Moved (4 page)

“I've put this off for
far too long. It's decision time. You or Mason,” he says as his
mouth touches mine. His serious words make their way through to my
fogged brain and they swirl in the hazy mist of lust.

Like everything else
about him, his kissing is off the scale. My stomach flutters wildly
and my feet leave the ground.

He groans against my
mouth, which sends me somewhere so hot and fuzzy, I almost lose
consciousness. He pushes me back against the wall.

His tongue sweeps
across mine, back and forth in a smooth gliding action, and I can
hear myself moaning, and making strange gasping noises, that I just
can't control.

My hands slip up and
around his neck and then across his head. He pulls me closer and
takes a handful of my side swept hair, wrapping it around his
wrist. He pulls at it and moves my head to the side.

His mouth trails down
my neck, and after that, time and the world cease to exist.

I don't know how long
we were there, or exactly what happened, but it was magical, and
beyond that.

We're brought back to
reality by a tall red bus swooshing noisily past the bar, stopping
a little way ahead at the bus stop. We both come up for air and
gaze at each other in shock.

“My God Kaydee... I've
chosen you,” he says softly, tipping my chin up with his finger and
kissing my nose.

“I'll go along with
that,” I reply, my chest heaving madly in reaction.

“Let's keep it quiet.
For a few days, hmm?”

“It's probably best,”
I agree.

A few weeks may be
even better. I need to build up a lot of courage before we come
out.

He puts his arm around
my shoulder and leads me inside. My eyes sweep around the bar. I'm
grateful Sandy isn't here yet. It saves having to explain our
entrance together.

Nat turns his head
sideways as we walk up to the bar.

“While the cat's away,
eh?” he jibes.

“You've seen nothing
and know nothing, understood?” Jackson says pointedly.

“Sure, you know me.
Discretion's my second name,” Nat replies with a snigger, returning
his attention to Chloe, the mini-skirted barmaid, whilst taking a
long swig from his beer bottle.

I'm not keen on Nat.
He has unkind eyes and a mean looking mouth. I'm pretty sure
discretion's
not
his number two quality or even in the top
ten.

Jackson hands me my
drink and I sip fast, trying to warm the sudden chill that has
descended inside me.

I'm having negative
feelings about this now. Like I'm cheating. Cheating on Mason. Of
all the men I could choose to be with, I've chosen the one he
clearly has problems with me dating.

Jackson brings me out
of my deeply reflective moment.

He gives me a tight
hug, sensing my concern.

“It'll be okay. He'll
get used to it in time.”

He's obviously
thinking ahead. Time means some kind of a future.

My misery is instantly
replaced with a smile to match his. A future is good. It's one of
the must haves on my ‘seven essentials’ list. It seems we have
passion as well. Two out of seven is a good start.

I find it strange that
Jackson doesn't seem at all upset, for a guy on the brink of losing
his best pal. Perhaps he knows something I don't?

“I've been wondering
something, about Mason,” I begin. “Why d'you think he's the way he
is. With women, I mean? Uncommitted and obsessed with the same
types?”

“I'm no shrink, but if
you want my opinion, I'd put it all down to his teenage years. His
mum up and leaving that day. And the way his dad was after that. I
think that kinda kicked it all off.”

“I didn't know about
this. And what about his dad, how was he exactly?”

“Uncontrolled. Bad
tempered. Drinking heavily. Bringing lots of different women in the
house all the time. I don't think Mase got a lot of guidance, love
or attention from anyone. He used to come ‘round to ours a lot. We
were a normal, boring family. I guess he needed that.”

I smile inwardly at
the thought of Jackson's family being anything but normal or
boring.

“You think he has a
real fear of commitment because he was abandoned by his mum?”

“Look, I really don't
know. But maybe that, and witnessing the flow of women in the front
door and out the back. It became the norm I expect. Perhaps the
blonde thing is safe to him. His mum was dark haired, quite a
stunner, slim and tall, as I recall. But after her, his dad messed
around with a lot of floozies from the local pubs. Mainly blondes.
They weren't particularly nice women, just something to fill the
gap in his life.”

I'm beginning to see
Mason as a completely different person. A victim, and broken in
some way. It hurts my heart to learn about this bad time in his
life. Having been through my parents' divorce, I understand only
too well. My parents' divorce had been World War Three. They'd
argued over everything, including me, non stop.

If I hadn't felt such
a mad
―
never before experienced
―
wild fever, in Jackson's arms... and
didn't like him so much, I might stop this thing between us
developing any further.

Because, now I know
more about him, I don't want to hurt Mason. He's my friend and my
cherished dance partner. And I care about him. A lot.

But not quite enough
to say no to Jackson, it would seem.

Love and war and the
end of friendship springs to mind.

I'm having my second
wine when Sandy arrives with her other friend Ella, her boyfriend
Sam, and the new guys. I attach myself to her side and then chat
non stop about nothing in particular. Mainly to divert her
attention away from Jackson, who's standing next to me, and now
striking up a conversation with new guy number one, who looks like
he's into fitness and health too.

But Sandy's a sharp
cookie and not fooled for a minute. She's intuitive with a capital
I.

“How long have you two
been here?” she asks suspiciously.

“Well I got here ten
minutes ago,” I lie. “I'm not sure when the others arrived.”

“Yeah, right. Well,
this should go down well,” she says, sarcastically.

Obviously I'm not a
good liar. And she's sharper than a cookie, more like a sword.

I come clean.

“Okay, okay... I've
been here a while. We kinda got together, outside,” I whisper in
her ear.

“It's none of my
business, actually,” she huffs.

“Sand... don't be
off...” I start.

“I'm not off.”

“Yes you are. “

“Look, if you want to
shag his best friend, go and do it. Only please don't rub my nose
in it, because I'm just about dying for Mason to shag me.”

“Maybe this is your
chance. If we break the friend taboo, perhaps the way is open for
you to move in on him. But remember, he's not boyfriend material.
Just a bit of fun.”

She looks at me
considering her enhanced prospects, her tasty booty bonus on the
back end of Jackson and I, and smiles a wicked little smile.

“
Oh yes...
” she
says slowly, linking her arm through mine. “When are you gonna tell
him, soon I hope?”

I swallow nervously at
the thought. “Soonish. But not tonight. I want to enjoy myself
first.”

She snorts loudly and
then breaks into a laugh. “I'd love to be a fly on the wall when
that happens.”

But it's not funny.
None of it is.

We all head off to the
party, at tennish, by foot. It's a fifteen minute walk, and we
follow Ella who seems to know where she's going. Jackson and I drop
behind the rest of them by a few yards and he pushes me into a shop
doorway for a hot kiss refresher.

Our tongues twist
together in rapture. In ten seconds my knickers are drenched and
I'm just about out of my head with desire. Kissing has just been
elevated to a whole new level. It's now an erotic art form. My legs
have started to lose their ability to support me, and I reluctantly
push him away with a groan.

“We really need to get
going... We don't know where this party is, do we?” I point out,
gasping.

“I'm more than going
right now,” he replies with a chuckle, hugging me so tight I can
barely breathe. “But you're right...” He releases me from the bear
hug and takes my hand. “Come on then, before we lose them...”

We walk quickly,
catching the others up as they turn off the main road and down a
side street. Then we turn right, then left, finally arriving at
Wellington Place. Number 6.

A tall, mid thirties
redhead lets us in and we hit the kitchen, after struggling through
the heaving throng.

The whole party thing
knocks my senses cock-a-hoop.

It's noisy, hot,
smoky, and full of people misbehaving. One way or another. The air
is blue, literally, verbally and physically. The blue LED lights
strung everywhere give it an unearthly feel. I'm not sure what's in
the thick, strange smelling, smoky atmosphere that's invading my
nostrils, but I can guess. Jackson shoves a pint glass of wine in
my hand. I look at the manly glass of red, unimpressed.

“No wine glasses,
sorry,” he says loudly, above the din of the techno beat, thumping
though the whole house and vibrating every cell of my body.

I take a big sip and
then another. I need to get in the mood. Because suddenly, I'm
not.

Sandy and Ella are
doing the sidestep shuffle together. There's not much room for
anything more expressive. I put my arm around his waist and he
draws me in, my face against his neck. I close my eyes and drink in
the feel and smell of him. He strokes my hair and smooths my ass
with his palm. I open my eyes and catch Nat watching us with an
evil smirk. I give him the evils back, narrowing my eyes and
frowning.

Jackson moves away and
takes my hand leading me out to the hallway, which is marginally
less crowded and noisy. He turns and starts to lead me up the
stairs. I tense up.

What the hell is he
thinking?

I'm not going upstairs
to a stranger’s bedroom. I'd need to be a lot more drunk than this
to even contemplate it.

“No way, I'm not going
up there...” I protest.

“I was planning on
resting up on the stairs for a minute, that's all.”

“Oh, that's okay
then,” I sigh with relief. He's such a nice guy, thinking of my
well being.

He sits down and
stretches his long legs out and leans sideways on his elbow. I sit
down with him, although it feels more like lying down with him,
actually.

He brushes my face
with his finger, running it around my lip and over my stud.

His face draws closer
slowly, and his tongue licks at it. My eyes close as he teases me
gently. His hand pulling me close, cupping my behind. I can feel
his dick, rock hard against me.

“This is all rather
intense...” I say, reeling with highly aroused pleasure flooding
through me.

“You think so?” he
murmurs, his lips brushing the side of my mouth.

“You don't?” I pull
back and look at him, upside and downside, pointedly. He looks
pretty intensely aroused to me.

“I don't think we've
got anywhere near the intense part yet. We're warming up nicely
though.” I can't help but smile at him, matching his naughty grin.
“Ummm, Kaydee? I'd like to take you out on a dinner date tomorrow,
if you're free?”

“I'd like that.”

“Any preference?”

“Very expensive, but
whatever.”

“Ha ha... of course.
Anyway, I don't do cheap seduction.”

He grins again and his
eyes crinkle up with amusement. I grab his head in my hands and
move myself across him, wrapping my leg over his.

I want to warm up some
more.

We're not
participating in the party going on around us, preferring to enjoy
our own private one instead. We laze on the stairs, almost
oblivious to the couples traipsing up and down it, squeezing past
and lurching against us, in various states of drunkenness.

His fingertips sweep
up and down my arm and across my bare shoulder. “I've wanted you
for such a long time. I've been dying to touch you like this,” he
says against my ear, his lips trailing a path of fire as they
navigate my neck. I raise myself up and look down at him. My mouth
is suddenly dry. I come to a rapid decision.

“Shall we go?” I
suggest. I don't care if I'm being too easy or fast with him. He
knows I'm not that kind of girl normally. And I suddenly need him,
now, desperately. I haven't been with anyone for over a year.

The long slow
seduction date tomorrow seems a long way off and I don't want to
wait. The pint of wine is fuelling my desire for him to a critical
point and I'm tipping over the edge of something...

He's up on his feet in
a second, and taking my hand, he pulls me off the stairs, opens the
front door a few feet away, and steps outside. He squeezes my waist
and kisses me on the doorstep.

“Mine?” he asks.

“Yeah, it's gotta be.”
I laugh, and kiss him back.

We turn and start to
leave, our faces still stuck together in a smoochy kiss.

But we don't get far,
because blocking our path of exit, leaning against the gate, is
Mason. The gatekeeper is crashing us, and, I sense, about to ruin
our private party.

He's taken it all in,
and knows what we've been doing, and what we are going to do
now.

No doubt about it.

No one says anything.
We just stare at each other.

He puffs at his
cigarette like a maniac and then throws it on the floor in
disgust.

“Couldn't keep your
hands off her, could you bro?” he spits at Jackson with venom,
moving forward.

“Any particular reason
why I should?” Jackson snaps back. “You've never actually laid it
out for me. Just because she dances with you doesn't mean you own
her.”