Chapter Two
Sadie
“You better slow down there, Sadie.”
Ashton Levine, with his caring eyes—the kind of eyes that put puppy dogs to shame—attempts to commandeer my sixth…maybe seventh shot? Before his grabby hands slide it out of reach, I toss it back. My eyeballs water as it burns down my esophagus like the last five rounds of tequila did.
Wait. Is it five or eight? Shit, maybe Ash is right. I’ve lost count.
“She’s messed up over something,” Amanda says. Mandy is my best friend. She’s also Ashton’s twin sister. The two of them cage me in, forcing me into the middle of the cozy circular booth the three of us are sharing. I’m a little annoyed by the furtive glances they keep throwing toward each other. Worried glances.
Probably because I called from Club Hoppin thirty minutes ago, bawling into the phone while camped out in a dirty stall in the women’s restroom. That’s where Mandy found me.
So much for not crying over losers.
“Ya think?” Ashton arches an incredulous dark brow at his sister. They’re always at each other’s throats, despite the two of them being closer than most friends. Maybe it’s a sibling thing…or a twin thing. I wouldn’t know since I’m an only child.
I slam the empty shot glass onto the wooden table and turn to Mandy, blinking several times until her porcelain complexion and sleek brown hair come into focus. “Be a best friend and get me some fries?”
With a sigh, she squeezes my shoulder. “I’m on it.” As she rises to her feet, she shoots a warning look at Ashton. “Don’t let her out of your sight. She never gets this drunk.”
“Got it covered,” he says, waving her off.
As soon as Mandy is on the way to the bar, her tall, voluptuous figure lost in the crowd of sweaty bodies grinding on each other, I face Ashton and prop one hand on his chest to keep from swaying into him. Damn, he’s built underneath that black T-shirt. Black seems to be his signature color, and it suits him since he could be the definition of dark, dangerous, and handsome.
Especially with those tattoos. His ink flexes with his biceps, and I follow the picturesque mural of a forest in the midst of a full moon traveling down one arm. I’ve seen him without a shirt, and I know his ink continues its tale on the left side of his chest. I run a palm down his ripped abs, envisioning the masterpiece on his skin.
“Do you live in a gym or something?”
“Jesus.” He removes my hand, but instead of letting go, he twines our fingers together. Holding hands is nothing new for us. We’ve done it for years.
“You’re like a different person when you drink, Sawyer.”
Smarting over his chiding tone—and his use of my last name—I give him a drunken glower and try to pull away. His grip tightens.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, searching my face with his light blue eyes.
Hell no, I don’t want to tell him. He has a tendency of getting under my skin with his questions and opinions on how I should live my life. Now that I think about it, I can see why he and Mandy fight a lot because he’s even worse with her.
But one glance at the worry pinching his mouth soothes my ire. Ash has always cared about me, and for some strange reason, tonight his concern sends my heart into a fluttering dance. His fingers, still tangled with mine, cause the strangest, most exciting sensation ever, and a wave of heat breaks out on my skin. I haven’t felt this way since I was fourteen and had the biggest crush on him.
Must be the alcohol screwing with my body’s chemistry.
“Can we not talk?” I don’t want to think about Jake or the betrayal threatening to well in my chest again. Telling Ash what happened is more embarrassment than I can handle right now. I avert my eyes and take in the club, enjoying this floaty feeling from the alcohol. The bass of the music vibrates through me, sending me floating even higher. If not for Ashton’s fingers entwined with my own, I could probably just drift away completely.
Not be aware of anything for a while.
“Uh-uh. Tell me what’s wrong.” He leans closer, and worry pulls at the corners of his mouth. His dark brows narrow over his eyes in two severe lines. “You can always talk to me, you know.”
“I know.”
Several beats of the pounding music come and go before he shifts at my side. “I promise, I’ll keep my asshole tendencies to a minimum,” he coaxes, mischief playing on his lips.
God, he smells amazing. His cologne infuses my senses, and I’ve always loved the way he smells—like pure testosterone mixed with a hint of the woods after it rains. I bet he tastes just as good. Unable to help myself, I lower my gaze to his mouth.
“What if I said I wanted you to kiss me?” The question tumbles off my tongue, completely surprising me. Apparently, I have no filter tonight. For once in my life, I don’t give two fucks about what comes out of my mouth.
His eyes widen before lowering to my lips, and as the whirl of music and people and voices around us blast my ears, neither of us move. Maybe my brain is on slow-mo tonight due to the booze because it takes me a few seconds before I realize he isn’t going to press his lips against mine. I’m not surprised, but it’s still disappointing. He lets go of my hand, and hot flames of humiliation lick my cheeks.
Shit. Letting my hair curtain my face, I begin stacking the shot glasses on the table, my fingers trembling. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m buzzed.”
Ash slides his arm along the back of the booth behind me, turning his body until his knees graze mine. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you,” he says, inching my hair back and tucking it behind my ear.
“What is it, then?”
He slides his fingers under my chin and turns my head toward him. He’s much closer than he was a few seconds ago, making my heart pound too fast and hard. The heat of his touch steals the breath from my lungs.
“You’re Mandy’s best friend.” His teeth latch onto his bottom lip, and he watches me as his fingers brush my jaw in a hypnotic way that ignites searing heat between my thighs. I clench them without thinking.
“She wouldn’t care.” A lie, because I’m pretty sure she’d flip out.
“Okay, you’re my friend.”
“I don’t care, Ash.” Apparently, I’m full of lies tonight. Losing his friendship is a terrifying thought. He and Mandy are all I have.
“I care.”
“Oh.” I’ve got no reply to that. Needing some distance, I draw away by a few inches.
“Sadie.” He shifts again, and the next thing I know, his fingers are threading through my hair. He hovers at my ear, letting out shallow and uneven breaths. “Jesus. Don’t you know how much you matter to me? You have to know.”
I exhale a shaky sigh. “You matter to me too.”
Seconds tick past before he inches back, dark stubble grazing my cheek. His lips part as he meets my eyes, and I hate that I have no idea what’s running through his head as he searches my face, his sharp blue gaze darting between my eyes and mouth.
“Hell, Sawyer. You couldn’t handle me.” And just like that, he pulls away. “You’re too damn sweet.”
My spirit sinks to my toes. I’m the kind of sweet that doesn’t fall to her knees and suck a guy’s dick until he can’t think straight. The kind of sweet that inspires a man to cheat because even though I want to do all sorts of dirty things, I’m too inhibited to know how.
I’m almost twenty-three-fucking-years old—the same as Ash and Mandy, who are light-years ahead of me when it comes to sex. But me? I must be the last virgin from our graduating class. How pathetic is that?
Thanks to numerous shots of tequila, the familiar shackles of inhibition are nowhere to be found. I glance around the packed bar and spot Mandy talking to a guy she’s been chasing for a couple of months. She works here three nights a week as a KJ, keeping Club Hoppin hopping with karaoke during the bar’s slower nights.
But tonight is Friday, and everyone is busy chasing someone, or dancing, or too drunk to notice Ashton and me in the corner booth. Even the barmaid has forgotten us.
Just do it flits through my mind. Before I allow myself the chance to chicken out, I disappear underneath the table and wedge my body between his legs.
His shocked intake of breath spurs me on. “What the fuck are you doing, Sadie?”
“Giving you a taste of how sweet I can be.” I fumble with the button of his jeans too long, giving away my inexperience and offering him plenty of time to push me away.
But he doesn’t.
Licking my lips, I inch down his zipper. God, he’s free balling it. His long length springs free of the confines of his jeans, and I had no idea he was hiding such a big cock behind that denim.
An erect cock. The brain above his waist might be putting on the brakes, but the one in his pants is ready to go. It curves upward, the soft tip practically staring me in the face.
“Sadie,” he says in a strangled tone, and I think I hear him groan as he sinks his fingers into my hair, holding me still. Holding me back. “You’re drunk, and I don’t mess with drunk chicks.”
“I’m not a chick.” I fight his grasp, and he loosens his fingers without much effort on my part. Because he wants my mouth wrapped around his cock. His ragged breathing is evidence enough. He combs my hair back as I tilt forward, and I flash back to what I witnessed earlier through the ajar door of my boyfriend’s—ex-boyfriend’s—office. Blondie hadn’t just used her mouth; she’d fisted the base as she took him between her lips.
Bringing trembling fingers to Ashton’s lap, I curl my hand around the thick root of his shaft and slide my lips over the head.
“Hell,” he groans. “You’re so much more than just a chick.”
My heart is beating out of control as I glide my hand up and down velvet steel. I roll my tongue over the plump head, and his fingers tighten in my hair.
He lets out another groan as I take in another inch. “Goddamn, Sadie.”
My head is swimming, no doubt from the alcohol, but mostly from the fact that I have Ashton’s dick in my mouth. This moment is too surreal. I’m not this brazen girl who does shit like this, especially in public.
But it feels good to be this girl now. Feels damn good to shatter his sanity, steal his breath, and take what I want.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but I must be doing something right. His thigh is rigid under my free hand, and his groans drift to my ears in choked pleas, as if I’m wrenching them from his throat by force.
He tastes good, salty with the perfect hint of sweet. He smells even better. His light, woodsy scent infuses my nostrils as I work his length toward the back of my throat. I grab hold of his knee to keep from falling over as I impale myself on his erection. The tip hits my tonsils, and the instant my gag reflex kicks in, I begin to panic.
Damn it. I’m losing control. Letting fear seize me. This is the point when I shy away, leaving a trail of disappointment, but with Ashton…I don’t want to stop this time. I want to know what it’s like to make a man come undone.
I want to know what it’s like to reach past my limits, and I want to do it with Ashton. I’ve known him for most of my life, and I trust him without question. He won’t judge or become angry at my inexperience or lack of skill. He won’t cop an attitude and act butt hurt if I have to put on the brakes.
His hands guide the tempo of my mouth, the depth of his thrusts, and I gag again. Drawing air through my nose, I pull back the tiniest bit and count the rapid thumps of my heartbeat before sucking him deeper once more. His grasp on my hair tugs at my scalp, taking some of the control away from me. Ensuring I don’t pull away again.
God, he’s shaking, and something about that excites me. Warmth floods the space between my legs.
Is that me moaning?
Holy shit, it is.
I’m losing myself to the task, enjoying it for the first time ever.
Someone’s talking above the music, and Ashton goes still. I’m so lost in him that I don’t realize Mandy is back at first. His voice sounds far away as he says something to her.
“Sadie’s ah…she’s…”
He pulls on my strands one last time before dropping his hands from my head with a shitload of reluctance. I veer back and let his erection slip from my mouth, and horrified at the thought of being caught and having to explain, I wrack my brain for an out. Inspiration strikes, and I fumble with my ear, unhooking an earring as I scoot ass-first out from underneath the table, wiping my lips on my arm as I go. I pray the lighting is dim enough to hide my blazing cheeks.
“I was just…just looking for my earring.” I hold up the tiny hoop in question before pushing it through my lobe again. But I can’t meet her eyes, and I sure as hell can’t bring myself to face Ash.
Shit, I don’t have a choice. I face my friend and meet her eyes with a boldness I don’t feel. They’re the same sea-blue shade as her brother’s.
“Jesus, Sadie. You’re about to fall over.” Holding the requested fries in one hand, Mandy uses the other to guide me back into the booth. She slides in next to me, and the telltale sound of Ashton zipping up his jeans makes me shiver.
The weight of his stare presses on me like a wet blanket. I’m immovable, and way too fucking hot. He’s mere inches from me, radiating heat.
Breathing with jagged desire.
Peeking below lowered lashes, I spy the death grip he has on the edge of the table. Long, heart-pounding seconds pass, rife with arousal and wreckage, before I bring my eyes to his and plummet into the sea of his gaze. I don’t think either of us are breathing. The world falls silent as our secret pings back and forth between us.
“What’s up with you two?” Mandy asks. “Are you guys fighting or something?”
I swivel my attention to her, relieved to find that she doesn’t suspect the truth. Like usual, she assumes we’ve been arguing over something stupid—the way she and Ashton do all the time. In that moment, it doesn’t even cross her mind that I’m seeing Ash in a whole new light for the first time.
My God. I had his cock in my mouth.
Maybe tomorrow, as I bury my hungover head beneath the covers to block out the searing reality of daylight and destructive decisions, maybe then my insane actions will start to penetrate.
But tonight…tonight everything is surreal. Ethereal even. With alcohol still buzzing through my veins, ignoring my mortification is doable. I’m trying to form a response when Ashton beats me to it.
“I cut her off.” He slides an arm along the back of the booth, and his fingers brush my shoulder. A tingle of awareness shoots through my system, from the nape of my neck to the aching core of my sex.
I tell myself it’s from the alcohol.
I’m not breathless and jittery from the heat of Ashton’s mindless caress.
“I think she’s had enough.” Reaching across the table for a fry, he rubs his chest against my arm then brings the golden fry to my lips. “Have you had enough, Sawyer?”
My heart adopts a crazy rhythm as I dip forward and take the offered fry, my lips grazing his warm fingers. As I chew, I meet his eyes again.
There’s a challenge in them. A smug glint to match the smirk taking hold of his lips. He’s enjoying this too much. With a gulp, I swallow the fry. But I’m thinking about swallowing something else. His focus wanders to my lips, and I know what he’s thinking. He knows that I know what he’s thinking.
My mouth. His cock. Unfinished business.
Fear barrels through my bravado. Real fear. Not the kind one experiences when faced with a what-if or an unknown, but the kind of soul-numbing terror that blasts through your blood when you realize how badly you fucked up. When you realize that fuck-up could be the beginning of the end of something too important to lose.
A lifelong friend…gone in the tatters of the status quo.
This is why I snuffed out any feelings beyond friendship when I hit my senior year of high school. Ashton and Amanda are like family, my sanctuary against my own disapproving flesh and blood. I’ve witnessed his inability to commit to one girl for longer than a few weeks, and I can’t stand the thought of being a forgotten notch on his bedpost. Nausea rises, thick in my throat.
A few weeks of blissful insanity with him isn’t worth breaking a lifelong bond.
“I…I think I’m gonna get sick.” I nudge Mandy out of the booth before pushing past her to make a beeline for the restroom, wresting my way through the throng of sweaty, moving bodies on the dance floor. Everyone is oblivious to the turmoil rolling in my belly, so maybe if I hide in the ladies’ room long enough, Ashton will be oblivious too.
I cast one last glance across the club to our table and find his intense blue eyes on me. That is not the look of an oblivious man—that’s the look of a man who has no intention of letting me forget what happened tonight.