Good Sensations (7 page)

Obviously losing his sensibilities, he replies, “I understand that I fucked your girlfriend and she came back begging for more.” Will laughs.

I cringe as I get up. Standing there in shock as I listen to Will, clearly unaware of who he’s taking on.

Evan’s glare is unwavering, not showing anything other than hatred toward Will. His biceps are strong and defined as he holds him up. When he releases him, he shoves him in the chest and says, “You apologize to her or you’re gonna be the one begging, but for mercy.”

“Fuck you,” Will spews, his temper flaring.

“Fuck me?” Evan laughs. He grabs his arm, turning him toward the door, and pushes him. “Fuck you, dude.”

Sarah’s suddenly by my side, her eyes searching mine. “Are you alright?”

Frantic, I say, “We can’t let them fight. I don’t want Evan fighting.”

From behind, I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Are you hurt, Mallory?” Ryan’s there, worried and cups my cheek just as Evan and Will disappear outside.

My head is pounding and I’m uncomfortable by the intimacy of the touch, so I turn away and reply, “I’m fine—”

“You hit your head and there’s blood. I can clean it and make sure you don’t need stitches.” He starts to pull me by the hand, insistent with his grip, and leads me toward the bathroom.

I pull my hand free and stop just as Evan appears, and says, “I’ll take it from here.” Taking my hand in his, he bends his elbow, which tugs me closer, and holds my hand against his chest, his eyes never leaving Ryan’s.

Evan doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight to my relief. I follow his gaze back to Ryan, who remains close—protective in his stance. I’m not sure if he’s on guard for himself or me though, which makes me nervous.

Stepping forward, my body is the only thing separating the two ego-puffed chests.

“Sure, man,” Ryan says, “just making sure she gets taken care of
properly
.”

A heavy sigh escapes me, knowing Ryan’s words are meant to incite, insinuating everything, and that they will set Evan off again. There’s no fear in Ryan’s eyes, though I think there should be. He confidently stakes his claim to the spot where he stands… maybe even of me.
Fuck!

When I look from Ryan back to Evan, I freeze. I’ve only seen Evan truly mad once before. It was the night he fought with Noah, the night we both fought with Noah at the luau, but his eyes were different. Evan’s eyes back then showed hate, but also hurt, sadness, and confusion mixed in. The look in Evan’s eyes right now sends a shiver down my spine while breaking my heart simultaneously. Taking a step back closer to Evan, I squeeze his hand and try to pull him away from this tense situation, but he doesn’t budge. “Evan? C’mon. Let’s go,” I whisper.

Surprising me, he looks down. His face softens when his eyes look into mine. When he turns back to Ryan, his eyes harden with a narrowed glare.

“You say you’re her friend,” Evan says, his voice calm—maybe too calm. “But it seems to me that you…” he pulls me closer, against his side and wraps his arm around me, “…want more from her.”

Ryan is quick, dangerously so, stupid for fighting for something he’ll never have. “Are you afraid of the competition?”

The gauntlet has been thrown down, and knowing Evan can’t resist a challenge, I instantly pipe up hoping to put an end to this ridiculous fight. “Ryan, there is no competition and there never will be. I’ve told you repeatedly how I feel about Evan. So despite what you seem to think, I’m with Evan because I want to be, because I love him.”

Evan kisses the side of my head then straightens back up, and says, “I think you’ve gotten your answer. If you really care about her, you’ll respect her decision.”

Ryan glances between the two of us several times before he shifts, looking down at his feet. “I am her friend.” His gaze returns to me, and he says, “I’ll see you around, Mallory.”

The pain I’ve caused him is written on his face, which makes me feel awful. I try to step forward, but Evan holds me firmly in place. Glancing at Evan, I see the plea in his eyes to stay. I do, but I say, “I’m sorry, Ryan,” while he’s still within earshot.

He stops, looking over his shoulder, a small smile crossing his face when his eyes connect with mine. “I understand.” He turns and leaves the bar.

“Go to the bathroom and I’ll check out that cut,” Evan says, breathing into my hair while directing me toward the small hall where the restrooms are located. Inside, I lean forward over the sink and look at the scrape in the mirror. Evan gets a paper towel and wets it then dabs my skin. He hands me the towels, but continues rubbing his finger close to the cut. He rests against the counter, not bothered at all that he’s in the women’s restroom. “That’s the same place you hurt your head in Oahu. Are you okay?” His concern is evident. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine.” My heart hurts just looking at him. He shouldn’t be dealing with my past and here it is hitting him square in the face with insults everywhere he turns.

There’s no humor in his tone when he asks, “Is your life always this exciting?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I reply, taking a long look at him. “You’re upset. You have every right to be. I’m sorry.” The atmosphere feels thick with tension, an argument of what we both want to say brewing beneath the surface.

“I don’t want you to apologize. I want to understand what’s going on with those assholes out there. Are you close to them?”

“No, not like you’re thinking. I’m working on a project for one of my classes with them. Sarah does too. I’ve hung out with Ryan but you knew every time. He knows we’re together.”

There’s silence as he watches me continue to pat the small cut, but then he says, “Guys only wanna fuck you. If Noah didn’t prove that point back in Hawaii, tonight should.”

The door opens and a girl walks in, but when we turn to look at her, she backs out and says, “I’ll use the men’s.”

The interruption gives a much needed reprieve from the tension.

I try to temper the fight I feel looming between us. “Evan, because a guy flirts with me doesn’t mean I’ll fall for it. You don’t have to fight the world to protect me.”

“That asshole had his hands all over you and you what? Expect me to let him get away with it? Did you hear the shit he was saying?”

When I reach over and touch his chest, his body is hard, heavy with the burdens of our long-distance relationship before he slips away from me. “You can’t be friends with every guy you meet, Mallory. You think you’re being nice, but it’s gonna fuck us up.” Pacing, his agitation is obvious in his every movement.

My hands grip the counter behind my back as I lean against it watching him. “Are you telling me I can’t be friends with men?”

“No.” He stops in front of me. “I’m not threatening you. You can be friends with who you choose to be, but the reality is this whole night could’ve been avoided if your
friends
respected your boundaries. But they don’t. They’re disrespecting you,
me, and our relationship.”

Tamping down the emotions I have built up from the earlier phone call with his mother, I say, “They know where I stand. They’ve just chosen to ignore the facts.”

He stops with space between us, leaning his back against the wall. “I’ll be honest. Seeing these guys hanging around you is fucking with my head. You say they know where you stand, but I need to know. I need to know when I’m in New York and you’re here, where do you stand then?”

I move in front of him, pressing my hips against his. Taking his face between my hands, I make him look me in the eyes. “I’m right here. I’m right here standing by you, only you. Always.” I kiss him—slow and light, cautiously, as I try to calm him.

“I miss you, baby.”

“I miss you like crazy,” I say, and hug him.

His heart thunders in his chest, beating against mine as his arms wrap around me.

When he leans back, a small smile tugs at the sides of his mouth when he says, “This doesn’t change the fact that your Ex is a real asshole.”

I laugh, loving the humor he can find in the moment. “You’re right, but he always was and probably always will be. You’re not though, so I don’t want you getting upset over jerks like him. Anyway, not every guy wants to sleep with me. Case in point, the manager of the third property we looked at today. He didn’t even notice me.”

Amused, he laughs. “Because he was gay and you know it.”

“That would explain why he lingered on your every word. But what you’re really saying is that I can be friends with certain guys because they
don’t
want to sleep with me, but not all guys because they
do
want to sleep with me. This is kind of ridiculous, you know.”

“I never said they wanted to
sleep
.” He pulls me closer and holds me. “Come here.” He kisses me again—hard this time with no reluctance and all the passion we had in Hawaii is back, making me whole.

Our lips part and I watch him as his eyes slowly open, and he says, “I don’t want to fight with you, but this…” He rubs his hands over my hips. “…Is all mine. This…” Continuing, his fingers slide across my mouth. “…Is mine. And this…” He strokes between my legs, firing every nerve into a frenzy of sexual hypertension. “…Will never be touched by anyone other than me again. I told you, I’m not good at losing or sharing. You remember that when I’m back in New York.”

Another girl opens the bathroom door and stops, startled when she sees us.

I release a heavy breath, my heart beating fast and my body turned on by his claim to me.

Evan steps forward, taking me by the hand. “We’re leaving,” he says to her with no apology for hogging the woman’s restroom for so long.

When we walk out, Sarah and Josh are at the table, waiting for us. I thought Evan would want to go home, but he doesn’t. He walks straight over and says, “You guys up for a game of pool. Teams. Me and Mallory against you two?”

Sarah hops off the stool with a big smile. “Yeah, we’re game.” She looks at me and asks, “You okay? Your face is all pink.” Her hand goes to my cheek. “And you’re hot. You feeling alright?”

I look at Evan and he has that damn, confident, sexy smirk on his face, and I reply, “Better than ever.” I try to get my thoughts off of how good it feels when his hands are on me and back to the reality that I’m in the middle of a bar.

Evan gets the rack from the slot under the table and hands it to me. “Rack’em up, sexygirl.”

With a smile on my face, feeling the liberation from weighing issues, I take the rack from him. “Anything for you,” I reply with all the sexual intent I can muster.

He crosses his arms over his chest and asks, “Anything? I’ll keep that in mind later.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, anything within reason.”

“Damn,” he says, snapping his fingers.

I collect the stray balls while walking to the other side of the table. After putting the balls in the rack, I lean forward to push it onto the mark and center it. He comes around and smacks my ass. “I’m liking this view.”

Shaking my ass, I give him a little show. Then he leans against me from behind, bending with my body as his hands take the rack and pull it closer to us. “The balls have an order. Let me show you.” He lifts the rack and sets it next to the triangle of balls then takes the one ball and places it at the top of the rack. “Now a stripe and a solid, a stripe and solid with the eight ball between them.” He presses his middle harder against my ass with each ball he racks.

I grab a stripe and he tells me to place it in the bottom left corner and then a solid in the other corner. His hands rest on my waist as I rack the rest ‘how I want.’ Turning around, I slip a finger into a belt loop of his jeans and tug him even closer. When I kiss him, Sarah says, “You know you’re in public, right?”

I laugh just as I’m about to kiss him again. Evan, looking over my shoulder at her, says, “A little PDA never hurt anyone.”

Josh grabs Sarah, surprising her with a full on, knee-weakening kiss. When they finish, she’s a bit dazed and has a goofy grin on her face. “Nope, never hurt anyone,” she replies dreamily.

In the middle of the first game, I spy Will leaving the men’s restroom while holding bloody paper towels to his nose. He looks pissed, so fortunately he never sees us. Seeing the damage on him, I immediately glance over at Evan and look for any marks. There are none on him. Our eyes meet while he chalks his stick, and then he smiles at me, not seeing Will walk out of the bar.

Josh gets his attention by nudging him. “Your go, man.”

He looks down and sets up the shot before sinking two balls. We play two games, tying them when we decide to call it a night. It was hard for Evan to lose that second time because he sunk the eight ball and couldn’t blame me for the loss. Not that he would, but it was a hit to his manly pool-playing ego. Tired from the day and all the emotional turmoil from earlier in the evening, we all four leave, parting ways with Sarah and Josh out on the sidewalk.

Once we’re back at the apartment, he sits down on the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “You’re all goodness and trust. You know that? Two of the qualities I love most about you. Hell, I wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so kindhearted.”

I walk to the couch and sit down next to him, needing to be close. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I enjoy his warmth. “Being with you like this is one of my favorite ways to be.” I curl my legs under me, and add, “You’re also made of goodness, Evan, inside and out.”

Any other night and the old us would have made love, buried our feelings in sensations, moans, and ecstasy. Tonight, we don’t. Instead, he kisses me on the top of the head and we cuddle in silence, appreciating the quiet of the world while listening to the other’s soft breath.