9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Layla

The nerve of this asshole. To claim that I liked his thing.

I did not. It wasn't anything special. I've seen better.

Ugh, okay, I'm full of shit. Even I can smell it. It was the nicest thing I've ever seen. I want to see it again. I want to suck on it like a damn popsicle.

But I won't. I will not fall for his charm again. I look over at him and I can just tell he knows what I'm doing. He knows I'm arguing with myself.

"Who won?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

"Who won in the little argument in your head? The you that hates me or the one who wants me?"

"Didn't your parents ever teach you how to talk to a lady?" I fire back .

He looks away from me, the tension evident in his shoulders. "My parents didn't teach me shit," he says under his breath.

I know he grew up in Texas and his parents are still there, but I don't know much beyond that. Asher told me once that he doesn't go home very often. He's spent quite a few holidays with us since he met Asher in college.

"Are you not close with your parents?" I ask, suddenly curious to know more about his upbringing.

He scoffs. "That's an understatement."

"You never talk about them."

He tips back the last of his beer. "I don't like to," he says, then slams down his glass. "What do you say we loosen you up and make this night a little wild and crazy? We can bring back the old Layla. Although, I like the one right in front of me too."

His eyes roam up and down my body. He's not subtle with his appreciative gaze.

"How do you propose we make it a crazy night?"

He gives me his megawatt grin. "Shots."

He leaves our table and comes back with a tray of drinks. Thank goodness we ate a massive amount of carbs today. I'm hoping it helps absorb this alcohol.

"A secret for a shot?" he suggests with a knowing look on his face.

I cross my arms across my chest. "If you want to pretend that we're in high school. Fine. But you have to go first. "

He rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Bring your best, Layla. Let's get personal."

I tap my finger to my chin as I ponder all the things I want to know about this man. Without any liquid courage yet, I think our first round of questions should be easier. We can get to the good stuff after I have some hard liquor in my system.

"Best sex you've ever had?" I challenge him.

Am I torturing myself with this question? Yes, I am. But I still want to know the answer.

He shakes his head as he grabs his shot glass. "You go straight for the tough questions."

He has no idea what's coming if he thinks this is a hard question.

His eyes trail down the length of my body again, making me break out in goosebumps. "I have a feeling I haven't had my best sex yet, but it'll happen soon."

I wiggle in my seat as my body scorches with desire. He throws his shot back. I should point out that he didn't answer the question, but I think he just insinuated sex with me would be the best he's ever had.

"Alright, Freckles. I believe it's my turn to pick a question." He slides a shot glass my way. "Are you ready?"

"Bring it on, Josh."

"What's the most important quality you're looking for in a man? "

I'm stunned. This is not the type of question I was expecting. "You're making my question look bad. I didn't realize we were asking serious questions, not dirty ones."

"Just answer the question, Freckles."

"Fine. That's easy. I want a man who will be supportive. I'm a career woman, and I don't want someone who expects me to play the stereotypical housewife."

I take the shot, the whiskey burning all the way down my throat. I cringe at the taste. It's been years since I've taken a shot.

Josh is rubbing the stubble on his chin when I look up at him.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just wasn't expecting an answer like that. I thought maybe you were interested in settling down and being taken care of eventually."

"Ugh, why do all men think women want that? It's like feminism never happened. There's still this assumption that women will quit their jobs when they get married. They will obviously not be a working mom because somehow that's neglecting their children if they continue work."

"I'm sorry. I know you're passionate about what you do, and you are amazingly talented. I would hate to ever see you give up your career. I guess I just thought it's what you wanted because he told me…" he leans back in his chair, "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

He's holding something back from me. Who told him something? And what did they tell him?

"Your turn," he breaks through my thoughts. "Make it a good one. "

"What's your favorite sex scene from a movie?"

He throws his head back and laughs. I smile in return. I figured he'd like this question,

"That's such a random question, but I love it. Okay, let me see. I think the hottest one that comes to mind is the rollercoaster scene in Fear between Reese Witherspoon and Mark Wahlberg. I was just a teenager when I first saw the movie, and I got hard every time I watched it."

I can't help but laugh hard as I picture a teenage Josh popping boners from a movie scene.

"Don't laugh at me. That scene could probably still get me hard. It was freaking hot."

"You got a thing for public orgasms or something?" I ask.

"Not particularly," he winks at me. "Just thought the thrill of having an orgasm at the brink of falling down the hill of a coaster would be a huge rush." He takes his shot and winces. "Damn. Whose stupid idea was it to do this again?"

"I believe it was yours."

"Alright. I guess that makes it my turn. Nice question, by the way. Now, let's see. When did you have your first orgasm?"

Damn. I think I deserve my shot first for this question. Of course he would pick a question like this. I've definitely never told anyone this story.

"Seriously, Josh," I sigh.

"It's gonna be good, isn't it? Come on, fess up."

"I was in a hot tub once…" I start, and he instantly smirks. Fucking asshole will never let me live this down.

"How old were you?" he interrupts.

"What does it matter?"

"Trust me, Freckles. It matters."

"Sixteen if you must know. Anyway, I was in the hot tub with friends. It was at some party, and we were all hanging out in someone's backyard."

"What were you wearing? Was it a two-piece?"

"Control yourself, Josh. Let me finish answering the question. Are you going to have another uncontrollable boner like your teenager movie?"

"I just might, Layla. We're talking about you in a hot tub at sixteen years old, having your first orgasm. The only thing that will ruin it is when you bring the guy into this story."

He's going to blow a gasket when I finish this story. Lucky for him, there is no boy involved.

"So, I had a couple of beers that night. I was really loose and relaxed. Everybody went inside to get some food, and I didn't feel like it. I told them I'd wait until they came back. So, I leaned back and propped my feet out of the tub. I didn't realize it was going to line one of the jets right up against me. I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this."

Josh's elbows are on the table, a hand covering his mouth while his eyes are practically bulging out of the sockets. He's silent as he just stares at me.

"Josh. Say something. "

He takes a deep breath and lets his hand fall from his face. "So, your first orgasm was with the jet of a hot tub?"

I scoff. "Well, it wasn't on purpose! I was sixteen. Give me a break!"

"It wasn't on purpose?" he asks with an eyebrow raised. "You mean you didn't keep your pussy there in front of the jet because it felt good, and you wanted to see what happened? You wanted to chase that feeling until you came."

Why does it sound so damn dirty and yet, hot when he says it? I'm suddenly extremely aware of the temperature.

I reach for my shot to try to ease the ache between my legs. It's not fair that he got to release his pent-up sexual tension this morning, and I'm sitting here suffering in silence. Men can be more vocal about getting aroused, whereas women have to hide it, or they come off as wild or promiscuous.

"Ok, fine," I admit. "I could've pulled away. Now you know my first orgasm. Are you happy?"

"There are a lot of words to describe what I'm feeling right now."

I suddenly want to change the direction of this conversation. I don't know where this question comes from. It's probably the wine and shots going to my head.

"Moving on. I have my last question."

"Shoot."

"Do you regret kissing me?"

I hold my breath, terrified of finally learning what I've feared all along. His actions certainly indicated it was all a mistake, but hearing the words will solidify it for me. I don't know why I live to torture myself like this.

I can see it in the way he's looking at me. Pure shock and disbelief. He can't believe I'm rehashing this shit either.

Maybe I should take it back. Ask another question. I suddenly don't think I can stand to hear the words out loud anymore.

"Freckles," he whispers. "There are things I've done in my life that I regret, but kissing you is not one of them. Kissing you was one of the best decisions I've made in my life. It changed me forever."

Tears well up in my eyes. I do my best to blink them away, not wanting him to see the effects his words have on me. I watch on as people dance and laugh all around us, speaking in their beautiful language.

"Look at me, Freckles. Tell me you understand what I'm saying. There is nothing about our kiss, about that evening, that I regret. I'm sorry that I've made you think differently. It's…complicated."

I smile through my tears. I don't think I'm ready to dive into what happened all those years ago. Right now, I think I just want to stay in this moment where I know he doesn't regret that night.

"Take your shot," I say softly with a smile.

He takes it, then stands up and walks up to me, holding his hand out. I give him a questioning look in response.

"Let's dance," he says insistently. "Come on. Tonight was supposed to be fun. I believe I've watched you over the years in bars. I know you want to let loose over there. "

After a deep breath, I place my hand in his. He gives a reassuring squeeze, and it goes straight to my chest. The electricity between us from a simple touch of the hand is startling.

He brings me over to the cobblestone street where others are dancing and twirls me around. A smile instantly spreads across my face. Then he surprises me by pulling me all the way against his hard body, wrapping his arm around my waist.

The alcohol is pumping through my veins, clouding my judgment, making it hard for me to remember why being with him is a bad idea.

We start to sway to the music, our breaths mixing together. The entire world around us fades away, and it's just me and him together in this moment.

His other hand lands on my hip, and I feel his fingers grip me as he tries to pull me closer.

I smile. "I don't think I can get any closer."

His eyes are dark as they study my face. "I want more. I need more."

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my entire body against him. His forehead falls to my shoulder, and I feel his shuddering breath against me.

"I don't know what the hell this song is talking about," he whispers.

I start to crack up. "Neither do I. It's kind of fun to just focus on the beat."

He pulls away for a second and kisses my forehead. Next thing I know, he's moving us around the street without a care in the world, leading me like an expert. He spins me around and dips me.

The songs switch between sweet and sultry, and so does his dancing. One second, we are laughing and moving along with the beat, the next, my body is flush against his, and his hands are roaming all over me like he can't get enough.

We laugh and talk all the way back to our hotel. He wraps his arms around me on the boat ride after I shiver from the cold air. It only made me shiver more, but for an entirely different reason.

As soon as we're back in the hotel, I turn to him.

"Hot tub time?" I say with a smile.

"Absolutely. I'll open a bottle of wine."

I grab my suit and am sinking into the tub when he comes in with two glasses.

"Thank you," I say as I take the glass. "This really is an incredible room. I can't believe Asher and Charlotte were willing to pay for it."

"You know how Asher is when it comes to Charlotte. He'll drop his life savings to make her happy."

"True," I laugh. "It's still ridiculous. Very out of character for Asher."

"I guess we get to reap the benefits of his poor financial decisions."

He holds his glass up, and we cheers to my brother's financial missteps. I'm definitely feeling the alcohol that I've consumed. Another glass of wine might not be the wisest choice, but this night has been so much fun, I don't want it to end.

We spent the next hour drinking wine, laughing over untold stories about my brother, and reminiscing about family get-togethers at my parents' house.

"I didn't realize you were at so many of my family get-togethers. I feel like I don't have many more stories to tell that you don't know about or were there."

"I'm an honorary son to your parents. I guess whether they like it or not."

"Shut up. They love you," I tell him, though I feel like I see a hint of sadness on his face before it's gone. "Well, I think we should probably get in bed so we can get up in the morning."

He stands up out of the water before I have the chance to. For a moment, he's towering over me as water runs down every muscle in sight. Nothing but the lights of the hot tub shine around us, and I'm completely lost in my thoughts.

His bathing suit bottoms are molded to his skin because of the water, and I see the outline of his dick. A dick I have now seen but have not touched or tasted. I can't seem to tear my eyes away from it. It must be the alcohol because my brain is screaming that it's massively obvious that I'm staring, but my body isn't moving. My eyes won't look away.

Until I see it start to grow in his shorts, then my eyes go directly to his. I stand up in the hot tub until we are inches apart. I raise my hand until it cups over his hard length. We both groan at the same time, and his head falls back.

A small smirk plays at the corner of my lips as I feel him grow even harder in my hand. He curses to the sky then reaches down for my hand. He moves it off him and leans down to give it a soft kiss. I'm not sure what's going on.

"Freckles, you're drunk," he croaks out like he's in pain.

"So are you. What's the problem?"

He sighs then tucks a wet piece of hair behind my ear. "I don't want you regretting it in the morning. Come on, let's go to bed."

I'm left standing alone in the hot tub, humiliated and rejected.