Chapter 19
Brian
" H ere we go." Light cheers rang around the table as a tray of tequila shots, lemon wedges, and a salt shaker was placed on the middle of our table.
I grimaced at the sight. I hadn't done tequila shots since my college roommate's bachelor party, only to be reminded the following morning exactly why I hated the stuff.
"I ain't fucking touching that."
"Aww, c'mon man." James picked up a shot glass and downed it before immediately coughing. He quickly swiped at a lemon wedge to suck, screwing his face up again at the taste. Yeah, no thanks.
I tipped my Guinness toward him. "Think I'll stick to this, thanks."
"Fine, old man," he wheezed.
I laughed and shook my head at his antics. If he thought I'd bow to peer pressure over some weak name-calling, he was sadly mistaken.
I was having a good night, though. I always enjoyed coming to The Homestead. Sometimes I bumped into Sofia and Simon and often joined them for a few drinks. Since Simon's cousin owned the place, he usually had his drinks or meal tab taken care of. That was always a bonus.
Simon was a cool dude—funny, generous, if not a little arrogant. It was also clear how in love and overprotective he was of Sofia. And since I used to sleep with his woman, he never fully warmed up to me. There were times I had to purposely ignore his glower whenever Sofia and I talked—as if he was waiting for me to say, "Hey, Sofia, remember how much fun we had in bed?"
And whenever I leaned in for a hug, his arm would tighten on her shoulder, so I was left hugging her one arm. Admittedly, I also enjoyed provoking him. He was just so easy to rile up. One smile at his precious Sofia had his hackles rising.
I knew first hand what the poor sap was going through, though, so I really should stop torturing him. The first time I visited New Haven, Hannah introduced me to her former high school boyfriend. He was nice enough, and I tolerated him as her friend, but I would still grit my teeth every time he smiled at her.
And whenever I squeezed the body of my beer glass, I would imagine squeezing Logan's –
Fuck!
I scrubbed a hand down my face.
So, yes, I could understand why Simon was so unreasonable when it came to his fiance. I was familiar with that heavy feeling of territorial jealousy that sat like a cloak over your shoulders. Unfortunately, it was an emotion that had been rearing its head lately. I didn't like it.
I jerked out of my thoughts when an arm landed around my shoulders. A familiar, strong perfume tickled my nose, and I knew instantly who it belonged to. When I turned, I was immediately engulfed by skin; my nose almost buried in ample cleavage.
"Brian!"
"Uh, hey." My voice was muffled against Lissa's chest as I fought to steady her.
She stumbled further into me, and my arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, holding her in place.
Still leaning against me, she flashed a sultry smile around the table, fluttering her fingers. "Hi, boys," she greeted.
Choruses of "Hey, Lissa, join us" went around the table. Most of them were present the night we met her.
Her blue eyes found mine, seeking my acceptance. She was more than welcome, if only so she would stop leaning so heavily on me.
"Sit next to me," I offered. I felt bad about how I'd left things with her, and a part of me looked forward to reacquainting myself with her. We did have a good time, especially after her shift ended, but I'd be lying if I said I’d thought about her since.
Everyone shuffled down until the seat next to me was vacated. Lissa slid into place, her dress riding high on her creamy thighs. Her knees brushed mine before staying. "You disappeared on me the other night." She pouted up at me, her hand caressing my shoulder.
I averted my eyes. "Ah, yeah, sorry. I had an early start the next day."
"You haven't called me," she pushed.
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Been busy."
I hated thinking about that night. It had started out with rousing banter and fun before slowly disappearing into brooding irritation. I went from drinking my chest ache away and flirting with Lissa, to searing rage and jealousy whenever Logan opened his mouth.
After Lissa's shift ended, I had invited her to join our table, determined to replace the myriad of explicit images Logan's words invoked with new memories of a buxom, blonde bartender.
Harry had given up his seat to her, and I’d yanked it closer. I needed another woman's skin and scent to replace the sensory craving that wouldn't abate.
We flirted throughout the night. I stroked her hand while she murmured dirty things in my ear, promises of what was to come later that night. I had my arm around her shoulder, caressing her bare skin while she rubbed my thigh in a smooth up-and-down motion—her hand moving closer to my dormant cock each time. I didn't let it deter me. Just because that bubble of desire refused to rise in that moment, didn't mean I wouldn't enjoy the act once I had her naked.
However, as the night wore on and I sank more beers, I realized that the likelihood I would fuck Lissa that night was slim to none.
And it wasn't because I was afraid of having whiskey dick. I just...couldn't.
Logan, the fucker, had pushed his dinner plans back since he was "having too much fun with us." The more he drank, the more pretentious he became. It also didn't help that I was directly across from him, so whenever I lifted my eyes, his pompous face was all I saw. And no matter how hard I tried to tune him out, his voice seemed to rise above us, determined to interject his opinion on any nonsensical topic. Or maybe my ear was sensitive in case he brought up the reason for my surly mood.
Despite my best attempts, images of Logan and Maria plagued me throughout the night. I envisioned her face flushed with arousal, her hands and mouth seeking, her back bowed in ecstasy...and then my eyes would fall on Logan, and the cycle of envy would start up again. How could she sleep with this douche? He was smarmy and braggy, and I'd bet my left nut he was selfish in bed. This was who she was clingy with? And he rejected her intent for a relationship?
Just like you did.
Lissa's hand stroking my thigh no longer distracted me. Even her whispered suggestion for a blow job in the back office failed to tempt me. My head had been all over the place. So, when Lissa was busy chatting with a colleague at the bar, I took the cowardly option and snuck out. I didn't care if I ever saw the pretty bartender again. I just needed to leave.
I knew my anger stemmed from jealousy, and perhaps misplaced anger and confusion. Maria wanted a serious relationship, so how long did she hang onto Logan, waiting for him to commit? Did he lead her on? Was he truthful that she was clingy? Did it even matter anymore?
I needed Maria out of my head, but fucking Lissa was not the way. I wasn't that much of an asshole.
Now, though? A couple of weeks had passed, and I was back in control. I never thought of Maria. Much. And Logan no longer had me seeing red.
As long as I never saw him again.
I was ready. Not to mention horny. And lucky me, the perfect solution landed on my lap.
I indicated to the tray. "Have a shot."
Lissa flicked me a sultry grin, her hand grazing my shoulder again. "Thank you." She wagged her finger at me. "Don't go disappearing on me again."
I returned her grin before grabbing a salt shaker and dabbing a little on the back of my thumb. I lifted it toward her lips. Her eyes darkened in desire. "Not a chance."
I meant it this time.
Lissa's tongue flicked out to slowly lick the salt off the back of my hand. She took her time with it, too, making sure she scooped up all remnants with a slow, seductive swirl. I felt a small flame of desire light my stomach. It wasn't the raging inferno I was expecting, but I couldn't deny that I was looking forward to what else she could do with that tongue.
Keeping her eyes on mine, Lissa picked up a shot and downed it in one smooth gulp. No sputtering or coughing for her. As she sucked on the lemon wedge, her eyes watered, and I wondered if they would do the same, choking on my dick with her dark strands twisted in my hands.
Fuck. Blonde . Blonde strands.
As the night wore on, the atmosphere at The Homestead grew rowdier and busier. A live band set up and started playing cover songs of CCR . Out-of-towners squeezed into available booths and took turns twirling on the dance floor. Locals joined tables of folks they knew, including ours. I enjoyed the conversation around me, meeting new faces, and people-watching.
There was a brief moment in the night when I swore I caught sight of Maria. But just as I sat up, disengaging Lissa's wandering hands, the vision of her disappeared through the crowd.
My foul mood briefly returned as I cursed my knee-jerk reaction. So what if it had been her? So what if she saw me laughing away with another woman, allowing her to put her hands intimately on me? Would she be jealous? Regretful? Or would she not give a damn?
I shook the stupid notion out of my head. It didn't matter. It wasn't her. I'd never seen her in The Homestead before, so there was no reason she'd be here tonight. I was seeing things.
"Wanna get out of here?"
Lissa's mouth on my ear sent a shiver down my neck. I wanted to believe it was from a visceral arousal in anticipation of what would come. Lissa had become bolder with her affection throughout the night. She was half sitting on my lap with my arm keeping her centered. Since the table was crowded with people squashed together, it didn't feel too intimate. However, there was nothing innocent about what she was doing under the table. "Save it for later," I would murmur to her in a promising tone whenever her hands wandered too high up.
A brush against my crotch had me grasping Lissa's fingers. She looked up with a hooded gaze, licking her lips slowly.
There was no reason to stay. Half the table had gone home, and I was about an hour and a half past my social tolerance.
"Back to yours, yeah?" I didn't think I could wrangle a motel room this late.
Nodding eagerly, she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up. She lifted on her toes and brushed her mouth against mine. A waft of alcohol greeted my lips, and I pulled back. "C'mon, let's get outta here."
I called a cab, and Lissa directed the driver to her apartment above a mechanic's shop. As I climbed out and held a hand out to Lissa, my stomach started to roil with some foreign emotion. Maybe I was coming down with something. Or perhaps I was drunker than I thought.
My legs felt like lead as Lissa pulled me through her front door. Something foreboding was niggling at the back of my neck. It started as soon as we exited The Homestead and only worsened.
Lissa's mouth landed on mine, and I pushed that irritating feeling out of my mind. Her lips moved with rough urgency, and I enthusiastically returned her kiss. I gripped her waist and shuffled forward into her apartment.
I pulled back when I heard her front door slam. Breathing harshly, she stroked my chest before swaying to a small table by her couch. The room lit with a warm glow from her lounge lamp. My focus stayed on Lissa as she shoved her dress down, revealing a minuscule bra and panties.
"Come here." I was eager to get the night started.
She sauntered toward me; her movements practiced and deliberate as she played with the edges of her bra. I snagged her wrist and pulled her closer, determined to get to the portion of the night I came for.
She placed hot kisses against my jaw as her hand smoothed down my chest. She stroked my flat stomach before moving further down until she landed on the front of my jeans, cupping me. Her hands stilled, and she pulled back with a puzzled expression.
I quickly cupped the back of her neck and kissed her again, closing my eyes as my tongue stroked hers until my dick gave a little sign of life. Lissa pulled back and dropped to her knees. Her hands went to my belt buckle as she stared up at me, licking her wet, swollen lips.
"I know what will get you there," she purred, her eyes determined.
I gave her a hollow smile as she started to unbuckle my belt. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of her actions, hoping it'll wake my whiskey dick up.
The metal of my belt gave way before her hands worked on my jeans. I opened my eyes and glanced around the sparse room. I took in the lamp, TV, TV stand, and picture of a sunset hanging above the mantel. The mantelpiece held a few figurines, centered around a couple of framed photos. The photo frames had words underneath; one said " Family" and the other read "Best Frie -
I pulled away abruptly. Lissa grunted as she fell forward onto her hands.
"Shit, sorry," I absently said, but I was already striding to her photo frames.
Who the hell was that?
"What is it?" Lissa huffed as she shifted around the floor to watch me.
I buttoned my jeans, leaving my belt hanging. With a hand that wasn't quite steady, I picked up the white frame with the words " Best Friends Forever" written on the bottom in block letters.
Two teen girls in cheerleader outfits stood posing on a football field. The blonde was kissing the cheek of her dark-haired friend as the latter smiled widely at the camera.
A smile I knew a mile away. Or two feet. A smile that hadn't changed in the interim years.
"Brian, what the fuck?"
I turned around, no longer caring how I looked. "What's this?"
Lissa placed her hands on her hips as her gaze narrowed on the frame in my hand. Her mouth twisted. "A photo."
I shoved the photo at her again, feeling like a crazed man. "Maria. You know Maria."
"What, you fucking her? Typical." She gave a derisive sigh as she rolled her eyes.
" Is she your friend?" It sure didn't sound like a friendship, but why else would Lissa have a frame with Maria's picture—and with those words on it—displayed front and center in her lounge?
Lissa rolled her lips in as she considered her answer. The prolonged silence told me everything. The Guinness I’d been drinking all night sat heavy in my throat, threatening to come up.
"We had a slight misunderstanding, but she'll come around. She has no one else anyway," she maliciously tittered.
I placed the photo back on the mantel. "I'm sorry, Lissa, but this was a mistake."
"What?" she screeched. "Why?"
I quickly buckled my belt back up. Why? There were a million reasons, one being the beautiful woman frozen in time in Lissa's lounge room. Another was realizing that I’d been kidding myself.
"What the fuck, Brian? Don't tell me you're fucking Maria, too?" she scoffed. "She won't mind. It's not the first guy we've both fucked."
Ignoring that comment, I handed her dress back, which she promptly scrunched up and threw aside with a scowl.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Lissa. I hope you two can sort things out."
That wasn't true. Lissa didn't seem like the kind of friend a person wanted to retain. As I gave her half-naked body a sweeping glance, I felt my stomach roll again. I also knew that, selfishly, I didn't want this night to touch Maria.
At least, not until I'd spoken with her first.