In Pursuit Page 8

  I hurry into the kitchen to distract myself. I’m about to pour another glass of wine when Claire and Amanda burst out of the bedroom with frenetic energy. I plaster a cheerful smile on my face.

  “Stay away from that wine. We’re taking a shot and then going out,” Claire says.

  She rushes into the kitchen and yanks open the bottom shelf freezer. She triumphantly holds up a bottle of vodka and then removes four shot glasses from the cabinet. But there are five of us, so someone – my eyes wander to Harris and I catch him staring at me. He must be the one not drinking. In the limited time that I have spent mooning over Harris, I’ve never seen him have any alcohol. That seems out of character for a man coming from such a cultured background, and in an affluent position at a large law firm.

  The five of us are standing around the kitchen: Harris, Peter and Amanda on one side of the countertop, Claire and I on the other.

  “To friends,” Claire says, moving her glass the center.

  We clink them together, and I throw back the shot quickly ignoring the burn as the liquid snakes down my throat. When I look back to the group Peter settles his arm around his wife, tucking her neatly against him.

  “So, Jake Warden?” Claire asks with a smirk.

  My gaze clashes with Harris’. There’s no emotion to analyze, his expression stoic.

  “What? No, no thank you,” I stammer.

  “Oh, come on, Eddie. He’s totally connected, son of the state controller.” Claire nudges me with her elbow.

  I groan inwardly, but try not to show my disgust, it looks like they are friends with Jake and I don’t want insult anyone. “I’m done dating politician's kids,” I say lightly.

  “This wouldn’t be your first?” Claire asks, sounding like she doesn’t believe that someone like me could date a politician’s son.

  “My last boyfriend’s dad is a congressman. It’s a lot of pressure, dating someone with those sort of familial obligations.” This time, I can’t hold back my external reaction as I grimace.

  Jared would drag me to event after event, presenting me as his girlfriend, the daughter of decorated policeman Don Neff. Many times, I thought he was with me to help his chances at being a politician one day, not because he actually liked me. One particular evening, the night I ended things with him, we were at a fundraiser for the police. To my chagrin, Jared began introducing me as Don Neff’s daughter, instead of using my name.

  “Eddie?”

  “Sorry. What was that?”

  “Which congressman?”

  “Bill Gordon, from Virginia.”

  “You’ve had your shots. Are we ready to go yet?” Harris interrupts and Claire makes a face at him.

  “Yes, your highness. Let’s go.” Claire rolls her eyes at her brother, which he ignores.

  Claire loops her arm through mine and we lead the group back to the elevator and downstairs to Harris’ waiting car. The girls sit together in the back, buzzing about as the shots make their way into our system.

  “Are you going to dance tonight? You basically have to, so don’t say no,” Claire instructs.

  I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at her. “We’re going to a club, of course I’m going to dance.”

  Harris moves the car so smoothly through the city streets, it barely feels like we’ve been driving for long at all when we arrive at our destination, Luminous, a club in the River West neighborhood. The red brick building looks innocuous enough, as if it might have been a warehouse at some point with its muted exterior. The girls saunter forward ahead of the boys. We get inside without incident, bypassing a long line of drunk club goers.

  The club is cavernous inside, with two levels and an open atrium. The dance floor is full of writhing bodies, grinding to the pulsating music. The air seems fresh, not the usual stale and stifling sensation that I am used to in clubs. Then I look up. Luminous apparently has a retractable roof, and moonlight is streaming down on the dancers, bringing the outside world inside.

  Amanda tugs my hand and pulls me up two stairs to a cluster of booths. Balancing on the heels becomes challenging as I sway under the influence of alcohol.

  A lean, dark-haired, dark-eyed man reclines in the middle of a circular a booth, a cocky grin slinks across his face when he sees us drawing closer.

  This must be Jake, I think glumly. I want Harris smiling at me in a booth, not him.

  “Ladies!” Jake calls over the loudness surrounding us. Someone, probably Claire, pushes me into the booth and I almost fall into Jake’s lap on my wobbly legs.

  “Woah, there.” He reaches out to steady me.

  I swipe a hand through my hair, borrowing my dad’s nervous habit, and give him a small smile.

  “You must be Eddie,” he nearly shouts at me to be heard above the thumping bass.

  “Hi.”

  “Jake Warden.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I holler back.

  “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Claire and Amanda save me from responding to him as they tumble in behind me, both still shooting off energy like they are live wires. Claire leans across the booth’s small circular tables to begin pouring us vodka cocktails. I take mine without comment and begin to sip it anxiously.

  Where is Harris?

  A feeling of awareness slithers down my spine, and I realize someone is watching me. It has to be him. I keep my eyes forward while Jake, Amanda and Claire chatter around me.

  My first drink is gone when Claire decides it’s time to dance. Long fingers clamp down on my exposed thigh, squeezing it gently.

  “I’ll be watching,” Jake presses his lips to my ear and loudly whispers the comment.

  Don’t bother.

  Once again my hand is caught in Claire’s and she takes me out of the booth. I lift my other hand and flutter my fingers quickly, mouthing bye to Jake.

  Still no visual contact with Harris, but I can feel his gaze following me as I am led into the throng of dancers. What an odd concept, knowing that someone watches your movements without seeing that person. But it’s true, without a doubt, Harris’ eyes track me.

  When we reach a suitable location in the midst of the dancers, I lift my arms above my head and begin to shake my hips to the beat of Get Lucky by Daft Punk. Soon, Amanda and Claire sway closer to me, their bodies brushing mine as we move to the music. I turn my back to my friends, rotating my hips in a slow, tight circle. The alcohol loosens my inhibitions, and my movements are sensual.

  Watch me, Harris, I think as I roll my hips, sliding my hands down the length of my torso.

  Song after song goes by, I’m lost in the hypnotic rhythm. With my eyes closed, I’m moving my body in the thumping beat, with my arms above my head when I feel it. A gentle skitter of decidedly feminine hands stroke my right side. At first, I think it’s nothing more than an accident, but then slender fingertips brush the underside of my breast in a caress. My eyes snap open and I look frantically to my right.

  Who was that?

  The only person next to me is... my gyrations slow and I stare, stupefied, at Claire, who’s sporting a languid grin. But just as quickly as I wonder if she was hitting on me, she disappears into the throng of people. I blink rapidly and turn to look for Amanda. She’s MIA too. I’m dreaming, this has to be a dream.

  “I need to sit – my feet,” I say to myself. Without a look back, I wind my way through the club back to our table. When I arrive back at the booth, Amanda waits for me, bouncing to the music. She smiles brightly as I drop myself into the seat next to her, but I can tell the cocaine still impacts her behavior, by the way her eyes dart frantically around the room. She hands me a cocktail and I begin to take healthy sips.

  This night is insane.

  I peer back in the direction I came from, wondering what happened to Jake Warden. But then the drink, Jake, Claire, Amanda, the entire club fade away. Leaning against the booth adjacent to the one I’m sitting in, is Harris. This time, he’s talking to a busty brunette, her manicured hand rests on his bicep
. The low cut, red dress she’s wearing puts her assets on full display. Jealously rears its green head, ready to snap at the girl. At least Harris doesn’t appear to be flirting back, as his face has its normal serious expression.

  A text message distracts me.

  Sarah: What are you doing girl?

  Eddie: U wouldn’t believe I’m at da club!!!

  That’s definitely a symptom of intoxication – multiple exclamation points.

  Sarah: U R right girlie. I don’t believe it, send evidence.

  I fight with my phone to pull up the camera application. I nudge Amanda with my elbow. “Picture?” I mouth the word. Suddenly my tongue feels a little too heavy to move.

  She rests her head on my shoulder. We both ham at the phone as I snap the photo. The device reveals a picture of two tipsy girls, smiling sloppily. I quickly send it to Sarah, when I feel the weight of the bench I’m sitting on.

  “Who has caught your interest, and what do I need to do to take you away from them?” Jake’s breath is hot in my ear, making me instantly uncomfortable. I try to find rescue in Amanda, but she’s missing now, and Claire and Peter are on their way to take their place next to me. Jake winds his arm around me and yanks me against him.

  “Excuse me, do you have boundaries?”

  He laughs like I’m joking. “Not when it comes to a beautiful brunette in leather shorts.”

  Now across from me, Claire raises her eyebrows. Peter is on her other side and he leans into her ear, whispering something that makes her giggle. Claire’s eyes linger on her best friend’s husband, a wickedly playful smile parting her plump lips. Alert, alert! My brain yaps. Meanwhile, Jake is saying something to me, his fingers biting into my shoulder slightly.

  I tear my attention from the flirtation next door. “What?”

  “Baby,” his face leers closer, and I notice that his pupils are dilated and they are having trouble focusing on me. “You want some E?”

  I recoil backward. Drunk, yes. High on drugs? Never. No way.

  “No!” I struggle out of his arm and look over to where I left Claire and Peter, but they are gone. How did they disappear so quickly? My heart starts pounding in my chest, and my breathing becomes more rapid. This isn’t fun anymore. None of this is good, and I need to get out of here immediately.

  “Come on, don’t be a pussy.” The words settle and then he smirks when he realizes the innuendo he inadvertently made. “Though I would like to play with -”

  He's reaching for me again, when a firm hand landing on his shoulder halts his movement.

  “Edith?” It’s Harris, here to help.

  “My feet hurt. I need to go home.” I blurt out the first thing I can think of as I scramble away from Jake. My hands are completely drenched with clammy sweat, and it’s not because of the crush of bodies at the club, no, I’m wigging out and I need to leave. I don’t like drugs and I don’t like guys on drugs.

  “Okay, I’ll drive you.” His voice is steady, no slur about it. I belatedly remember that he hasn’t been drinking tonight, and it is safe to go with him. Well, as safe as a drunk girl freaking out and alone with her crush.

  I start to trip over my heels as I round the table toward him, and his arm shoots out to balance me.

  “Thanks.” I say the word very softly. With my chin near my chest, I highly doubt he heard me.

  His steady hand presses to the small of my back, sending goose bumps cascading down my inner arms. I want to prolong this moment, keep his warm and steady hand in contact with my body for as long as possible. But there’s not much to do except keep walking.

  Harris helps me navigate the crowd, and then we are outside, his car waiting a few short steps from the front of the club. He opens the passenger door of the car and, without asking, lifts me into the seat. It’s probably for the best, because I’m not sure my unsteady legs could take me up and into the car. I use the moment while he is getting himself into the vehicle to calm down. Everything is fine, Harris is taking you away from this place.

  The drive begins in silence and my eyes flutter closed, enjoying the calm sensation that washes over me when I have a moment like this with Harris.

  “Edith, I,” he starts, but then stops.

  I turn my body so that I am facing him and eye him warily. “Yes?”

  “I’m so sorry for what I said to you the other day.” This couldn’t be. Harris sounds totally unsure of himself, the words jumbling together when he quickly spits them out.

  “Oh.” It’s all I can think to say in my surprise.

  “It’s obvious, to anyone who’s seen your work that you are very talented. It wouldn’t have taken me looking at your portfolio to see just how accomplished you are as an interior designer. Hard work is not something to ever mock. Ever. You should only hear praises from me because you are so praise worthy. Edith -”

  “Stop. Please. I accept your apology, Harris.” My words sound slurred to my own ears, but I don’t feel drunk anymore. His vehement apology, mixed with Jake’s drug offer, sobers me a bit. “We all say things we don’t mean sometimes.”

  He flashes me a relieved grimace. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than we pull to a jerky stop in front of my building.

  “May I walk you up to your place?” He’s hesitant.

  Words don’t find me in this moment, so I nod. Harris jumps out of the car and races to my side, opening the door for me.

  “Can you walk? Let me carry you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?” He doesn’t allow me enough time to answer. “I’ll carry you on my back.”

  His lips twitch like they want to display a smile. Unfortunately, they remain as they are. I can’t help it, the thought of him carrying me on his back sounds way superior to me wandering home by myself.

  He turns around and bends down so I can climb onto his back. His hands hook under my knees, and I shiver at his touch. I lean back to shut the door behind us then drape my arms over his shoulders.

  At first, while we are still outside the building I just drop my cheek to his shoulder and let out a soft sigh. When his grip tightens on my knees, I rotate my head so that my cheek is gently pressing against the side of his neck. My tongue darts out on its own accord, lapping quickly at it his salty skin. In my drunk soaked mine he shivers slightly in appreciation.

  But that couldn’t be possible. Right?

  “Mmm.” It’s a soft murmur that I can’t contain when I inhale his citrusy scent, but he probably hears it. Judging by the way he swipes a finger back and forth against my knee, Harris might like holding me this way. When we enter the elevator he gently presses my back into the wall.

  “Am I too heavy for you?”

  He bounces me slightly. “Just the opposite actually, you fit so well I could carry you…”

  The ding of the elevator announcing our arrival on the tenth floor saves him from finishing that sentence and we continue the journey to the apartment. I tighten my legs around his waist, practically grinding my sex into his back. I want him so badly I can hardly contain it.

  Like a well-rehearsed habit, Harris pulls the keys from his pocket, unlocks the front door and disarms the security system. He takes me straight to my bedroom. I glide clumsily out of his grasp in the doorway, and stumble over to the bed, dropping down onto the edge.

  “I am sort of dizzy,” I muse out loud.

  A frown mars his handsome face, and Harris turns quickly from the room.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Getting you water,” he calls over his shoulder.

  In his absence, I pop up from the bed and head into the bathroom. My hands make quick work of removing my makeup. I’m bent over the sink, brushing my teeth when he reappears in the doorway watching me.

  “Can’t go to sleep without brushing my face and washing my teeth,” I mumble through a mouthful of toothpaste. I gather my wavy locks and pull them away from my face and then, splat! The toothpaste goes down th
e drain of the sink.

  “You mean washing your face and brushing your teeth, tipsy.”

  My heels are still strapped to my ankle, so now I at least reach the underside of his chin when I move to him and accept the water that he extends to me.

  “Er – that sounds better. Thank you,” I say, looking into the glass in my hands since he won’t move from the doorway.

  He shakes his head as if to clear whatever’s in his mind, and angles his body to the side so I can sneak past. I place the glass on the bedside table and sit down. He moves next to me on the bed, and we’re silent.

  “Are those your parents?” His voice is only just above a whisper, and it’s very husky. He leans across me, his arm brushing my chest in the process, and picks up the white frame. My nipples immediately pebble at the attention.

  “You look just like your mom.” His eyes meet mine and pause.

  “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

  Back to photo, then back to my face. “It’s true.”

  His gaze is so intense I feel like he’s peeling back all of my carefully constructed layers and looking at the vulnerable little girl who craves her father’s affection. To break the spell, I bend down to my feet and my heavy, numbed fingers begin to try and unclasp my shoes.

  “Let me, please.” Harris drops to one knee before me, picking up one foot in his large, calloused hand.

  How does such a pretty boy have calluses? I wonder before I fully grasp that he is on his knees before me.

  “Harris, what are you doing?” I blurt, confused by his transformation from stoic angry dude to gentle romantic man.

  “Helping you get ready for bed,” He says as his nimble fingers unhook both buckles and moves the shoe out of the way. Then he grabs my left foot and lifts to his knee, kneading the arch.

  I flop back on the bed at the first touch. “How did you know I love this?”

  I whimper before letting out a deep, sensual groan. The gentle pressure his thumb creates doesn’t completely alleviate the pain, but it pushes away the lingering anxiety from Jake’s drug offer and the maybe sexual advances from Claire.