Don’t Deny Me: Part Three (3 page)

“Paul got invited too, of course,” he explained. “And it’s too late to tell Bernie not to invite him, which I wouldn’t do anyway, because that would make me the asshole. It would never occur to Paul that Bernie was my friend first, or that he should stay the hell home because we broke up, which is just going to make everything super awkward and not only because of the rooming arrangements.” Jay stabbed a fork into the small plastic cup of guacamole that had come on the side of his quesadilla.

Mick knew how that had felt, but he’d also declined years of invitations from Bernie upon the assumption Alice would be there and had only too late learned she’d been doing the same. “You guys were broken up the last time you were there.”

“So were you and Alice. Something must’ve been in the water that weekend,” Jay said sourly, then gave Mick an apologetic look. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s all cool with you and Alice.”

Mick dunked a celery stick into the bleu cheese and crunched loudly. “Let’s just say yeah, it’s all really cool. Kind of hard to believe. But cool. Hey, want me to tell him to fuck off, make sure he doesn’t go to Bernie’s?”

“Who, Paul?” Jay looked surprised.

“Yeah.” Mick grabbed another hot wing. “I don’t care. I’ll tell him to keep his punk ass home.”

Jay laughed and shook his head. “Wow. Thanks. But nah, it’s fine. I might have plans for the Fourth anyway with this new guy, and as much as I love the lake house parties, I’m not about to bring around another person there until I’m sure. You know. That it’s going to work out.”

“I haven’t talked to Alice about going.” Mick thought a moment. “Maybe she wants to go someplace else, too.”

Jay looked thoughtful. “You haven’t said anything at all?”

“Nope. But maybe we’ll go someplace romantic. Or something.” Mick grinned.

“Yeah … but …” Jay’s phone rang, interrupting him. He held up a finger to Mick while he took the call.

Mick pulled out his own phone, typing a message to Alice.
What are you up to?

Her reply didn’t come right away, but Jay was trying to give directions over the phone, so Mick had nothing to do but wait. After a few minutes, Alice’s answer came in the form of a picture message—a platter of spaghetti and a glass of wine. No text or explanation. Just a picture. Mick took a shot of his beer and sent that off just as Jay disconnected.

“Sorry about that. He’s lost. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“I’ll get out of here, then. Leave you some privacy.” Mick waggled his eyebrows until Jay laughed.

Jay held up his bottle. “Hey, thanks for coming out with me. And about Alice …”

“I know, I know, man. You’ll kick my ass.”

Jay looked solemn. “I was going to say I hope it works out for you.”

“It’s going to this time.” Mick clinked the bottle against Jay’s. “I know it.”

By the time Mick was ready to leave, Alice had replied to his text, so he called her on the way home. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She sounded sleepy. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Heading home. Had a drink with Jay after work. He was waiting for a date. Are you in bed already?”

“Oh, really?” There was a soft shuffling. He imagined her turning in the sheets. “Yeah. I was reading in bed, guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”

“A little after nine. I’ll let you go.”

Alice laughed gently. “No, no, don’t do that. Talk to me.”

He had another twenty minutes’ drive. So he talked. He had her giggling over some silly story when he pulled into his driveway. He cut the ignition but left the radio on so he could keep talking using his phone’s Bluetooth connection.

“So, what are you wearing?” He pitched his voice low and sexy. Or at least tried to.

Alice sounded amused. “Pajamas.”

“What kind?”

“Silky bottoms with a cotton top.” She paused. “Too bad you can’t come over and see them on my bedroom floor.”

His pulse quickened at the thought. “Damn.”

“Yep.” She laughed again, low and sweet.

He looked at the clock. It was nearly ten. Even if he backed out of the driveway without packing a bag and headed for her place, he wouldn’t get there until nearly midnight. They’d both agreed to keep weekly dates short, for both their sakes, but damn if he wasn’t tempted to get to her anyway.

“You’re still coming here right after work on Friday, right?” he asked.

“Yep. I thought on Saturday we could go to the farmers’ market in Lancaster. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth it. We could spend the day? They have the most amazing pie place there. And a flea market. I’ll buy you a whoopie pie.”

“Sure, we’ll see how we feel. Hey, listen, my radio’s about to shut off so I’m going to lose you. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Okay, but—” Alice said.

Too late, his radio clicked off, cutting the call. Mick gathered his phone and bag, the mail, a bunch of garbage from the past few days, and juggling all of it, went inside. A text came through while he was tossing some laundry in the washer. Then he forgot his phone on the kitchen counter while he took a bunch of towels out of the drier and carried them upstairs to fold. By the time he checked it, another forty minutes had passed.

It was from Alice, and made him smile.
GNM.

GNA,
he typed, but she must’ve gone to sleep because she didn’t reply.

* * *

Open the envelope, it’s a surprise!

—Mick to Alice

* * *

They never made it to the farmers’ market. Alice’s plans for Amish quilts and fattening pastries had been circumvented by Mick surprising her with tickets to a concert. He’d looked so pleased with himself when he handed her the envelope containing the tickets he’d printed that she couldn’t even be mad. Okay, so it wasn’t a trip to horse-and-buggy country, but it was still going to be a good time. Did it matter what they did, she told herself, so long as they were doing it together?

Besides, the Lion’s Head had always been one of Alice’s favorite places to see live music. The venue was touted as “intimate,” which translated into small. A stage, front and center. Bars on either side. A balcony above. She’d been to barely attended acoustic performances and also shows so crowded it had been almost impossible to move. Tonight’s show, a hard rock Irish band called the Dirty Dubliners, promised to be one of the latter, but that kind of added to the fun.

“I’ve never seen them live,” she confessed to Mick as they waited in line to get in. “But their last album was amazing.”

“I knew you’d love it. Glad I got that announcement about the show last night.”

Inside, she directed him to the side farthest from the stage. The bar back there generally had much shorter lines and less of a crowd, with a decent view of the stage. It was closer to the bathroom, too, always a plus when in a crowd.

“You don’t want to be front row?” Mick asked as they wove their way through the audience, her hand in his, leading him.

“I’m too old to be in the front row of a crowd like this.” Alice laughed. Her fingers curled in his. It was a good excuse to hold his hand, and she didn’t let it drop even when they got to a clear spot on the floor.

Mick pulled her close for a second. “You don’t want to be in the mosh pit, huh?”

“No.” She let him nuzzle her. “Hell, no.”

Mick laughed. “You want a drink?”

“Absolutely. Jameson and ginger ale.” Grinning, she watched his brows raise. “Hey, we’re here to see the Dirty Dubliners, gotta go Irish.”

Under cover of the shadows and the massive number of other people, Mick took her hand and pressed it briefly to his crotch. “You need some Irish? I got some for you, right here.”

It was funny and dirty and kind of trashy, but oh so sexy just the same. It made her forget all about how she’d wanted to look at quilts and cornfields this weekend, how irritated she’d been that he’d once again switched up the plans without asking her first. His hand covered hers, moving it over the bulge of his denim-covered cock. The heat in his gaze sparked her own; Alice pressed her body to his and lifted her mouth for a kiss.

“Let me get that drink,” Mick said a few breaths later, when the jostling crowd made it awkward for them to make out.

They’d need to find a quieter place for that.

Alice staked out their spot while Mick got the drinks. Her Jameson and ginger was tingly and warm and tasty, though not as delicious as Mick’s kiss. She’d found a place near a pillar so he could lean against it. He pulled her back against him, one hand hooked into her belt loop to rock her ass against his crotch.

Bill would never have come to see this band with her, Alice thought as the crowd roared and cheered at the opening band’s first notes. He would never even have known how much she loved the Dirty Dubliners. Mick, on the other hand, had been the one to first introduce her to the band way back when the band was selling CDs out of the back of their van. She had one of those CDs, signed by the original members. Years had passed and she still listened to it.

Alice let her body mold to Mick’s as they moved to the beat. There was nobody else she wanted to be with, and that thought sent competing shivers of heat and cold all through her, peaking her nipples and sending a flush up her throat to her cheeks and making her grateful for the darkness that hid them. Mick rolled his hips, and Alice lost herself in feeling him against her. It didn’t matter the beat of the song, fast or slow, they moved together in perfect sync the way they always did.

When he slid a hand along the back of her skull to twist his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back, Alice closed her eyes. This, this, oh this, she thought as Mick’s breath caressed her cheek. His lips found her ear. His tongue flicked. She pushed herself back against him.

“You know my fantasy,” he said into her ear. “About a dark hallway in a club …”

She knew, all right. It was so unfair, how much she remembered about him. How he’d told her once, long ago, that he wanted to take her into the shadows while a rock band played and get his hands all over her. His mouth.

There was a dark hallway here, beyond the bathrooms. It led to an outside exit where people went to smoke. It also had a small alcove hung with a coatrack nobody ever used, because who left their coat unattended in a bar?

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was Mick. Whatever it was, Alice couldn’t fight it. Hell. She didn’t
want
to. When he tugged her hair again, everything inside her went molten.

Mick made her lose her fucking mind.

She tossed her empty plastic cup into the nearby trash can and took his from his hand to toss that, too. At his confused look, Alice smiled. She took his hand.

“C’mon.”

Again, she led him through the crowd with their fingers linked. Inside the alcove, she found his mouth, already open for her. In seconds, Mick turned her. Put her up against the wall. He raked her throat with his teeth until she gasped. Her knees went weak, and if he hadn’t put his thigh between hers, she might have stumbled.

“You,” he breathed into her ear, but said no more than that.

“Me?”

His thigh nudged upward, pressing her in just the right spot, and all other speech fled her. She should’ve worn a dress, Alice thought incoherently. Then he could’ve put his hand up it, in her panties, inside her. …

Oh, God, she was going to come. Unbelievably, unavoidably, and undeniably. Pleasure spiked as Mick rocked her against his thigh. His mouth plundered hers, tongue fucking deep inside. Her hands went to the back of his, seeking purchase in his hair, but it was too short now to lose her fingers inside. His hand, though, went back to where it had been before. Fingers twisted, tugged, pulled. Then, without warning, yanking.

Alice came with a low moan into Mick’s mouth. She shuddered. Her pussy clenched, spasming, and her back arched. Blinking, she eased down from the high of climax. They’d only been in the alcove for about three minutes, tops. A couple stumbled down the hall, veering toward the alcove before seeing them and bursting into laughter.

Mick moved to shield her automatically, keeping her from view. That, Alice thought in a daze, was why she loved him. Because of things like that. Simple, but important, showing that he cared enough to protect her.

And oh, she thought. Oh, love. Oh, no.

“I want to fuck you right now,” Mick said into her ear.

Alice shuddered. They couldn’t. They’d already gone further than they should’ve. But she couldn’t deny that she wanted him inside her, right there, fucking to the steady thumping beat of the opening band’s last song. He was hard against her, his breath hot on her neck. His hands gripped her hips. They stayed that way for another minute before another passing couple interrupted, and then, no matter how much she wanted to stay, Alice knew it was time for them to get out of there.

“Later,” she promised him. “Later, you can do anything and everything you want.”

* * *

Listen to this song. It always makes me think of you.

—Alice to Mick

* * *

She was amazing, and Mick couldn’t get enough. Not only had she remembered his old fantasy, but she’d made it come true. Making out with her in that alcove, getting her off … He could’ve moved a stone block with his dick right now.

The Dirty Dubliners had taken the stage and hadn’t stopped rocking for the past hour. Mick had been watching Alice more than he’d been looking at the band. She bounced along to the music, throwing him a grin every now and then, and Mick found her more intoxicating than the Jameson and ginger. Everything about her was light and joy, and every time she looked at him, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be the man to always make her look that way.

He was aching to taste her. Get inside her. But it would’ve been kind of a dick move to ask her to leave early so he could get her home just for that, so Mick forced himself to stop thinking about his half-hard cock and the heat of her against his thigh, and how she’d moaned and shook. …

“That’s my favorite song,” Alice said as the band finished one of their recent hits and started immediately into a rare ballad. Her gaze glittered for a moment at the opening notes. Some of the joy faded from her face.