Chapter Twelve
Charles
There are so many questions I want to ask her, but now doesn't seem to be the time or the place.
I have to keep reminding myself that I'm here to congratulate my friends on their upcoming child, not interrogate my cook and the woman I've been catching feelings for about her relationship with the man that has been trying to sabotage my life.
Although Alisha doesn't seem to have any qualms as she turns to me. “Tell me how you're part of Club Red.” There's a slight slur to her words, as if the half glass of Long Island iced tea she's already drunk is affecting her.
I take the glass out of her hand with a smile. “Arson owns the club and I'm friends with Arson.”
Her eyes narrow, as if she knows that's not quite the extent of my participation here. “So you're not part of the other activities that go on here?”
I could push back and ask her how she knows about the activities that go on in this club, but I know the place has quite the extensive reputation, so there's no certainty that I’d get an answer beyond her pointing that detail out to me.
“I have been a part of the activities that go on here, yes.” There's no reason to lie to her. If this is something that's going to turn her off from my company, then that's better put out in the open before we get any deeper. Because if I'm being completely honest, I am starting to develop feelings for Alisha. I don't want to start what could wind up being a relationship if she feels the same spark with a lie.
I can tell by the way her expression falls that that’s not the answer she was hoping for. “Laurel and Arson recommended me to you as a chef. You all know one another and everybody at this club are friends.” And she says the words, some kind of realization seems to set in, and she shifts her weight, her expression troubled.
Though she doesn't say anything else, she refuses to meet my gaze, and I sense her becoming more and more agitated; her breathing quickens, the pulse of the base of her throat kicks up, and she seems uncomfortable in her skin.
She reaches out and takes her glass back from my hand and downs the rest of the drink before gripping the glass like a lifeline to her chest, similar to how Laurel is clutching her wine.
“Is everything okay?” I've been asking that question a lot tonight, but it's important to me to know that she's comfortable, and I can tell right now that she's not.
She shakes her head. “Not at all, but it will be, thank you for asking.”
I don't like how her expression has suddenly gone pale and how the hollow at the base of her throat has bottomed out. All of her body language speaks to her stress, and I don't feel good forcing her to stay here when she’s obviously distressed.
“Would you like to leave?”
Her gaze finally meets mine, and I see the surprise there. “I'm not going to make you miss the party because I'm uncomfortable.”
I shake my head. “It's not like that at all; your comfort is important to me, and Arson and Laurel will both understand if we need to leave.” I know my friends. I don't even have to give them a reason - if I say we need to go, they're going to trust that I’m serious.
She winds her arms around herself. “I don't want us to leave because of me. I swear, I'm fine.”
I reach out and drag my index finger knuckle down her forearm. “If you want anyone to believe that you’re fine, you should probably try to relax.”
She smiles, as if sensing I have her back and releases her death grip on herself. I pull her into a hug slowly, giving her plenty of time to refuse and push me away, but she doesn't. “Breathe with me.” A second after I say the words, I inhale a deep breath and feel her mirroring my movement. Holding the air in my lungs for a count of five, I slowly release it, feeling her do the same.
I repeat the deep breath in, hold, slow release pattern several more times, and I feel her begin to relax in my arms. “Do you feel better now?” I ask several moments after our final breath.
I feel her nod.
“Good. Good girl.” I feel her tense up at my words and realize I've just discovered a trigger phrase for her as her body shifts. Her hips tilt into me and she presses her chest closer while drawing in a ragged breath. I can’t be totally certain, but I think somebody might have a praise kink. I tuck that thought away with every intention of taking it out later and using the knowledge to my advantage.
For now, I release her and she takes a step back. “I think I need a soda.” She says the words so softly I nearly miss them. The second they register, I take her elbow and guide her back to the bar.
A few moments later, with a soda in hand, she sips her drink and smiles up at me. “Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” I ask, confused why she’s thanking me - I didn’t do anything.
She gestures vaguely as if that'll answer my question. “For everything, all of this.”
When the party finally draws to a close, I can tell that she's getting tired, and I carefully scoop her up and carry her from the threshold of the club to my car.
I place her in the passenger seat and reach across to pull the seat belt over her lap. As I click the belt into place, I come face to face with her and realize we are only millimeters apart. She's holding her breath, her eyes darting back and forth between mine.
I decide in that moment that I don't want to hold the truth back from her any longer. “I believe I'm starting to develop feelings for you.”
Her eyes widen and she inhales. “Well, that's interesting because I'm reasonably certain that I have started to develop feelings for you.”
That's all the permission and encouragement I need; I lean in and press my lips to hers. She melts as I trace her lower lip with the tip of my tongue before opening up and allowing me in. As our tongues meet, pleasure shoots through my body, creating a whirlwind of sensations. As she kisses me back, leaning into me, my senses ignite as her scent fills every breath and leaves me nearly paralyzed with desire.
My fingers skim the back of her neck before gently holding her, and I feel a shiver sneak down her spine. Excitement pulses through my veins in a wild current that intensifies with every passing second. The world around us may as well cease to exist, because I'm lost in her; her breath, her lips, the taste of her, the way she feels against me...
I need more, I need her . As if she senses my desperation, she tilts her head slightly to the side, the new angle sending a jolt of electricity through me, a tingling sensation that electrifies every nerve ending. Her soft lips feel like they were made for mine, and heat spreads through my body igniting a wildfire of sensations and awakening every inch of me.
She tastes sweet and little bit spicy, like a Long Island iced tea, as well as desire and vulnerability. I give her lower lip a gentle nip and she whimpers into my mouth, a sound I quickly swallow. Exploring every contour of her mouth, I lose myself in her and when we part, I feel alive, invigorated, and ready to take on the world.
She blinks at me, her expression stunned as her eyes hold the weight of unspoken promises and the whisper of a potential for a shared future. This unexpected peek at the heart of her has my chest swelling with a mix of passion, tenderness, and a fierce longing for more.
Cool air brushes against my damp lips, leaving a trail of yearning in its wake. The second we part I crave the taste of her again. The intoxication of her kiss and a hunger remains left behind, a pulsating ache that lingers deep in my core and makes my gut tighten as she stares deep into my eyes.
Neither of us seem to know what to do or say next. So I back off, make sure that she's out of the way, and carefully close the passenger side door. I glance at Club Red, realizing I'd completely forgotten the world around us even existed while kissing her. I have a feeling I need to be very, very careful around her - if this kiss is any indication, it'll be easy to lose my head when it comes to Alisha.
The drive back to my place is made in silence, but not an uncomfortable quiet. More of a companionable silence as if no words are needed to fill the space between us.
Back at my place, I pull up and park beside her car. Before she can open the door, I turn to face her. “Stay with me.” The words aren't quite a question, but the second they leave my lips, I see her beginning to slowly shake her head.
“I want to, but I can't.” The words are a purr low in her throat, and I try to decode them.
If she wants to stay, what’s holding her back? The fresh memory of Methew asking her to dinner and her agreeing, the way he’d pressed her against the wall, how close they’d stood while dancing all flow back into my mind and I realize maybe my mom was right. Maybe I should have claimed her before the party.
Because now, I might have lost her to the man who’s been intent on taking things from me for no reason I can discern.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, her voice still so soft and gentle, as she reaches out and touches my jaw. I close my eyes and lean into her hand, loving the blazing warmth she sends through me. I have no doubt that if she’d stayed the night, we could have something incredible... but I respect that she wants to go.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, reaching out to touch her knee before running my hand halfway up her thigh. She inhales, her eyes drifting shut as if she’s dreaming of more. More I’d love to give her, if she wanted me to... or accepted my invitation.
I can’t get the thought of our kiss out of my head. My lips still smell and taste like her, and I want more.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” With that, she opens her door and stands up. I mirror her motions, following her to her car as she drops into the driver’s seat and sits for a moment, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead while taking a deep breath.
I squat down by her side and trail my fingers from her elbow to her shoulder, then meet her gaze, taking in how beautiful she is in the dress with the gleaming gems decorating her neck, wrist, and ears. “You were beautiful tonight, but you’re always beautiful. Thank you for gracing me with your company.”
She smiles, her attention sweeping to me. “Thank you for the invite. I enjoyed myself, honestly.” Her voice lowers to a near whisper. “And thank you for being so understanding and willing to leave for me.”
I want to brush away her words. “Your comfort was more important than the party, and I mean that.”
Her cheeks go pink and she nods. “Thank you,” she says, her voice a whisper this time.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s ever been a priority in someone’s life, or if she’s always come last.
That thought bothers me and makes me want to show her that she should come first and be the center of someone’s universe.
“I’m interested in seeing you more,” I say.
She smiles, but her eyes are troubled. “I like you a lot, Charles. But I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Her kind voice takes the sting out of the words. I’m not about to hold her refusal against her, so I smile and nod.
“Have a good night,” I say, closing her door and stepping back to let her drive.