Page 27 of Elusive

Chapter 8

Presley

What I often lack in rationale, I do make up for in self-preservation, even with a few drinks in me — so I cut my “dramatic exit” short of the actual exit — and wait just inside the door for my Uber to arrive.

My phone vibrates in my hand; the same gut instinct that keeps me from doing dumb shit like waiting outside tells me… it’s not an alert that my ride’s here.

JT: Don’t even think about it. Not fucking kidding. Your choice, me or him.

Me: You or him what?

JT: Which one of us do you CHOOSE to see you home safe?

“I’ll assume you would’ve said me,” Sutton’s growl startles me, but not near as much as feeling myself suddenly sail through the air does. “Answer him so he doesn’t worry.”

“Put me down!” I wiggle against his hold, and shoulder, which I’m being flung over. “Unfortunately, I’m perfectly capable of walking. I was too drunk to manage, but your psycho girlfriend killed my buzz a long time ago.”

“Don’t blame ya for being mad, have at it, but I’m not putting you down. And I’m really sorry about Hailey. Not my girlfriend,” he clarifies with angry emphasis, “but for sure my fault. Now text JT back or I will.”

Upside-down, in more ways than one, I manage to type and hit send.

Me: Riding with Sutton. I’m fine.

He replies instantly.

JT: I know, saw him give ya a lift. LOL. Figure shit out. I love ya, P.

It takes a few seconds before my mind settles around JT’s message and my weary whisper breaks the silence. “Sutton, please put me down. I can’t, I can’t think straight when you’re touching me.”

“Welcome to my world,” his muted chuckle isn’t real, unlike his long sigh as he carefully places me on my feet. “I haven’t been able to tell up from down since the second you decided to pop back into my life, Hot Shot.”

“Sutton,” I pause, to try to squelch the tremor of unnamable emotion in my voice, “I should’ve left well enough alone. I’m the one who’s sorry. You had something going with Loco Lady, and I screwed it up for you. We all have our “inner crazy” that we try our best to keep hidden, as long as possible, until we’re provoked. In fact, I shouldn’t call her names, she’s only acting out because of me. Because I provoked her. But if, no, when, when I disappear on you again, so will her erratic behavior, don’t worry. And the faster we get on with my disappearance, the faster you can get on with your life. If you’re gonna insist on taking me home, do it, then go talk to her. Oh, by the way, I’ve never had a Cocker Spaniel, forget what I said and give him a chance too. So, where’s your bike parked?”

His hands come up to cup my face with demanding tenderness and those deep jade eyes, that I’ve never been able to see to the very bottom of, trap mine. “Presley Beckett, you are the single-most infuriating woman on the planet. And that’s saying something, considering what said Loco Lady’s put me through lately.” This laugh’s fake too, more an audible release of disbelief. “You don’t get to take credit, or blame, for Hailey’s behavior. She’s a big girl, makes her own choices, so that’s all on her. But it is my fault she was even around, and that I didn’t say something sooner. Regardless, you also don’t get to assume my life starts and stops with her. I assure you, it doesn’t. Gimme some fucking credit. And, Miss Priss, need I remind you that you haven’t been, nor will you ever be, on the back of my bike when you’ve been drinking? Good thing I drove my truck tonight, which I’ll be taking you home in here in just a sec, but so help me God, Presley-”

Out of words, breath, patience, or perhaps all of the above, he’s done talking, and is so fast, I never see it coming. His mouth crashes down over mine in a kiss so intrusive and greedy… I’m gonna go ahead and consider it oral sex. He’s fucking my mouth with his.

Every last inch of my flesh draws tight under an onslaught of goose bumps, and I get embarrassingly wet… from a kiss. Seriously, I’ve owned two-headed, tri-speed vibrators that couldn’t get the job done, and here Sutton is, turning me into a needy mess with his kiss alone. His hand glides up my leg, hoisting it around his hip, and I respond instinctually — grinding, fast and crazed against him.

My body’s screaming for me to beg him to fuck me, right where we stand, damn the consequences. Which may include a public lewdness arrest, or a security camera aimed at this very spot, footage my father could review at any time. Yeah, none of those sound fun, so my mind unwelcomingly triumphs, and I jerk my leg down, body back, as I push him away, fighting for breath.

“Fuck!” he roars, clomping off in the opposite direction, both hands rubbing furiously over his beautifully shaved head. But just as fast, he turns and comes stalking back toward me, his face a tortured contradiction of lust, fury and puzzlement. “Goddammit, Presley! What did I ever do to you that was so terrible?”

“Nothing,” I choke out, hating myself for what I can clearly see I’m doing to this wonderful man, who deserves the best a woman can give him — he’s that amazing. He is. Truly. I’ve known it from the word “go,” and done everything in my power to fuck up the chances of ever being worthy to hold the spot. “Sutton,” I strive for soothing, resisting the all-but-undefeatable temptation to go to him; hold him, stroke his handsome face… surrender. “That kiss shouldn’t have happened, can’t happen again. I won’t lie and say I didn’t like it, you know I did. And I’ll spare you some lame version of the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, but that’s pretty much what it boils down to.” My laugh’s appropriately bitter, paralleling the acid churning in my stomach.

“What’s you? Can you just, for once, say what it is you fucking mean? No riddle. Code. Half-thoughts. The whole thing, and use words normal people can understand. Ya know, for someone who prides herself on being this ‘no bullshit or filter, tell it like it is’ badass, you sure as hell don’t say much of anything to me! Oh, your mouth’s constantly moving, but nothing real ever comes out. I’m done waiting. Done wondering. And definitely done with the games. You. Want. Me. Admit it. You want me so fucking bad that you hate yourself for it, because you aren’t in control. Your heart and body are, and you can’t stand it. Well guess what? I want you too! Have since before the day I really met you. You think I went to a Country concert for shits and giggles? I went because you were gonna be there. So unless you can spit out an actual reason we can’t be together in the next ten seconds, one that I’ll buy, your sweet ass is going back over my shoulder and I’m taking you home… to my bed. My life. And you can kiss my ass with all your talk about ‘disappearing!’”

Not only is his rage warranted, he was long overdue a chance to let it out, so I take it without argument or interruption. Also doesn’t hurt that it’s hot as hell — the passion and intensity in his voice, wicked eyes, the rigidity in his every bulging muscle. It’ll make for the perfect last memory of him… exactly what it’ll be.

He awaits my response, heavy breathing soundless, weighted with frustration, his eyes now a vibrant green. The hue of harmony, growth, renewal — all my intangibles.

Serene, yet laced with conviction, I finally speak. “There was already an Uber on the way, which I was willing to forget about until you mentioned ‘your bed.’ I thought accepting a ride from you wouldn’t be a big deal. I was wrong. So, back to Plan A. And I apologize, again, for… everything. I mean it, Sutton, I had no right to come crashing into your life with no warning, trying to get a job at Lit, choosing to come here instead of anywhere else tonight. I’ve been stirring up a pot of shit for you at every turn. I’ll stop, I swear. You never have to worry about another surprise from me, in any areas of your life.”

“You,” he kicks the ground, shaking his head, “you are absolutely incapable of listening when I talk, aren’t you? Nothing, you hear nothing. That, or you choose to ignore me. So save your self-sacrificing act, Presley, because the ‘falling on your sword’ bullshit only works if you take the other person’s feelings into account. This big ass body?” He slaps himself in the chest. “If you’d let yourself fall, it, I, would catch you!”

“Why?” My sincere wonderment sounds, and I cower from the noise, unable to take it back now.

A smug calmness drapes over him, his angry face softening into a smirk, eyes alive with hope, and a cool, relaxed swagger as he closes the gap between us. “Why’d you try to get a job here?” He asks in a gravelly, seductive timbre while arching one coy brow.

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