtatiousness. I knew how he felt. There was something about being around people like that that left me struggling for words, trying to find something that we could relate to each other over, and usually failing dismally. But that didn’t mean I was just going to act as his fall-back because he was feeling old. I left while he was in the bathroom, not caring for any awkward goodbyes.
We didn’t talk about anything that mattered, but it felt like we were dancing around the central point that neither of us wanted to address face-on. The kiss. The memory of it was still fresh in my brain, no matter how hard I tried to scrub myself clean of it, and the more whiskey I drank the further I fell into those dangerous thoughts of well, what harm would one more do now that we’ve started…? Because part of what had been putting me off was the thought that things couldn’t possibly be as good between us as they had once been, but that kiss, that kiss had proved a point that I hadn’t realized I had been debating in my own head.
And now, here we were, standing outside the bar, just the two of us on that street that was oddly devoid of anyone else. I could have just turned and started the walk back to my apartment, put some distance between him and me, but I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to do that so badly that I found my feet pinned to the ground as I slowly swiveled on the spot, face to face with him once more.
“Tennessee…” he murmured, and hearing my name on his lips sent a jolt of desire through my system. I swallowed and closed my eyes. I should just go. I should just get out of there. But the booze and his presence and the fact that he’d chosen to spend the night with me over Julia…
I met his gaze slowly, just like I had in the mirror back in that dressing room. There was a heat behind his eyes, something fiery and promising, and I knew that I didn’t have it in me to stop whatever was about to happen. I didn’t want to stop it. I needed it. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, the two of us just as young, dumb, and in love as we had ever been, fleeing a bar after a night on the town with our friends so we could go home and fuck and lie in bed and talk until the sun rose. I missed those days so badly sometimes it felt like a physical ache in my chest, but right then, right there, I could pretend for a moment that they had never gone away. And I would take that chance while I still could.
He moved first – at least, I think he did. All I knew for sure was that we collided outside that bar, our hands reaching for each other and our mouths already hungry to taste what we had spent so long denying. He tasted exactly like he had back in the dressing room, but more so, as if he’d been concentrated down to the perfect amount of him. Our tongues met and his hand slid down to cup my ass, and I arched my back to press my body against him. I had no idea where this was going but I knew for damn certain that I didn’t want it to stop.
“Here,” he panted into my ear urgently, pulling me down a dark side alley that ran down the length of the bar we’d just left. He pressed me up against the wall and I wrapped my arms around his neck, moaning softly against his lips and losing myself to the sweet, intoxicating scent of him. I wasn’t sure what had me drunker, the scotch or the feel of his hands traveling all over my body, as though he was hurriedly committing every inch to memory while he still had the chance. I grabbed his head, holding him in place, determined to never let him go if I could get away with it. I didn’t care that we were down the back of some grubby dark alley in the middle of the city – for that moment, then and there, nothing mattered but how good his body felt against mine and how desperate I was for more.
I could feel him growing hard through his pants, and I lifted my leg and hooked it around him to pull him in closer, so I could grind up against his cock and find some relief of my own. I knew if we got caught like this, there would be trouble – but that was half the fun of it. We had both gotten into a profession that required us to put our lives on the line day in and day out, and a little public heavy petting wasn’t going to put us off now.
His hand slid from my ass to the front of my pants, pulling deftly at the buttons and slipping his hand beneath the denim. I gasped and grabbed hold of him, clinging to him for support. I dug my nails into his back, distantly aware of the sounds still coming from inside the bar. Only a few feet away, there were dozens of people enjoying their night out with a few drinks, and here I was, trying to cry out with pleasure as he cupped my pussy through my panties.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you on set for the first time,” he murmured in my ear, and I groaned and lifted my lips and tried to find the words to demand that he take this further. But they were gone; my entire vocabulary had dropped straight out of my head as he slowly pulled my panties aside and pressed his fingers lightly against my clit. I let out a small cry of pleasure and he kissed me once more to keep me quiet. I loved the way he kissed me – slow and unhurried despite what he was doing between my legs, like he wanted to savor me as best he could. I ran my fingernails through his hair and down his neck, scratching down his back, forcing all the frustration and pleasure and desire into a long, hard claw along his skin. His fingers dipped downward, into my slit, and I realized that I was already soaking. How long had my body been anticipating this? Longer than my brain had? He slipped his index finger all the way into me in one smooth motion, and any other thoughts seemed to drop straight out of the back of my head. I didn’t think he could be better than before, but he was even more deft, his movements even more confident. He brushed his lips along my jaw and caught my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently, and my head spun with need for him.
“I want to make you come,” he breathed in my ear, and I flattened my hand against the wall above me for support. He was a man now, a real man – far from the playful boy I’d spent all those heady summer days with back when we were training together. The way he touched me, the half-growl in his voice, the confidence in every motion he made… this was so different than anything I remembered, but so, so good. Better. Better than anything or anyone I’d ever been with before. Or maybe that was just the whiskey talking.
He shifted his hand, tilting it so that he could stroke my clit with his thumb as he pushed two fingers into my pussy and pulled them so they were in a come-hither motion directly against my g-spot. I gritted my teeth. This was torture. I wanted to scream out in pleasure, let everyone in the bar next to us hear just how close I was to coming, but I knew I had to keep my mouth shut if we didn’t want to end up in a big heap of trouble. At that point, any logical thought had all but vanished from my head, and it was only his hot breath against my neck that was keeping me tethered to the real world right then. All I could focus on was the rhythmic pace of his fingers, the swell of his chest against mine as he panted harshly against me, the strength of his other hand on my lower back keeping me standing despite my buckling legs. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could.
“Fuck,” I gasped, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. I gritted my teeth, knowing how close I was, grinding into his hand hungrily, over and over again -
And then it hit me. I was glad he had his arms around me, because if he hadn’t, I would have fallen to the ground right in the middle of that sketchy back-alley. My pussy clenched around his fingers, my clit pulsing hard, and a flash of tingles passed over my scalp and ran down my back as the orgasm swept through me. He turned his head to kiss me once more, covering the moans and groans of pleasure that shuddered through me. Our tongues met once more, mine weaker and with less intent that before – and suddenly, what we’d just done began to sink in.
We were standing in a back alley, his hand down my pants, his mouth on mine – the one man that I’d promised myself I would never do this with. And now that the heat of the moment had lifted, I realized what I was doing. I didn’t want this. I did, but I didn’t. I shouldn’t. I pulled away from him, turning away to do up my pants, and his brow immediately furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, running his hand over his jaw distractedly.
“I should go,” I muttered, not lifting my gaze to meet him, because I knew that if I did I would give in and beg him to take me back to his place and make love to me until we had to go back to set the next day.
“And leave me in the lurch?” he protested playfully, but I could hear the discontent beneath his tone.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” I snapped, pissed at myself more than I was pissed at him.
“But it did.” He reached out for me but I pulled my hand away before he could get a grip and turned to walk away from him, back out of the alley.
“You can’t keep hiding from this, Tennessee,” he called after me, but I ignored him. Even though I knew he was right. And I stepped out on to the street, back into the real world, leaving behind the man who I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from.