Chapter 9
Britain
Even though I agreed to come tonight, I was still harboring some reluctance when I got in the car. But somehow Liam knew exactly what to do to soothe my anxiety. When he put his hand on my leg, and kept it there, a feeling of rightness pulsed through me and all my anxiety was gone. I decided then that I was going to try my hardest to enjoy myself in the moment. If happiness is truly a choice, I was going to try my hardest to be so. Try and relish what was in front of me. I know there’s a chance this could be a once in a lifetime encounter and I’ll never see him this way again.
I don’t know what I expected when he asked to get dinner. Whatever it was, though, it was definitely not this. We’ve been sitting at this little mountain town bar for an hour now, watching the regulars dance, drinking beer, laughing, and it’s all been oddly perfect. I haven’t been on a first date in like 17 years, but if I had to choose a date to ease back into it all, this would be it. Sweats and beer, an amazing sandwich, and excellent people watching.
I have to remember this isn’t a date though. While Liam has touched me unnecessarily numerous times tonight, and even though I enjoy the feel of his hands on me, I don’t think he means anything by it. I think that’s just his nature. Just his way of expressing a comfortable familiarity.
Sandy, who Liam tells me is the ringleader of the regulars and owns the coffee/gift shop, just finished a line dancing lesson to “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” She’s making her way over to Liam and me now, and I’m hoping like hell she doesn’t try to rope us into participating.
“Sugar, this is the most fun I’ve had on a Tuesday night in at least a decade! You come by the shop tomorrow. Your morning coffee’s on me, babe,” she says, her voice raspy and well-worn, comforting.
“Oh, that was all you! I enjoyed watching the line dancing. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen anything like it, and you were great.”
“Oh don’t play coy, I know you picked out every one of those songs. You got taste, baby.” My cheeks blush over the oddly nice comment. “Now don’t forget to come get your coffee, okay?” She gives my leg a firm pat, shoots a wink at Liam, and struts back to her booth for a tall glass of water.
“Well Bambi, looks like you’ve made an impression. I’ve lived in Spearhead for nine years, and she’s never given me a free coffee before,” Liam says.
“Me neither,” Rick seconds, then turns his attention to me. “Come back and play DJ anytime, got it?” I nod without sound. I still get uncomfortable accepting compliments or attention sometimes.
“Well, my playlist isn’t over yet. We’ll see if you still feel the same once it’s done.” I know the next couple of songs are a good bit different from the line dancing hit list that's fueled the night so far. I think I need something a bit stronger than beer to sit here and listen to them.
“Rick, could I get a shot of Patrón, please?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He turns to Liam in question, and he nods his head yes. The Britain of an hour ago was feeling a lot bolder than the Britain of right now.
Rick sets down our shots in front of us and Liam turns to me while gesturing to the shot and asks, “Is this your attempt at trying to get me to dance?”
I laugh. “No, I swear. Umm, the last couple songs that I chose were all of Georgia’s favorites.” I pause, “I thought, it was a nice thing to do when I chose all the songs that her and I listened to growing up, but now, I’m actually feeling a bit sad about it.” I shrug my shoulders and just keep going, “I know that probably sounds weird, maybe lame. I mean, they’re just songs, right? But these last ones, they’re the ones she would play on repeat. All. The. Time.” I lift the shot glass up to cheers and say, “To liquid courage,” while he says “To Georgia,” at the same time as me. We lock eyes and take our shots.
“You know, you remind me a lot of her,” Liam says to me, softly. “The two of you look nothing alike.” Obviously, my mom was a tall, tan, brunette knockout, and I’m pale, and light, and a little soft around the edges. “But there’s something about you, and her, the both of you. It’s a lightness in your demeanor, your mannerisms, even your gait is the same.”
I know he means this as a compliment, and most people who knew my mother would say the same. But knowing my mother how I did, being told I’m like her doesn’t hit the way it's intended. I don’t want to let him in on that so I just nod my head in thanks and agreement with a slight smile on my face.
“You weren’t at her funeral,” he says to me. His tone is gentle, and I know he’s not accusing me or judging me.
“I couldn’t.”
“You mean, you wouldn’t.” It’s not a question.
“Fine, I wouldn’t. I wasn’t ready to see everyone back then.”
“I get it,” he says, and reaches his hand out to grasp mine, giving it a squeeze then running his thumb over the top.
The first of the songs starts playing, and I flinch a little bit. It’s weird, when you haven’t heard a song for so long, yet it’s so ingrained in you that you still know every word. “The Chair” by George Strait is floating through the air now, bringing down the overall mood and noise level in the bar. I notice several couples slip on to the dance floor for a slow dance.
Before I realize it, Liam has slid his fingers between mine and he’s pulling me up and guiding me over to the dance floor. Oh no, no, no, no.
“Liam, I really can’t dance,” I say in a low voice, trying to put the brakes on this trainwreck.
“Can’t or won’t?” he asks. But I know, and he knows, he’s not really asking, so I follow him the couple of paces to the dance floor. Taking my hand, he cups his large fingers over mine and pulls me into him tightly. He brings his other hand to the small of my back and applies pressure to keep me in place with him.
Over the top of my head, he says to me, “Nothing crazy, Bambi. Just nice and easy. Just be here with me, sway with me.” And so I do. I let him guide me in a slow dance. The first slow dance of my entire life. After a moment, I notice he’s humming to the song, and then he starts gently singing select lyrics. Whispering them into my ear, like he’s singing them to me.
“Well, that makes two of us, glad you came.”
“Yeah, I like this song too, it reminds me of you and me, baby, do you think there’s a chance…”
“Oh, I like you, too, and to tell you the truth, that wasn’t my chair after all.”
The song comes to an end and I pull my head back from his chest and look up into his eyes and I know they mirror what he’s seeing in mine: Desire. I didn’t know a dance could make you feel like that, could be so sensual. Without needing confirmation, I know I’m wet for him. I know he’s feeling the same, the evidence in the hard length pressing against my stomach. I instinctively go to pull away, but he won’t let me.
He leans over and whispers, “Probably not the best idea to walk away from me right now.” He motions with his chin to the tent in his pants, “My date made me wear sweats, remember?”
I swallow when I realize I’m literally salivating over this man, and say, “Okay,” quietly.
“How many more songs, Bambi?” He’s still whispering in my ear, overwhelming me with a heat that forms in my pelvis.
“Two. Two more.” My voice has turned slightly hoarse. “Does He Love You” by Reba McEntire and Linda Davis starts playing.
“Then I guess I’ll be taking these last two dances,” and he pulls me in close, again, for the last two songs.
We’re almost back to his house, and I’m nervous. Will he just say goodnight and that’s it? I realize that’s not really what I want when I feel disappointed at the thought, but I know that’s what I should prepare for. This, tonight, was just a shared moment in time. A nice one, at that, but that’s probably all.
I’m here for six weeks and if I don’t play this right, it’s going to feel like the longest six weeks of my life. I have to mentally prepare that he will give me a handshake and say goodnight, and then we never cross paths again. Or if we do, it’s a gentle wave of a hand, and a nod of a head. That’s it, that’s what I should expect.
He hasn’t put his hand on my leg in the car like he did earlier, and he hasn’t touched me since we finished the last dance. I know he felt some sort of sexual attraction for me based on his erection, but maybe it was a fluke? Or maybe it wasn’t, but he won’t act on it because he knows it would never amount to anything. That seems to be his M.O. since he’s made it to 50 without marrying. Fuck, or maybe all he’s after is sex, and he’ll use me, then dump me once he’s satisfied. I must be a glutton for punishment because the thought of him using me for sex is getting me hot and I rub my thighs together from the thought alone.
I mean, men are allowed to have casual sexual flings all the time. They could be married and it’s still more socially acceptable for a man to carry on an affair than it is for a woman. It’s such bullshit. I like sex, and I haven’t had sex in a really long time. Why can’t I just have something casual with Liam? Maybe that’s a perfect solution seeing as I have to leave at the start of June anyway. There wouldn’t be feelings hurt on either side if there’s a clear expectation that it could never be anything more than sex, and never past June.
Even though I think I’ve just convinced myself into having an affair with Liam, I don’t think I’m bold enough to initiate. I’m going to wait and see what happens.
We pull back up to the house and he parks right beside my car again. We barely talked on the drive home, so I think this is all leading to a friendly farewell. I unbuckle myself and move to open my door when he says to me,“Don’t you dare open that door, Bambi. I’ll get it for you.”
My cheeks flush and I nod my head, then wait for him to exit the car and come around to my side. He opens the door, but immediately moves into the space I would need to step out. I hesitate, not sure what to expect when he grabs my waist and pulls me right into his body. He moves us one step to the side so my back is against the backseat door now. I’m just staring at him, a little bit in shock when he dips his mouth to mine.
His first kiss is gentle and light, but so warm. I’m embarrassed to admit it feels like fireworks going off in my belly, that I’m now hot and slick from a peck. Just as soon as I think that might be it, the peck turns into more. There’s pressure behind his kiss now and his hands mirror the same increasing intensity. He’s pressing me more and more into the side of the car, one hand remaining gripped at my waist, the second coming up behind my neck and the base of my skull to prevent my head from hitting the hard window. I move my hands to his back, noticing how firm and tight he feels. I’m rubbing him up and down, loving the way he feels beneath my palms.
He tilts my head back as he slips his tongue into my mouth, and I moan at the intrusion. My moan increases his movements and speed, and I return what he’s giving. I move my tongue to feel his, matching his rhythm. I pull the edge of his bottom lip in and suck it before giving it a bite and releasing him. He makes a sound very close to a grunt and pushes his pelvis into mine.
Wow. He’s clearly got a thick cock if I can feel all that through two pairs of sweats. I release another moan at the feel of him. He feels fucking incredible. His mouth is still moving with mine, his hands stroking me firmly, his cock gently moving against me as we create a sway all our own.
He pulls his mouth from mine with a small bite on the corner of my mouth. He brings his head next to mine and whispers in my ear, “Britain…” I’m panting and soaked waiting for the rest of his thoughts. After a pause, he finally says, “I can’t do this tonight, but I want you to know how much I want you.” He grinds into me with his last words, but my body instantly feels burned. He can’t do this.
I don’t want him to know how disappointed that just made me, so I just nod and say, “Okay.” I’m a little breathless and feeling a little bit embarrassed that I would have gladly fucked him if he had showed even the slightest bit of interest in going there.
I drop my hands from his back and I know my body isn’t pliant anymore, the embarrassment caused me to tense up. He pulls back and looks at me and I know he can read me like a book. I may be trying my hardest to look strong and unaffected by him pulling back, but I’m sure my eyes and body are giving away that I’m hurt. Why the hell am I hurt?
“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asks.
“I’m not sure yet.” Of course I don’t have plans.
“Okay. Hand me your phone.” And I do. I hand it right over, unlocking it first. He quickly enters his phone number and hits the call button. His phone starts vibrating and he ends the call, handing back my phone. I take it and slip it back in my pocket, not really sure where to go from here or what to say.
He leans in and gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek and says, “I had fun tonight, Bambi. Thanks for joining me.”
“Yes, um, thank you. You saved me from a gas station dinner.” My attempt at keeping things light and humorous are undermined by the sound of my meek voice. I can’t stand it a minute longer, being here with him, so I move out from underneath him and make my way to the stairs. I’m all the way at the top and opening the door before I look down and see he’s still standing there. So I give him a weak smile and a nod, slipping into the apartment and out of sight.
I make my way to the bedroom, shedding my sweatshirt and sweatpants. I immediately pull out my phone and create a contact for his number, then shoot off a text.
Britain
Craziest day. Even crazier ending. I think I just went on a date?
I set my phone down on the nightstand and finish undressing to go get ready for bed, but I don’t even make it to the ensuite when my phone vibrates.
Jess
GTFO. Did they buy you food? Did they make you smile? Did they kiss you?
1. Why are you awake? 2. Yes, Yes, and YES.
Then yesssss girl, it was a date.
teething = sleep strike. FML
Wanna call me with all the deets?
lol, as long as you’re sure it won’t bug Tommy that I’m calling and keeping you guys up.
please, you know Tommy could sleep through an atomic bomb, CALL NOW.
k, let me go pee and then I will.
I haven’t even set down my phone when it vibrates again.
Liam
Just a heads up, while I’m enjoying the view thoroughly, I feel like I should let you know that I can see right into your room.
Shit. I’m naked. And the windows are open. Fuck my life.
I don’t bother with a response, I just put the phone down on the nightstand, walk over to the windows, give a sweet wave and smile to the man in the window opposite, and then I let the Roman shades drop.