The waiter moved away.
Vance turned to me again and got even closer than last time. “Jules, Zip’s son OD’ed in the eighties. Heavy’s wife was a speed freak. They’re out for revenge and using you to get it. Frank is just a nutcase.”
I didn’t know Zip’s son OD’ed either. I hated it that Vance knew more than me.
“Crowe –” I started.
“You keep this up you need to work with people who have their heads in the game.”
“Like Mace and Luke aren’t their own kind of crazy,” I said.
His eyes flashed.
Yikes. Again, not good. I’d definitely said the wrong thing.
“Mace and Luke know their shit, understand their limits and play to their strengths. They do what they do because they’re good at it. They could teach you a few things.”
I was sure they could. Still.
I looked away, picked up my menu and started to read it like it was the most fascinating novel ever written, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was over.
Vance pulled the menu out of my hands and tossed it on the table, nonverbally making the point that our discussion was not over.
“I was reading that,” I protested.
“In a minute.”
“Now. The sooner we order, the sooner this date is over, the sooner we’re over.”
At my words I watched, fascinated in a kind of passing-a-car-accident way as he leaned in and his eyes went hard. If I thought I’d made him angry earlier with my (admittedly stupid) comment about his friends, I’d thoroughly made him angry now.
“We’re not over because of an idiotic fight.”
“We haven’t even begun, Crowe, and this isn’t an idiotic fight. You’re trying to tell me what to do.”
“I’m tryin’ to help you.”
“Then maybe you can find a better way to communicate that than saying nasty things about my friends.”
“I haven’t said anything that isn’t the truth.”
“They aren’t using me.”
“Jules, they are.”
“Then they are, but still, they like me,” I said and I said it in a way that made it sound like I desperately needed to believe it and if it was anatomically possible I would have kicked myself.
His chin dipped, his head went back in a slow jerk and he stared at me a beat. Then something happened to his face, the anger just disappeared. Vanished. Gone. In its place was something else, something softer, something I couldn’t read.
“Jules,” he said quietly.
I grabbed my menu, entirely unable to deal with the something else in his face.
“Let’s just order,” I snapped, opened it and studied it.
After the waiter had taken our orders, I sipped my cosmo and stared at the tablecloth of the booth across from us. Vance allowed this for a few seconds then his arm came from the back of the booth, wrapped around me and his hand cupped my shoulder. He curled me to face him and (again) got in my space.
“Excuse me,” I said, all haughty.
“We have begun,” he said, his eyes staring into mine.
“No,” I stated.
“I don’t know what shit you’re workin’ through but I know it’s there. I know you’d rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don’t want me to be a part of the process. I don’t care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.”
“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘this’? You fucking me?” I snapped, being nasty. It wasn’t me and I didn’t like it but I couldn’t stop myself either.
“Yeah. Me fucking you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I’m gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you’re gonna ride me. And when I’ve exhausted you and you don’t have those fucking shields up, I’m gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”
What he said stunned me, shocked me and made me feel funny but not exactly in a bad way, in kind of a good-but-scary way.
My emotional Rottweiler started barking and drooling and I pulled away from Vance but his arm tightened keeping me where I was.
“You’ve got tonight. Then that’s it,” I said.
He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re dealin’ with.”
“I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” I told him.
He let me go and grabbed a shrimp.
Then he said, “We’ll see.”
Chapter Nine
Stop Chuckling
It had to be, officially, the worst date on record.
We ate, we drank and we didn’t speak.
Well, Vance spoke, I didn’t speak. After we ate the shrimp, he pulled my hair off my shoulder, leaned into my ear and whispered, “Stop bein’ angry, Jules.”
I just threw him a look. He gave me an arrogant grin.
He seemed unaffected by my snit, in fact he carried on like nothing was wrong and I wasn’t emanating Go to Hell Vance Crowe Death Rays. Between the salad and main course his arm came around me, tucking me into his side while his hand played with a curl in my hair. I allowed this because to struggle would be tacky and we were in The Broker, the least tacky place in Denver. Between the main course and dessert, when I’d forgotten about the dip in my slacks again and had leaned forward, he ran his fingers across my exposed skin.
After we were done, he paid, we walked to his bike and he got on. I got on behind him thinking that a motorcycle was the worst form of transportation when you were holding an angry grudge against its driver. He started the bike, leaned back into me and grabbed my wrists, pulling them around his waist which pressed my torso into his back. Before I could disconnect he rocketed from the curb and I hung on so I didn’t go off the end of the bike and to a scary, body-skidding-on-pavement-tearing-skin-off death.
He parked behind my house, I let us in even though I wanted to see him break in, I wasn’t in the mood to ask and switched on the light.
Boo walked into the kitchen as I shrugged off my jacket and threw it and my purse on the table. Boo immediately started complaining about my absence and other imagined kitty insults. I scooped him up and walked down the hallway then wandered around the living room, turning on lamps, Boo in my arms.
Boo talked through this. “Meow, meow, meow.”
I finished with the lamps and looked at Vance who was leaning against the hall entryway watching me.
I really wished he wasn’t so good-looking. It would make sustaining being pissed off at him a lot easier to do.
“Shut up, Boo,” I said, eyes on Vance.
“Meow,” Boo replied, eyes on me.
I looked at Boo. “You already had your treats.”
“Meow.”
“No more, you’re too fat.”
“Meow!”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I told Boo.
“Meooow!” Boo returned.
“Are you talkin’ to a cat?” Vance asked.
I looked at Vance but didn’t answer him. I gave Boo a cuddle and then bent over a bit and dropped him.
“Meow,” Boo said after he landed on his feet, always one to get in the last word.
He went over to Vance, rubbed against his ankles and then walked down the hall likely heading to his dry food bowl.
“How long you gonna stay pissed at me?” Vance asked. Throughout Boo’s exit his eyes never left me.
“Until the end of time,” I answered.
For some reason, my snotty comment amused him.
Whatever.
“That should make tonight interesting,” he said, pushing away from the wall and coming to me.
I turned away from him and pulled off Roxie’s wrist cuff and dropped it on the pub set. Then I brought my hands up to take off my earring. My heart was beating like a jackhammer and the butterflies, which had gone away to struggle valiantly elsewhere throughout our terrible date, came back clearly prepared to put up an epic battle of good versus bad in the pit of my stomach.
I felt Vance behind me and he swept my hair from one shoulder and over the other. I bit my lip, put the back on the pierced earring and dropped it to the table then went after the other one. His arm wrapped around my middle and he pulled my back to his front then his lips went to my neck.
This felt nice, too nice, melt-your-anger nice and I stiffened my body in response.
I got the earring out and put the back on it and Vance said quietly against my neck, “Stop bein’ angry, Jules.”
“You can’t tell me to stop being angry. You can’t tell me who to spend my time with. You can’t break into my house and get into bed with me while I sleep. And you can’t make me have sex with you in return for you doing something nice for a kid who’s had no nice things happen to him in his life,” I declared then dropped the earring, turned and looked up at him or, more appropriately, glared up at him.
He watched me for a few seconds one arm still around me then he said, “I can see you aren’t in the mood. We’ll sleep on it tonight. Tomorrow, after we meet with Darius, we’ll talk, then we’ll do what we should have done two days ago.”
Damn.
I’d forgotten about the meet with Darius.
Was I ever going to get Vance Crowe out of my life?
I took a deep breath and nodded, grasping on to his out like a lifeline. “Perfect. Wonderful. Sounds good to me,” I agreed, deciding that tomorrow I’d definitely be in Nicaragua by dinner time.
He watched me again and then said, “We sleep together though.”
Hmm.
Maybe it was not so much of a lifeline as a noose.
“I don’t think so,” I returned.
I could tell he was making a decision. I watched him as he made it.
His face came closer to mine and he said, “Then tonight we do what we should have done two days ago.”
“Crowe –” I started to pull back against his arm but his other one wrapped around me.
“Jules, I’ll tell you now what I would have told you at dinner if you’d been speakin’ to me. This,” he said, one hand dropping to my bottom and pulling my hips into his, one going up my back to press my torso to his chest, “is the sweetest thing I’ve had in my life and I haven’t even fucked you yet. I never expected to get a chance at anything so sweet and now that I got it, I’m not gonna let it go. If you think you can act like a bitch and make me back off, you’re wrong.”
Was I being a bitch?
Okay, so the “until the end of time” comment was a wee bit bitchy but he was telling me what to do and saying bad things about my friends!
“You were telling me what to do,” I said quietly, still fighting my corner.
“I know what I’m talkin’ about.”
This was true. He knew more about Zip, Heavy and Frank than I did and he certainly was more of a badass mother than I was.
“They’re my friends,” I said.
“I’m your friend,” he told me and I couldn’t help it, I stared.
At his words, the good butterflies trounced the bad butterflies and the bad ones retreated to Siberia.
“Vance,” I whispered, my emotional Rottweiler deciding to take an inappropriately-timed nap and my anger started to melt away.
“Stop bein’ angry,” he repeated his earlier command but in his soft, silky voice.
I kept staring at him a beat. Then it wasn’t just my anger melting away, my body melted into his.
“Okay,” I whispered.
At my whisper, his lips turned up, his head came down and he kissed me. I kissed him back. I wound my arms around his neck and pressed into him and his hand at my bottom came up, then went down again, this time inside my pants and I liked the feel of it there, as in really liked it.
My mouth opened under his and his tongue slid in. I realized in some hazy recess of my mind that somehow managed to be unaffected by his kiss that this was actually going to happen.
His mouth moved away from mine and slid to my jaw then to my neck and his hand at my behind went deeper.
“Vance,” I whispered against his neck.
“Yeah?”
“We have to talk about something,” I said, thinking perhaps I should share my virginal status. It might turn him off and, if that was the case then I had nothing to lose because, if it did, and he didn’t understand, then I didn’t want to be with him anyway. If it didn’t turn him off, it might make things go easier for the both of us.
His head came up and he looked at me, his lips still turned up at the ends.
“Princess,” he pressed his hips into me at the same time his hand pulled mine to him and I felt his hardness. It freaked me out and made my belly flutter at the same time. “The time to talk was at dinner.”
I opened my mouth to say something but he kissed me again, lots of tongue, his other hand going up my shirt and sliding along the skin at my back. It felt good, good enough for me to go with it.
He ended the deep kiss and kissed me lightly, once, twice, again and I pulled the ponytail out of his hair and slid my fingers in. His hair was silky thick and that felt good too.
“Vance, seriously –” I whispered, my fingers tangled in his hair then I lost my train of thought when his hand came out of my pants. He pulled away and then both hands slipped my t-shirt up. My fingers untangled from his hair, my arms rose with the t-shirt and then it was gone.
Um…
Yikes.
“Two seconds,” I said, beginning to feel the edge of desperation.
He wasn’t listening to me; he was staring at my body. One of his arms held the bottom half of me to him at my waist while his other hand explored my side, my ribcage and then up. He cupped my breast over the bra, his eyes watching his hand then the tips of his fingers traced the lace across my breast.
My desperation disintegrated and with it my ability to breathe in a normal rhythm.
All right, well, whatever. So he discovered I was a virgin at the last possible second. Who cared? People were starving in Africa; there were bigger things to worry about.
But I’d worry about them later.
I leaned into him, pressing myself against him with his hand between us at my breast and I kissed him.
May was right; people had been doing this for ages and instinct kicked in. It went from slow and sweet to hot and hungry in a flash.
Our lips disengaged, my mouth moved along his jaw, my tongue tasting under his ear. I put my hands in his jacket, pushed it off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor. Then I did the same as he did with my t-shirt and tugged off his turtleneck.
“Dear Christ,” I whispered when I caught a look at his chest and abs, his stomach muscles tight and defined, “maybe I will work with Luke and Mace if I can get as ripped as you.”
He pulled me into him then his hands began roaming my skin and his mouth went to my neck.
“Jules?” he called there and a thrill shivered across my skin at his voice vibrating against my neck.
“Mm?” My hand had moved between us, fingertips exploring the ridges of his abs. I felt them tighten at my touch and, at his reflex, a pleasant jolt shot between my legs.
“Not a good idea to mention Luke and Mace right now.”
“Oh,” I muttered, my fingers halting and I felt like an idiot, “sorry.”
He kissed me again, I forgot about feeling like an idiot when he pulled his hips back and undid my pants. He pushed them down my hips and they fell away. Before I could feel weird about standing in my living room in nothing but underwear and high heels, his arm went around my waist and he lifted me clear of my slacks and set me down, leaned back and looked at me, full-body.
That’s when I started to feel weird about standing in my living room in nothing but underwear and high heels.
This lasted two seconds then he yanked me into him, my body slammed against his and he kissed me again, hotter and hungrier than he’d ever kissed me before. Then with light kisses and hands sliding down my ass, he walked me back, toward the couch.
“You do an
ything to change your body, I’ll shackle you to the bed,” he murmured against my mouth.
“Really?” I asked, just because I felt what he said needed a response. I was too occupied by trying to figure out how I could get his pants off to care about his answer.
“Why does it take superhuman effort to get anything out of you but while we’re havin’ sex, you won’t shut up?”
The backs of my legs hit the couch and I went down. Vance came down on top of me. His weight and warmth felt good and I put my arms around him and looked at him.
“You were the one who said something.”
“Shut up, Jules.”
I rolled my eyes.
He grinned at me and moved partially to the side.
Then all of a sudden his hand slid down my belly and I felt his fingers press between my legs. This invasion came quickly and I probably should have been shocked. Instead it felt good, so good, my hips bucked involuntarily and my lips parted.
Wow.
His fingers pressed deeper and that felt even better.
I hooked my leg around his hip instinctively giving him easier access and I lifted my head and kissed him, our mouths open, my tongue slid inside. At this his hand went away but came back inside my panties this time and he touched me, the first time anyone touched me there (other than myself, of course). It felt so damned good, incredibly good, otherworldly good, I stopped kissing him and moaned into his mouth.
His fingers moved, my hips moved, his fingers moved more, my nails scraped his back and, after awhile of this, I felt something begin to build inside me, something exciting and beautiful and my neck arched with the sheer pleasure of it.
“Look at me Jules,” he commanded softly.
I dropped my chin and with effort opened my eyes and looked at him.
The moment I did, his finger slid inside me.
My bones turned to water.
“Vance…” I breathed.
The second I muttered his name his eyes went so intense it felt like they burned into me. His finger slid out and then back in again and I pulled him to me as I pressed up toward him.
Then his body stilled, his finger froze and his head came up.
I stared and it was as if ice water had been poured over my skin. He’d figured out I was a virgin.