Breaking Free (6 page)

I swear, men are so damn clueless. Couldn’t he have given me some warning? Someone clears their throat and I see Drew and the hostess standing about five tables away, waiting for me.
Great, now I look like an idiot, too.
My cheeks heat up as I close the distance between us and sit down at the table. Drew sits down across from me and the waitress lingers a little too long by his side ‘showing him the menu’.

I glare at him from across the table and he’s staring at me in utter amusement. “What?”

“You couldn’t have at least
warned
me about where we were going? I look like a complete idiot!” I say the last part a little too loud and I can tell he’s irritated.

“You need to keep your voice down. I don’t need the whole damn restaurant knowing my business.” He takes a slow drink of his water, and even with as mad at him as I am right now, I can’t help but stare at his mouth. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of water left on it. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to moan. I have never in my life met anyone who makes me feel the way that Drew Walker does.

He smiles at me and I can tell that he knows he’s affecting me. I clear my throat, trying to make sure my voice doesn’t come out as a breathy whisper of seduction. “I’m just saying you could have told me not to dress like a streetwalker when we were going to be at a nice place.”
Wait, did I just call myself a streetwalker?
Nice, Holly.

He laughs. “When exactly would I have told you where we were going? When you were throwing your temper tantrum, trying to run from me, or when you were trying to abuse me?” He places his hand on his chest where I hit him, pretending that I wounded him. “Either way, I really don’t give a shit what people think.”

I can tell that he means it. Drew does whatever he wants and doesn’t care what anyone else has to say. I remember the way he took care of the photographer last night and the call he placed right afterward.

The waitress comes up to take our order and I haven’t even looked at the menu. Drew is staring at me and I can’t even form a cohesive thought. “We will both have the surf and turf cooked medium, no rush.” He doesn’t even look her way as he is speaking, but grabs the menu out of my hands and gives them to her. She lingers for a minute, unsure of what to do, then realizes she’s been dismissed and walks away with her tail between her legs.

I can’t believe he just ordered for me. He didn’t even ask first. With every minute I spend with him, I know that I’m getting myself into even more trouble. “What the heck was that? I can order for myself, you know. What if I’m a vegetarian? Or allergic to shellfish?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Okay, so then stop being difficult, James.”

I don’t know how to respond to him. His assertiveness turns me on, but at the same time it pisses off my inner feminist. I wring my hands in my lap, feeling uncomfortable with everything.

“Hey.”

I look up.

“If you’re that uncomfortable I’ll pay every single one of these people to leave, then it won’t matter how you’re dressed.”

Seriously? Who in the world would even offer to do that? Drew, that’s who. I don’t respond and he slides his chair back and starts to stand up. “No! It’s fine, just sit down.”

He smirks at me. “Trust me when I say you don’t look like a whore. If you wanna see what a whore looks like, come backstage at any of my concerts.”

Well, that makes me feel just fucking great
. What the heck are the two of us doing together? I’m broken, and he’s…well, he’s an asshole. Is it crazy that I want him to tell me exactly what we are? He’s so confusing. He asked me to be his girlfriend, but then afterward told me he really didn’t want one. He said he wants me to be his, but what does that entail? I’m about to ask him when his phone rings.

“Yeah?”
Is that really how he answers the phone? What a douche.
“I don’t want to go to that shit…I don’t care how much they pay me…Where in the damn contract does it say that?...Fuck, whatever then. I need two tickets…No, Jules, you get me two tickets or I don’t fucking show up…Holly James.”
Me? Why did he just say my name?
“None of your business.” He hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket.

“What was that all about?”

“You’re coming to some stupid ass event with me next week.”

Oh, I am? Where the hell does he get off?
The waitress walks up to us before I can respond and places our plates in front of us. Even though I protested him ordering for me, I have to say it looks delicious. The waitress lingers by the table, I think for him to acknowledge her, but he doesn’t. When she walks away I can’t help but smirk.

I take a bite of the food and stifle the moan that leaves my mouth. When Drew looks up, the heat of his gaze makes me squeeze my legs together in search of relief. He can get me excited with just looking at me. Then, I remember what I was pissed about before she came with the food. “What exactly
are
we?”

His eyes grow big. “What do you mean? I thought we settled that already.”

“No, like everything else with you, it was really vague.”

“I want you, James. I can’t explain why, but I do. And in case you haven’t noticed, I get what I want.”

I wait for more but he goes back to eating his food.
That’s it? What the hell?!
That kind of a response makes me want to smack him in the face and tell him he isn’t getting what he wants this time. I feel a hand run up my leg, and when I look over, Drew is in the chair next to me. His hand travels up farther and his fingers slip under one of the rips in my jeans. Drew makes little circles with his thumb and my whole body is on fire. Not the kind of fire that makes me wince, but the kind that makes me want to find a secluded part of this restaurant and blow his mind.

He retracts his fingers but continues his journey up my leg until his hand cups me. He lowers his head to whisper in my ear. “I can see the fight in your eyes, but just remember what I can do to you. Only me, James.”

He smoothly moves back into the seat across from me. How can he seem so calm when every part of my body is screaming? I look around to see if anyone noticed our exchange and it seems no one did.

“You can look around all you want. I don’t care who is watching.” He goes back to eating his food as I try to seem as unaffected as possible. I know from the look on his face that I’m doing a horrible job.

I try to finish my meal without seeming like I’m about to combust from sexual frustration, but I barely make it. Drew doesn’t even ask the waitress for the check; he just takes out an obscene amount of money, puts it on the table, and gets up. There is no way our meal cost that much. He starts to walk away, but turns back toward me and stares as if to ask me what I’m waiting for. I can’t help but shake my head. I honestly don’t get people like him who just throw their money around.

I follow him out, but unlike when we showed up, there are photographers surrounding the entrance to the restaurant. Drew takes out his cell phone, “Yeah, I see them. Meet me by the back exit of the building.” He grabs my hand and we walk back toward the hostess stand. “I need to use your exit in the back of the building.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Walker, but I can’t let—”

“Yes, you
can
.” He takes another bill out of his wallet, I think it’s a hundred, and slaps it onto the stand in front of her.

She seems awestruck and within a minute snaps out of it. “Follow me.” She avoids eye contact with him and I sympathize with her. His eyes can make you melt and want to cower in a corner at the same time.

We walk back through the dining room, into the kitchen, and stop at a steel door. The hostess doesn’t say anything; she just stares at him as if she is waiting for him to show her some gratitude.
Think again, lady, Drew Walker wouldn’t say thank you if you threw water on him if he was on fire.

He opens the door, and just as I expected, leaves without even glancing at the girl who noticeably pulled down her shirt as she walked us back. We climb into the car and have thankfully evaded any photographers that were waiting near the entrance. It’s really irritating how everyone bows down to him. I mean, sure he’s hot, and when he’s on stage you can’t take your eyes off him. He pulls you in with this energy and makes you want to make every wish of his come true. His touch is enough to…
Ugh, I can’t even mentally hate him.

We drive onto the city streets and I realize I have no idea where we’re going. Not that I have
ever
had any idea what was going on or what to expect in the short time I’ve known him. “Where are we going?”

He looks over at me as if he’s contemplating answering me. He better give me a damn answer. I try to fight him and I try to stand up for myself, but every time I feel like I just end up looking like a child. “I have my second show tonight before we leave town; we’re going to the venue.”

“I never said I would go to the show with you.”

He laughs, and it’s the one where I know he’s going to say something that will make me want to punch him in the face. “I never asked if you wanted to.”

Yep. I definitely want to punch him in the face.

Before I can reply, he moves so that he’s now almost straddling me. The backseat is huge so it’s not like there is a lack of space. “I don’t think you really understand how this works, James.”
Obviously not.
“I don’t answer to anyone and I don’t ask anyone for permission. I do
what
I want
when
I want, and if I want something I take it. Don’t act like it doesn’t turn this sweet little body of yours on, either. I bet if I slipped my hand under your jeans you’d be soaked right now. I told you I didn’t want a girlfriend and I meant it. I also told you that I wasn’t done with you, and I
really
meant that.”

How the hell do you respond to something like that?

“I see the wheels in your head turning. You want to yell at me, you want to call me an asshole, and walk away without ever looking back. You won’t, though, you know why?”

“Why?” It comes out more like a moan.

“Because you want me as much as I fucking want you. We are amazing together, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you aren’t gonna find that anywhere else.” His hand cups me and my whole body arches into him as his finger pushes against my clit through my jeans. He moves it in small circles. “Think about this every time the thought of walking away comes into your head. Think about what I do to you and all the things I haven’t even done yet.” He drags his teeth over my earlobe, and before I can react, he moves back to the seat where he had been sitting before.

Is it possible for a woman to get blue balls? Because I swear to God that’s what I have.

“Oh, and I usually don’t like leaving a mark, but it looks fucking sexy on you.” He winks at me.

A mark? What in the hell is he…no.
I pull out my phone and turn on the forward facing camera. My mouth instantly drops open. A fucking hickey?! What the hell! Are we in goddamn high school? This is just great; no
wonder
people have been looking at me all day. “How dare—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. How dare I…blah, blah, blah. We’re here.” Drew grabs the sweatshirt that seems to always be in his car and pulls it down over my head. The door opens and cameras are flashing all around. He pulls me out of the car and through the crowd. I hold my breath the entire time, afraid to look up. We walk through a hallway and go into one of the rooms. It’s a pretty nice room, but nowhere near as nice as his hotel room.

I spot a set of leather couches, sit down on one, and pull his sweatshirt off of me. As I do, I get a whiff of his scent and I just want to sit here and breathe it in. Then I remember the sign of teenage hormones on my neck and throw the sweatshirt at him. “Why the hell did you do this to me?”

“Because you are so determined to prove that you’re your own person.”

“So what?” I don’t know what the hell is wrong with that. Most men like women who are independent and don’t require them to do everything.

“You are
not
your own person, you’re mine.” He walks over to me so fast and slams his mouth against mine. I want to fight him and tell him that he’s wrong about me, but I don’t think he is. Most people would think that a guy like Drew would scare me away after what I’ve been through, but he doesn’t. He gives me the ability to not have to think. I can just relax and not have to worry about how each decision I’m making might lead me down the wrong path. Not only that, but he makes me feel like a normal girl again instead of the scared pathetic creature I had become.

On the other hand, I wanted him to understand that the last thing I need in my life is another overprotective jerk. His hands move roughly over my body, and I know without a doubt that there is no way I want him to stop. There
is
a way, though, that I can take back a little bit of control. I push him off of me, not surprised by the shock on his face. Before he can protest, I stand up and thread my fingers through his hair, tugging a little so that I can gauge his reaction. He groans and I smile in satisfaction. While keeping my grip on his hair, I turn us around and force him down onto the couch while simultaneously lowering myself on top of him.

“What are you—”

“Uh, uh, uh. My turn.”

I drown his upcoming words with my kiss, and in less than a minute his hands are tightening around me. They move down my back until they reach my ass and his fingers dig in. I can feel him under me and I grind against him, forcing a moan from both of us. I kneel on the couch and lower my zipper while he watches my hands intently. I hook both of my fingers into the waistband of my jeans and slowly inch them down, painstakingly slow. His eyes are showing me the effect that I’m aiming for. Drew looks tortured, passionate, and pissed off all at the same time.

I stand up, taking my time removing my jeans. Slowly crossing my arms over my torso, I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head. Drew reaches out to touch me but I back away from his grasp and shake my head. He balls his fists at his side, grudgingly giving in to me. For now. I sink down to the floor in front of him and run my hands up his legs. I graze my fingers over him and he inhales sharply.