Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (65 page)

Phil pulled me in closer. “You never went to prom?”

I shook my head and laughed. “No, I was way too cool by then to even consider it.”

The song playing was upbeat.

Phil grinned mischievously at me. “Can you swing dance?”

“I’m okay at it,” I replied.

“Follow my lead then,” he said. He pulled me from the booth and onto the dance floor.

Phil then proceeded to blow my fucking mind. Dipping, twirling, and lifting me for the next five minutes in between some fancy-ass footwork, he revealed a secret part of himself.

Motherfucker can dance!

“Oh my God, Phil!” I shrieked as he lifted me above his head.

“Hey, you wanted to dance with a boy who’s taller than you!” he replied, laughing.

Around us, people had decided that they’d prefer to watch the two giants cut up the floor rather than dance themselves. Either that, or we were a hazard to dance too close to. I couldn’t care less though. Phil had never looked so carefree, so happy, and I wanted nothing more than to keep that look in his eyes.

When the lively tune ended, we received a round of applause that made him laugh and me blush. The next song started up, slow and sexy, and he pulled me back into his arms. Other people joined us on the dance floor once more.

“I’m shocked, Phil!” I laughed. “I never had any idea that you could dance like that.”

“Not many people do,” he replied with a warm smile.

“I should’ve known though. For a man of your size, you’re extremely graceful.”

It was a magical experience for me, slow-dancing with him. He looked down into my eyes as though I were the only person here with him. His hand on my lower back held me flush to him while his other hand held my palm to his steady heartbeat.

Impossibly, I was falling even
more
in love with him.

As the song came to an end, his head dipped, and he kissed me. “I love dancin’ with you.”

“That was
a lot of fun,” I happily agreed.

“I’ll take you dancin’ anytime you want.” He took my hand and led me back to our table. Laughing, he told me, “It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

“That was awesome,” I said. “Were you ever in dance competitions?”

He shifted a little in his seat. “Yeah. When did you learn to dance?”

“Mom made me take ballet and jazz when I was a kid, and when we were in high school, Alys, Lili, and I thought the whole rockabilly scene was pretty cool, so we took lessons for a while. Nothing serious though.”

“You’re a natural,” he warmly told me.

I shrugged. “It’s probably the yoga.”

Phil gulped down some water. “My dad made me take lessons when we moved from LaPlace to NOLA. I think I was seven or eight years old, and I wasn’t allowed to quit until I was fifteen. Dad thought it’d give me some manners or culture me up a bit. Poor man wasted all that money and still ended up with a rude bastard for a son.”

“Those ten minutes I just spent dancing with you were worth every penny,” I told him.

He smiled, his dimples showing. “I’ll be sure to tell Dad that.”

“I guess you’ve always danced with shorter girls.”

“Does your height bother you?” he asked softly.

“I was teased a lot as a kid,” I admitted. “I felt a bit like a freak in high school, but over time, I learned to appreciate it, you know? I simply stopped listening to what others thought about me, and I found that I really liked who I was,
what
I was. I might not be the most desirable—”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he stated flatly. “You’re the most beautiful woman ever created, Kenna. And anyone who can’t see it can go fuck themselves.”

“Oh, well, as long as
you
keep fucking me, I couldn’t care less what others do to themselves.”

Smiling, he took my hand and brought it to his lips. “You want to keep dancin’ then?”

I want you to take me home, so I can rip those fucking jeans off your perfect ass.

In no way did I say that out loud, but Phil had this amazing ability to catch up with my thoughts, and he smirked with what he’d read in my eyes.

“Yeah, let’s do that instead.”

By the time he pulled the Charger into the garage, we were so hot for each other that we were racing into the house and up the stairs to his room. Liberating joyous laughter bubbled out of us, both of us feeling as though we had conquered the perfect date.

“Shower!” he roared, tearing at his clothes. “We skipped dessert, Baby Girl. I’m fuckin’ dyin’ to eat your sweet slice, and I
know
you won’t let me if we don’t shower first.”

I tore at my own clothes, slipping out of the dress in the blink of an eye, wanting nothing more than to be his dessert.

“Oh fuck,” he growled, seeing me in my matching bra and panties.

Yanking me into his arms, he crushed my mouth beneath his, his hands sliding around my back to unhook my bra with the snap of his fingers. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, his mouth brushing over mine.

Hopping into the shower, we each scrubbed ourselves down, not trusting ourselves
not
to bang one out in the shower.

Seeing his smiling mouth and the sparkle in his eyes, I couldn’t help the odd twist to my thoughts. Maybe it was the undiluted sheer happiness radiating from him that had prompted them.

Was he really never like this with anyone else?
I wondered, feeling a strange pang zip through the region of my heart.
With all the women he’s been with…he really had no sense of connection with
any
of them?

He had to have!

Even though I’d never felt about Brian the way I did for Phil, I had truly enjoyed the time I’d had with my ex-lover. We had showered and played and laughed together. We had taken pleasure in each other’s company.

Did Phil really not have that with anyone else?

And what about the women? Did they offer themselves up just because he was a rock star? Or were they hoping that, in sharing themselves, maybe he’d see them as something more? Did they ever get to lie in bed with him and make him laugh? Did they love him at all—even maybe just a little? Did they ever wish that they could have what I have with him?

Sitting on the edge of his huge bed, naked, I waited for him to come out from the bathroom, and I found myself disturbed by these thoughts. I was saddened for him for his lonely past…and yeah, maybe a little for myself as well…and
definitely
for the women who had missed out on having this with him.

But maybe it was why we were so deliriously happy
now.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his hips.

Dude…he should totally be illegal. His body is too fucking good-looking! And when it’s on top of me, inside me—

“Oh, nothing,” I replied, trying and failing to yank my thoughts out of the gutter.

“Liar.” He laughed. “You were thinkin’ hardcore. What about?”

“Well…” I sucked in a deep breath. “I was wondering what it was like for all the other…”

How the fuck can I even tell him that? He’ll think I am an absolute head case.

I was thinking about how sorry I feel for all the women who missed out on this?

Yeah, that doesn’t sound nutty.

“All the other what?”

“All the other women you’ve been with. I was wondering how…” My voice trailed into silence when I saw the look on his face.

Like the flip of a switch, he went from jubilant to downright nasty.

Whoa.

“If they…” I couldn’t finish. My throat closed painfully with his hateful glare.

“You wondered
what
?” he snarled, his face both incredulous and furious. “You want to know how it was for them, being with me, and me not giving a flyin’ fuck?”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered, my head spinning with this crazy turnabout.

He was looking at me with absolute disgust, like I was a piece of shit.

“N-no, Phil.” My poor heart cracked in half with that look. “I didn’t—”

“Even after I told you how fuckin’
disgustin’
it made me feel?” he raged, his face darkening with his fury. He sucked in a sharp deep breath through his nose, his eyes flashing hellfire.

“Fine,” he spit. “I’ll fuckin’ show you.”

I don’t know exactly how, but I’ve fucked up. I’ve said something very, very wrong here. He heard something entirely different than what I was trying to say—

Yanking off the towel, he tossed it with particular viciousness onto the bed. Like a predator, he stalked up to me, lifted me, and threw me back onto the mattress.

What fresh fucking hell is this now?

With one hand, Phil grabbed my face, forcing me to meet his hateful gaze.

“Why,” he asked silkily, “would you ever want to be just another wet hole to me?”

I tried to shake my head, but his grasp was ironclad. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, not physically. But there were so many different forms of pain, and I was absolutely terrified that I was about to be introduced to one or more of them.

Turning my face to the side, he hissed vilely in my ear, “You don’t look at me. You don’t say a fuckin’ thing to me, and don’t even
think
about touchin’ me unless I tell you to.”

“Phil—” I gasped in complete shock.
This is not
my
Phil!

He clapped a hand over my mouth. “What the fuck did I just say?”

I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

“Spread your legs, baby.”

Maybe it was because of the impersonal, general term of endearment or the fact that I loved him with my whole heart—even now, that I did as he told me.

He released my face to brace his weight above me while grasping himself with his free hand and positioning himself at my entrance.

I swallowed hard. Deep inside my head, I knew what was coming.

Thrusting into me, he didn’t remove his hand. He held the root of himself so that he wouldn’t go all the way in. Pulling back, he thrust into me, over and over, and it was so
weird.
It wasn’t physically unpleasant, not painful in any way, but…

There’s no love, no need for him to take me with him. He’s really only seeing me as something to dump his lust into.

He was unable to reach that spot,
his
spot deep inside me, and it broke my heart. He didn’t care about me. I meant nothing to him.

Without thinking, just needing to feel
him
with me, I reached up and placed my palms against his sides, over his ribs.

Please, please just come back to me. I didn’t mean for this. I never wanted this! I never wanted to feel this way! I don’t want
you
to feel this way!

“Did I say you could touch me?” he snarled.

My arms dropped like lead weights to the mattress, and I tightly squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the stinging tears behind my lids.

Sitting back on his heels, he lifted me into his arms, pushing all the way inside. It filled me with hope. With one arm, he held me, my chest pressed to his, and he grasped my face again with his other hand.

“Is
this
what you wanted, baby?” he asked softly, his voice loaded with venom. “Is
this
what you’re looking for? You want to feel all of me in you, to be held close to my heart?”

“Always,” I replied, my throat closing on my impending tears.

His lips were so close to mine, and all I wanted was to feel the sweet pressure of them. Like a magnet, they pulled me in, and I stretched my neck forward in the hopes that I’d feel their tender warmth.

Instead, his fingers bit into my cheeks and jaw.

“I don’t kiss whores,” he told me viciously. “God only knows where your mouth has been.”

Flinging me away from him, I was just too shocked to really register what the fuck was happening. He flipped me onto my stomach just as I was thinking that perhaps it might be a good idea to get up off the bed, to make him stop this.

I did not ask to be treated like a whore!

Fisting his left hand into the hair at the back of my head, pulling until I felt the edge of pain, he held me down and pushed back into me, once more holding the base of his cock.

“Is this what you were looking for?” he hissed.

He was so angry with me, so full of hate, and so filled with a darkness that I couldn’t begin to comprehend. I had no understanding of his rage, how it’d flipped on the way it had. I didn’t know how he could hate me
this
much.

I don’t have to be here for this
, I realized. I allowed my mind to relax and sink.

“Don’t you fuckin’
dare
,” he raged, sensing my mental retreat. “You wanted to know what it was like. Don’t you fuckin’ run from it!
Cowards
run
.
”

“I never—” I started to say.

But then, he let go of his cock and slammed into me. “You wondered what it was like for them!” he shouted, black waves of ruinous raw energy rolling out of him. “Well, this is it,
baby
.”

Baby, not Baby Girl.

I’m nothing to him right now. I might never be anything to him ever again—all because of a horrendous misunderstanding.