Filthy English (28 page)

Her lips turned down. “You asked, Dax. You fucking asked.”

My head dipped to my chest, remembering the emotion, the barrage of fucked up feelings from the night before. “I know, I know. And I’m sorry you went through it without me. I’m sorry I was a dickhead to you. I’m sorry I suck at relationships. I’m sorry I can’t be what you want. I’m sorry I stomped on your heart. I’m sorry you cried. I’m so fucking sorry. Just forgive me, okay?”

She whimpered at my words and pressed her hand over my heart. “I already have.”

I put my hand over hers, ironically where her name was. My other hand went to her hair and threaded through the strands.

“You’re shaking,” she said.

“Because I want you so bad I can’t breathe.”

“I can’t breathe either,” she whispered.

I pulled her hair back and her mouth parted. I leaned down, ran my tongue up her exposed throat, and sucked on her neck. Inhaling, I groaned at the taste of her. “This is what I need,” I whispered.

She sank into me, her tits hitting my chest.

I fused my mouth with hers. Hard.

Her tongue met mine, and we kissed like we were starving, our lips clinging to each other, our hands roaming everywhere. Touching.

I pillaged her mouth, her neck, her collarbone, unbuttoning her dress and shoving it down past her shoulders until I could see my name on her. I kissed her tattoo. “I wish you remembered how much you giggled when you got this.”

She pressed her face into my chest. “I almost do. I don’t regret it. Never.”

I tilted her face up and kissed her again. Slowly this time. I never wanted to let her go.

Voices came from the hallway as someone walked by.

“The door . . .” she said between kisses. “What if someone comes in?”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

I unzipped her dress on the side, tugging it the rest of the way down until it pooled on the floor. I squeezed her breasts, pulling them out of her lace bra but leaving it on. My mouth zeroed in on one while my fingers played with the other. Repositioning us, I pressed her back against the wall, went to my knees, and pulled her knickers down. I inhaled her scent, my hands cradling her waist.

She shuddered as my tongue snaked out to find her clit.

“Dax,” she breathed.

Need. Desire. Lust.
Love.
It all pounded. Put my mark on her.

She was mine. Not his.

“Please,” she moaned as I pushed her legs apart to get closer, my nose tracing along her legs, her thighs, and then back to her pussy. Her leg wrapped around my shoulder to get a better position.

“Look at me,” I rasped out.

Her hooded eyes fluttered open, a different kind of fire burning there now.

While I stared at her, my hand replaced my tongue, settling into her wetness. Slow. Gentle. “This. This is where I want to be right now.”

She swiveled her hips, working herself on my fingers.

“You want more?” I asked. “Harder?”

She nodded, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing.

I hissed, giving her what she wanted. “This is the real you, Remi. Hot. Ready. Needing
me
to make you come. Have you ever had this before? Have you?”

“No,” she moaned, her chest rising rapidly.

“Good answer.” I stood and kissed her, our tongues caressing each other. With my other hand, I tugged my shirt off over my head and threw it down with her dress.

“I need you,” she whispered, rubbing her hand across my chest and down to my hips. “Take me.”

“Say my name.” I closed my eyes at the need in her voice and stroked her center again, my thumb brushing her bud.

She shuddered. “Dax, you. Always you. Forever you.”

I bent my forehead against the wall, all the air sucked out of me at her words.

She pulled my hair back until our faces were level. “What am I going to do? I can’t stop how I feel about you.”

We stared into each other’s eyes, deep into our past.

I’d been a failure the first time we’d met. What did I have now that she’d want?

Or need?

I did the only thing I knew I was good at. I touched her, owning her, pumping until her mouth opened and she writhed, her back arching as she cried out.

“Yes, love, yes,” I whispered against her mouth.

She came undone, her muscles clamping down, her gasps like music, and I didn’t miss a minute of it, imprinting her image in my brain.

Her eyes glossed over as she whispered my name. Once. Twice. Three times.

Slightly dazed, she rested against the wall.

Sliding my shirt back on, I picked up her dress and helped her step inside it. I zipped her up, my hands lingering on her shoulders. Aching. Still needing
something
and it wasn’t just to get off.

She brushed her hair in the mirror while I did mine in the other mirror.

With shaking hands, she found her purse on the floor, opened it, and pulled out her lipstick. I watched her rub it on, eyes glassy.

She turned to me, a dead look in her eyes. “We can’t do this again. I can’t handle the pain that comes afterwards.”

“I know.”

Her eyes watered. Fuck.
I couldn’t be what she wanted!

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the box, gently easing out the bracelet. She gasped as she cupped it in her hands and then looked up at me.

“How . . . When?”

I kept silent as I wrapped it around her wrist and fixed the clasp.

I swiped at one of her tears.

She grabbed my hand. Kissed it.

“Go,” I whispered.

I closed my eyes and counted to five. When I opened them, she was gone.

KNOWING THAT HE
was going to be with Alexandria, knowing that he wanted me but didn’t, made me want to crawl in a corner and weep, but my head wouldn’t allow it.

Use pain to make yourself stronger.

Use heartbreak to make yourself wiser.

With that mantra, I made my way around the bar and forced myself to talk to a few people I hadn’t seen all summer. There were questions about Hartford and me, but I fielded them by changing the topic or moving on when I saw someone else.

Dax eventually emerged from the hallway, his face a block of ice.

His eyes met mine and quickly bounced off. I watched him weave his way through the crowd, his head above most of the people there. He got within a few feet of me, paused for a moment as if debating, and then marched over to the pool tables in the back. He curled an arm around Alexandria as she was about to shoot with her cue stick, surprising her and making her squeal. She turned and giggled as he leaned over to show her a better way to shoot.

My body stiffened when his eyes flicked over to me. Watching.

Lulu came up to me. Her eyes flicked down to the tequila I’d ordered on a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Uh, we both know you shouldn’t be drinking that.”

“Yet, here I am,” I said dryly. “Torturing myself. In more ways than one apparently. Good thing the bar doesn’t sell tacos.”

“Dax?”

I nodded, my eyes darting back to the couple in the back. Alexandria had taken her shot and now they stood against the wood paneling of the wall. She stood in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. I imagined her melting into him like I always did.

Don’t think about them together.

I sucked in a breath, willing myself to not stare at them. But I couldn’t stop. I wanted to march up to Alexandria and pluck every bleached hair out of her head. Maybe her eyeballs too.

Lulu had obviously seen them too. She gave my hand a squeeze. “Ah, Alexandria. You know, girls with five syllable names are all huge sluts. Always. We proved this theory freshman year when we met Eva-Maria.”

I gave her a small smile. “I have three syllables.”

“You’re just a tiny bit of a slut,” she said.

“I love you.”

“Awe. Love you too.”

We toasted our drinks, and I drained mine. I held up my empty glass. “Looks like I need another one.”

Hartford found me near the end of the bar with another tequila in my hand. As he strode over to me, I pushed out a smile. Wearing a pale blue shirt that drew attention to his blond hair and a pair of preppy plaid shorts, he sat on the barstool next to me. His handsome face seemed tense. Dax’s party hadn’t been his idea of a great time. He’d only come because I’d asked.

“Hey, you disappeared for a while,” he said.

“Yeah. Went to the bathroom and decided on a drink.” I tipped back the rest of the shot.

“That doesn’t seem like you.” Earlier I’d told him I wasn’t drinking since classes started tomorrow and I wanted to be at the top of my game. He swept my hair back so he could see my face more clearly. He sighed, the heat from his body warm and safe and familiar as his fingers touched my cheek and trailed down my jawline to my lips. “There are times when I feel like I don’t know you at all, Remington.”

There was an odd sadness in his eyes.

I started. “What do you mean?”

He slid his eyes from me to the hallway where the restrooms were.

Had he seen us?

“Do—do you mean since we took our break? Or since forever?”

He clutched the beer he held, took a long drink, and set it down carefully as if he was thinking through each motion. “Both. I don’t know. I mean, you come back from London and you’ve got this wild hair and you seem—different. You’re not soft anymore—you seem like you might break.”

He paused. “You don’t look at me the same way.”

I faced him, my knees between his, not wanting any of the other people standing around to hear us. “There’s a hole in us—somewhere—and
you
saw it, and now you want me to suddenly patch it up.”

His hand cupped my nape. “But do you
want
me back?”

I wanted the guy who’d make me happy.

“So much has changed.”

“I haven’t.” He pulled me in with his hand, and for a long moment, he stared at me, searching my face. “I still love you, Remi, no matter what you’ve done.”

What did that mean?

He kissed me, his lips cold, his tongue bitter from the beer.

“Finish your drink. Let’s get out of here,” he said as we pulled apart. “There’s hardly anyone here I like anyway.” He tossed money on the bar to pay for my drink.

I blinked at the suddenness, my eyes scouring the room for Dax. “Isn’t it rude to leave so soon?”

“I want to be alone with you.”

Not now. Not after Dax. I couldn’t.

“Hartford . . .” My voice was hesitant. I plucked at my bracelet, and his eyes widened.

“Remi! Where did you find it?”

I looked down. My chest ached. God, that moment in the bathroom. “Dax.”

His eyebrows slashed down. “How did he find it?”

“I—he just gave it to me tonight . . . I don’t know.”

“Yeah?” His eyes went to my lips.

I licked them, knowing they were swollen. “He didn’t say how.”

“He just handed it over and walked away?”

I shrugged.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“Earlier. In the hallway.”

I was lying to him.

This wasn’t right. I couldn’t do this. I was an awful person.

He took my hand and helped me down off the stool, an urgency to his movements as we moved around the bar.

“Wait,” I said. We’d gotten to the front door ready to head out. “Shouldn’t we tell Dax goodbye? It’s—it’s his party.”

Hartford’s lips thinned, but he nodded, his eyes already scanning the room until they lasered in on the pool tables. Holding hands, we made our way to the back of the bar. But with each step closer to Dax, Hartford grew tenser, as if something inside him was building. Bubbling.

Dax watched us approach with hooded eyes.

Hartford came to a halt in front of him. “Came to say our goodbyes although we’ll probably see you soon.”

Dax arched a brow, his voice cold. “That so?”

“Your house? We’re headed there now.” He wrapped an arm around me. “You might want to give us a head start though. We’ve got some catching up to do now that Malcolm’s gone. Remi’s hot for it tonight . . . can’t keep her hands off me.” He leered at Dax. “If you catch my meaning?”

“I see.” Dax paled, his hand white around his pool cue. Gray eyes found mine.