Wild Thing

7. Seven

Seven

DYLAN

B rax was waiting for me in the lobby.

I had to check my tongue wasn't dragging on the floor behind me as I walked towards him.

He looked fucking delicious.

Decked in black jeans and a black hoodie with the word ‘hardcore’ emblazoned in white gothic font across the front, and black converse sneakers, he looked every inch the bad boy. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a heavy metal band, or as a member of an outlaw motorcycle club.

He had a lot of new ink. His hands and neck were tattooed, for one. A wolf's head marked the middle of his throat, jaws wide open poised to rip the throat out of anyone who came near. Roses adorned both sides of his neck, with geometric shapes filling in any blank skin.

I wondered about the rest of his body.

His lethal body.

I remembered his chest being tattooed with a hawk, wings spread across his pecks. I wondered if he had more, maybe on his stomach, or another deadly creature deep-etched into his back.

My body tensed as he caught me staring. He smiled as he drank me in from the feet up. He swallowed hard when he saw my short skirt. He definitely remembered. There was a raging firestorm in his eyes by the time I sauntered over to him.

“Hi, old friend.”

“Hi.”

We gave each other a quick hug, like old friends would. Neither of us were brave enough to linger longer.

“You hungry?”

Unashamedly, I slid my gaze over his hot body once more before answering. “Ravenous.”

***

Arriving at the restaurant, the rain was relentless, plummeting down and causing gutters to overflow. Thankfully, the car had been able to pull up directly at the entrance so we didn’t have to walk far in the pouring rain.

Pablo’s was a hole in the wall, dimly lit, moody and hella sexy. It was one of those restaurants where diners can sit at the bar, and that’s where we were seated since our table wasn’t quite ready. Sitting next to each other, so close that our thighs grazed, we were immediately handed the wine list.

Brax asked if I wanted to select the wine, but I declined, replying that this dinner was his idea, so the decisions were all on him.

He ordered an Italian bottle of Pinot Noir, and I was quietly impressed with the selection. I wondered where he had acquired his wine knowledge.

“So," Brax started with a slight grin. "You look good tonight.” My coat was on, but it was open, showing off the tight outfit underneath. I had one leg crossed over the other, the position hitching my skirt up high, baring my mid thigh.

I looked up at him through my eyelashes. I could play the part of a needy, doe-eyed woman for one second. “Only good?”

A mischievous glint sparkled in those midnight eyes. “You know you look sexy.”

He was right. I did know that.

The corners of Brax’s lips twitched upwards. His smile lingered, almost secretive. As if he knew something I didn’t.

The waiter returned with the bottle, asking if we wanted to taste it first. We both shook our heads indicating for him to pour the glasses.

Soft light illuminated Brax’s face and that vicious looking throat tattoo. I fantasized about what his reaction would be if I leaned over and dragged my tongue down his throat.

Proposing a toast, he pulled me out of my fantasy.

“To what?”

He paused, pondering. “To reconnecting with an old friend.”

He raised his glass, but I didn't lift mine to his. “We were never friends, Brax.”

“Okay then… To making up for lost time.”

I tilted my head to the side. I decided I could toast to that. We clinked glasses, each taking a sip as we looked at each other.

His ocean eyes were my second favorite part of him. I wanted to drown in them, over and over again.

My stomach had been in knots since we had arrived. Twisting and tightening as I tried to remain cool, despite feeling like a teenager on a first date. There were a million questions I wanted to ask him, yet I couldn’t verbalize one.

Thank god for the liquid courage the Pinot provided.

We made small talk, mostly about our day, before a waiter arrived and escorted us to our table in the very back corner. It didn’t get more romantic, or private, than that.

I wondered if Brax chose this restaurant for that very reason. So no prying eyes could see us together.

Pulling out my chair, Brax offered to take my coat, which I shrugged off and passed to him. As he draped it over the back of my chair, I noticed he stole a quick glance at my chest. My nipples were hard and even harder to ignore.

“Jesus, Dyl, you’ll poke someone’s eyes out with those things.”

Mission accomplished.

***

Once seated, we quickly found our rhythm of conversation, mainly centered around our careers. I was dying to know how Brax ended up as the sole owner of one of the biggest luxury builders in Grey’s Forest.

“So how did you end up owning Patch and Sons?”

“After you left me––”

“Stop. I didn’t leave you.”

“Yes, you did. You left for London.”

“I wanted you to come with me. You chose not to.”

We held each other’s stare, neither one of us willing to back down and take responsibility for the heartbreak that crushed us both.

“Semantics," he said, brushing me off. "Anyway, I threw myself into work. I don’t think I had a day off in two years. I was project managing big jobs and making good connections. Three years ago, I had the opportunity to buy into the company, so that’s what I did. I made smart, future-proof decisions. Rest is history.”

“I’m really happy for you," I said giving him a wide grin. "So why are you in the city? Are you expanding?”

Brax shook his head. “One of my long term clients is located here. There is a new project they want me on.”

Brax went on to describe the journey from apprentice to owner, and I had to admit, I was inspired. He had always been an extremely dedicated worker and the way he wove his story had me entranced. He spoke with so much passion. Not many people had a genuine love for what they did for a living, but Brax was the exception. I wanted to keep the conversation on him, desperate to learn as much as I could about his life.

But he wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily.

“So how did you land a job in White Point when you were on the other side of the world?”

“Pure talent.”

“Obviously.”

We exchanged sly smiles at each other. The flirting between us came so easily.

“I got lucky," I admitted, finally. "Marie, the CEO of Gellar and Summers, headhunted me from the firm I was working at in London. She has some sort of arrangement with the directors over there. I sent her my portfolio, had several interviews online and a job offer followed not long after. I moved to White Point and have been there ever since.”

Something like pride reflected in Brax’s eyes as he said, “I always knew you’d make it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when you want something, you usually stop at nothing to get it.”

I gave him a lopsided smile. “True.”

“Tell me more about your travels.”

I could feel my body hum alive when I began to reminisce about my European adventures. His eyes lit up bright when I told him about all of the breathtaking places I’d seen, how inspired travel had made me and how I felt like I'd truly lived life to the fullest when I was there.

I thought of Zack briefly.

He had never once asked me about my time in Europe. It was almost like he didn't care at all.

“Do you still draw?” Brax asked.

The question caught me by surprise. I was shocked he remembered, but then again, I used to draw all the time. I would sketch scenery, plant life, anything that I felt drawn to really.

“Not as much as I would like to. I mean, I create sketches for client designs, but I haven’t been drawing , drawing,” I replied honestly. My voice dropped lower. “You know, like the ones I used to do for you.”

Brax's eyes gleaned. Almost like his memory was replaying the artwork I'd created for him. I’d leave sketches in his gym backpack, under his windscreen wiper, in his bed.

Sometimes they were drawings of him doing things he loved, like surfing, or sometimes they were of my tits for a laugh.

Often though, it was just the two of us. I’d sketch snapshots of what our future might be like… living in a mountain cabin, or embracing out the front of a beach shack. It was the only time I’d ever allowed myself to think that far ahead.

I wondered if he had kept any of them.

I didn’t ask. The answer might hurt too much.

“Why not?”

“In order to create, you need to be inspired and the honest truth is that it's been a long time since I’ve been inspired… and I’m not nearly drunk enough to go into that Brax.”

In typical Brax form, he wasn't going to let that go.

"Drink up then," he demanded as he topped up my red wine. “Because I want to know why one of the most talented artists I’ve ever met hasn't been drawing. You used to draw all the time. You loved it."

"Yeah, I did."

"So what changed?"

"Everything changed."

The mood shifted as those two words landed. He knew I was referring to our break up. The truth was that everything did change for me when we split. When we were together, I didn't realize how much our relationship inspired me and made me feel alive. I certainly realized it once we had broken up, though.

It was like a light went out inside of me.

I quickly tried to cover up the truth.

“And, you know, life stuff.”

“Life, huh?”

"I guess."

"You guess ?" Brax asked. The raised inflection on the word "guess" indicated that he wasn't buying my bullshit.

I didn’t know how to get into the nitty gritty of why I’d lost my passion for art without bringing up how unhappy I was. If I brought up how lost I had been feeling, I’d have to bring up my relationship with Zack.

And I wasn’t ready to do that.

For once in my life, timing appeared to be on my side, as the waiter delivered a carbonara and pesto gnocchi to our table.

“Parmesan?”

We both nodded and watched in silence as the waiter shaved fresh parmesan cheese onto both our meals.

***

Dinner was delicious and before long, we’d polished off the bottle of Pinot, and ordered another glass each.

It was still pouring rain outside.

“So, we’ve danced around the elephant in the room,” Brax said as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. We’d reached the point where we’d had enough to drink that we could finally ask the questions that we’d been too scared to verbalize.

“Have we?”

I knew what was coming, but made him say it anyway.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Avoiding his eyes, I spun my wine glass around and contemplated lying. For a split second, I fantasized about being single and imagined this was the rekindling of a love lost. But this wasn't some romantic comedy. This was real life; messy and complicated.

I had to be honest. I had to tell Brax about Zack.

The silence was a dead giveaway anyway.

Sighing, I nodded my head in confirmation. I raised my eyes to his and wondered if he’d run far away from me and my uninspired, unhappy and un-single life.

Brax leaned back in his chair, rubbed both hands over his face, and ran them back through his luscious hair. He didn’t say anything for what felt like minutes, before he looked at me with a lazy grin and said, “Damn.”

I gave him a soft smile as my heart raced.

I waited for him to say something. The murmur of other diners and the sound of cutlery was suddenly crisp and loud. A few more moments of silence passed as his steely eyes penetrated mine.

Finally, he asked, “Is it… serious?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It's complicated.”

“How long?”

“A year.”

We sat in more silence. I reached over for the water jug, pouring each of us a glass.

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” I tried to make it sound as casual as I possibly could. It was his turn to look at me and contemplate lying.

Wait, was he in a relationship too?

I knew the answer already. I could see it on his face.

“Yeah.”

With a breathless, soft laugh, it was my turn to look dejected. “The timing, huh?”

Shifting in my chair, I uncrossed and then re-crossed my legs. The awkwardness was killing me.

What in the actual fuck were we doing? What were we both doing here flirting with danger?

I couldn’t help but feel slightly pissed off at Brax, even though I had no right to be.

“God, this is awkward now.”

“Why? It doesn’t have to be, Dyl.”

“Well it is!" I dropped my voice to a hushed whisper and leaned over the table. Finally, we were talking honestly. "It feels like we’re doing something wrong."

“Old friends having dinner is wrong?”

“Cut the shit, Brax. We aren’t ‘old friends’, we didn’t hang out and gossip about people,” I replied sarcastically. “We’re ex-lovers.”

“So?”

“So?!” God, he frustrated me to no end. His smugness was on equal par with his attractiveness, which was highly irritating.

“The Dylan I used to know would go with the flow and didn’t give a shit what others thought.”

“Yeah, well the Dylan you used to know has matured a fair bit since then.”

“Are you telling me that you care what people think now?”

“No, I’m saying I’m mindful of what people think now.”

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, don’t,” I snapped. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You have a girlfriend.”

“And you have a boyfriend.”

The waitress arrived at the perfect time, talking through the dessert menu. Brax and I didn't take our eyes off each other during her entire spiel about the creme br?lée. Finally, she placed the menu on the table and left.

Nervously, I chewed on my bottom lip. I noticed Brax's eyes drop to my mouth. He licked his lips.

“Tell me something real Dylan.”

“Like what?”

“Like what went through your head when you saw me yesterday?”

I paused before I answered. There was zero point in lying. Plus, I was really feeling those few glasses of red. “I felt like my world stood still.”

“Mine felt like it was set on fire.”

“You should go stand outside in the rain.” I grinned, breaking the tension just for a moment.

Brax chuckled quietly. He had always loved my banter.

“Are you happy, Dyl?”

I stilled as I felt his foot gently, slowly graze up my leg from underneath the table. I swallowed hard, from both the question and the touch. “That’s a loaded question.”

“It’s not a hard question though.”

“I-I don’t know…” Avoiding eye contact, I ran my thumb over my fingernails, smoothing out invisible polish. “It’s complicated.”

“Not really. Are you happy or not?”

I felt a flash of anger. It wasn't that simple and he knew it. Nothing was ever black and white. It was time to turn the tables on this motherfucker.

“Well, are you happy?”

“I asked you first.”

“Is anyone ever truly happy?”

“Okay. I’ll take the dodging of the answer as a no.”

I sounded like I was in denial. He read me so easily. I hated it as much as I loved it.

Shaking my head in frustration, I took a sip of wine. “What the fuck is this, Brax? Therapy?”

“Well, you’re not drawing. You’re dodging questions. You don’t seem happy,” Brax stated simply. He wasn’t wrong. “What’s missing from your life, Dylan?”

You. I answered in my head. You.

“I don’t know… something. The spark. That feeling of truly living life.”

The reflection of the candlelight flame danced across his deep sea eyes. “Aren’t you living it?”

Lifting up my wine glass, I considered admitting to Brax that, no I’m not living. I felt out of control, pressured, and fearful that I was falling into the monotony of life with a man that was totally wrong for me.

Before I could stop it, the words came cascading out of me.

“The truth is, I feel like I’m suffocating. In all aspects of my life. Nothing feels… right," I said, oversharing, which I absolutely hated.

I placed the wine glass back onto the table and began twirling it around from the base.

"I feel caged. Like an animal pacing the walls of a pen. Desperate to escape… but can't.”

Brax leaned over the table and put his hand on mine, stopping the wine glass from spinning.

“And what about with him? Are you happy?”

He grazed his foot up my bare leg again. My heart began to thunder in my chest.

I stared at the panther tattoo that covered his left hand. He lightly stroked my fingers, twisting my rings.

Lowering his voice, his words struck me like a viper. “If you tell me you’re happy, I’ll walk away right now.”

Instead, I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’m not happy.”

A beat passed, and he delivered a sledgehammer.

“Me neither.”

Taylor was right.

I was in trouble.

***

Before long, we were the last people in the restaurant. I hadn’t even noticed the place emptying out; my entire attention was focused on Brax. Time didn’t seem to exist.

Noticing the staff telepathically willing us to leave, it was clear neither of us wanted to part. The mood shifted to disappointment as we realized we had to call it a night.

“I’ve ordered a car, it should be out the front,” Brax said.

“This feels like being a kid and having your parents call you inside because it’s getting dark out,” I said, shrugging on my overpriced coat, preparing for the cold, wet weather outside. “You don’t want to leave, but you have no choice.”

Brax nodded in agreement as he passed the waiter his credit card, finalizing the bill.

A white sedan waited in the pouring rain right at the entrance. We climbed into the back, giggling, buzzed from the wine.

“The Dalton please.” Brax instructed the driver.

The sound of rain on the car roof was relaxing. My eyes felt heavy as I leaned my head back onto the headrest and closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of the raindrops.

I felt Brax’s hand on my exposed thigh.

My heartbeat felt supercharged as I opened my eyes to find him looking at me.

His touch burned my skin and darkness swirled in his eyes turning my bones to dust.

Placing my hand on top of his, I slid it slightly higher up my thigh. He grinned at me slowly.

I smiled back, imagining his lips trailing over my body. We were walking a fine line, especially after admitting we were both in committed long-term relationships.

But damn, this was something else.

I angled my body toward Brax. “What are you thinking about?”

Brax mimicked my move, resting his head on his seat. His hand still rested on my thigh, my fingers now interlaced with his.

He closed his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

I continued to stare at him, his handsome face illuminated by the glow of the traffic lights outside.

He was wrong.

I really did want to know.

***

Waiting for the hotel elevators in silence, there was a tension in the air so thick you could slice straight through it with a blade.

A wave of sadness washed over me. This couldn’t go anywhere… could it? Deep down, the thought tugged on me. Engaging in something forbidden sounded sexy.

Exciting.

Very fucking tempting.

We could have one more hot night together, in secret, no one had to know.

But it was wrong.

The elevator arrow lit up. The doors opened, and we stepped inside silently. I leaned against the back of the elevator, while Brax hovered near the touchpad. He swiped his roomkey and pressed level fourteen, then level twenty-two.

I couldn’t help but feel rejected. I had hoped he would only press his floor.

And then what, Dylan? What would you have done?

I wouldn’t have put up much of a fight, if any at all. Did that make me weak? That all it would take would be one touch, one kiss… and I’d be his.

“Dylan? Your stop.”

Every part of me screamed for Brax to grab me, kiss me, carry me to his room and fuck me until sunrise.

I decided to keep my horny thoughts to myself.

“Thanks for dinner Brax,” I told him as I stepped out into the hallway, still a bit tipsy from the wine. “Goodnight.”

Turning on my heel, I began to walk towards my room. I figured I’d leave quickly rather than drag out a long, sad goodbye.

“Hey!” Brax called out loudly.

I spun around. He held the elevator doors open with one hand. “It was good to see you, Wild Thing.”

I smiled sincerely, genuinely feeling the same.

“You too, Brax.”

Something unspoken hung in the air, like we were waiting for one of us to make the first move.

But neither of us did.

Instead, we held each other’s gaze as the elevator doors closed.