Page 46 of Beautifully Used
“Ha. Well, what else is new? Rufus is always like that.”
“That he is.”
After the run on the beach, I felt a little of the stress I’d been harboring flow from my shoulders. Holding Gabrielle throughout the night had been the most wonderful thing in the world, but sleeping was not easy to do with her luscious body so close to mine. I’d lain awake most of the night, my arm draped around her midsection, dreaming about what her skin would feel like underneath the thin cotton tank top she wore.
Practice with the band went fairly smoothly considering the nervous anxiety we all felt. We all knew what this gig meant. If they liked us, we’d get more chances to perform down here. Playing in a small town where we lived didn’t get much exposure. We were lucky that Piper Smith, the event planner, had ventured into our bar that night a few weeks ago when we’d just happened to have the best night in a long time. Excitement was in the air, as we were all hoping to meet the infamous Gerard Butler.
Nerves rattled, but we all managed to hold it together when he greeted us at the door. He even helped us set up. Nobody, not even Lena, had any trouble singing with him, and it was amazing how relaxed he made us all feel. He sang a few songs with us, then excused himself and re-joined his party.
The next day, I received a call from Doc. He told me that he’d run into Jeff at CVS that morning. The guy’d had a black eye and seemed to go out of his way to avoid letting Doc notice him. Every time Doc strolled down an aisle Jeff was in, Jeff would nonchalantly turn as though he didn’t see him and leave the aisle. He finally caught up with him at the register. Doc said he asked him what had happened to his eye, but Jeff had waved it off with a laugh and told him he’d been wrestling with his dog and the big lug’s head caught him in the eye. Doc admitted it was a good and believable story, considering the dog was right outside the store’s sliding doors, waiting for Jeff. A big dog, too. Maybe a Great Dane. Doc had only been guessing on the breed since he didn’t know much about dogs. Knowing Jeff was still up in Turtle Lake gave Gabrielle a little reprieve. I had to wonder why Jeff had even bothered to call and harass her in the first place. Was he still pissed off that she’d fought him and tried to get him convicted for assault and attempted rape? She’d had every right, but she hadn’t gotten full satisfaction of having him put in jail thanks to the little filly that’d lied for him.
Chapter 36
Gabrielle
* * *
I opened my eyes to see telephone pole after telephone pole whiz by the window in the passenger seat of the SUV. The view outside as we headed north consisted mostly of farmland with a few mountains in the distance. Not great for sightseeing. Glancing at the time on the dashboard, I realized I’d been sleeping for three hours. We’d spent an extra day in Malibu, taking in some of the sights. We’d partied in downtown Santa Monica, visiting several bars. Brodie and Jackson had said they wanted to check some of them out, just to see what they had going on. “For ideas,” Brodie had said, but we all knew it was more for just having a good time.
We pulled into the driveway a little after nine in the evening. Jackson and Lena dropped us off, and we dragged our bags and our tired, limp bodies into the house. I was glad to be home. I loved the beach, I missed the beach, but nothing beat the feel and smell of your own bed. I stood in my bedroom, my bags in my hands, and stared at the bed. Would Brodie join me in it? Or would I join him in his? Maybe neither. For the past three nights, Brodie and I had shared a bed. That’s all we’d shared, though. Well, except for a lot of really hot kisses. But Brodie’d never made any move to go any further than kissing. I sort of wanted to change that.
You’re a slut, after all.
The words reverberated in my mind over and over until I couldn’t see anything except Jeff’s mocking face—laughing, his finger pointed accusingly at me. A loud bang startled me, and I realized the noise was the bags hitting the floor after I’d unconsciously let them slip from my grasp.
How had Jeff known that Brodie and I had been kissing?
Brodie came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Hey,” he whispered in my ear. “How are you?”
I turned to face him and put my arms around his middle, linking my hands behind him, mimicking him. “I’m okay,” I lied.
He glanced at my bed. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I’m tired. How about you?”
“Yeah. Me, too. Long drive.” Say you’ll stay, the little voice in my head begged. I knew I had no right to think that what had happened in Malibu would have any bearing on our living situation here, but I had high hopes.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll call it a night. I have some stuff to do in the morning. I need to get to the bar and make sure everything ran smoothly while we were away,” Brodie said, and my hopes of having another bliss-filled sleep were shattered as sharply as a pane of glass hit by a hammer.
I didn’t think I could stand being alone with my own thoughts tormenting me, but I didn’t want to appear as needy or desperate as I felt, so I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I have some stuff to do, too.” At the moment though, I couldn’t think what any of them were. Regardless of the fear of the phone call, all I could think about was Brodie pulling my top off or yanking my shorts down and his big, strong hands voraciously roaming over my body. I’d never thought of myself as a slut, particularly since I’d really never officially been with anyone. Officially.
It’s funny. When Brodie and I were in Malibu and sort of forced into sharing a bed, those thoughts hadn’t really entered my mind. I mean, I thought about doing more than just kissing, but this sudden burst of lust seemed to come out of nowhere. It was almost as if my bed was telling me to jump into it and bring Brodie with me. I wanted to squelch the stupid voice in my head that kept telling me I was a slut. Was I a slut because I liked Brodie? Because I wanted his hands on me? I shook the thought away, reminding myself how the claim was unjustified, and most likely prompted by jealousy given the source.
Brodie kissed me on the forehead, released his hold on me, and turned to leave the room but stopped in the middle of the doorway. He stood there for a few seconds, facing the hallway, his hand propped up on the wood jamb and his head lowered. I stood rigid as a pole, my feet planted in between my suitcases—afraid to take a breath, watching him, waiting for him to leave.
He didn’t leave. Instead, he turned around, pulled me against him, and with great precision, planted his lips on mine. He wrapped one arm around my waist, tangling the other in the long strands of my hair that hung loosely down my back. He tugged at it slightly. And I liked it. I moaned into his mouth as the kiss intensified and grew urgent. My body involuntarily arched into him, aching with desire for him, and I lifted my right leg, wrapping it around both of his. He let go of my hair and grabbed my leg, hoisting me up, and all I could do was hang on and wrap my other leg around him, too.
He stepped closer to the bed and slowly lowered me onto it, positioning his body so he hovered a few inches above me, his hands on either side of my head. He swiped a stray strand of hair from my cheek then kissed me again. The way his tongue explored my mouth was so passionate and urgent. He hadn’t kissed me this way before. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to feel. I needed to know what it was like to feel this way when I actually wanted it to happen.
His tongue glided down my neck from the bottom of my ear. I shivered at the sensation. I ached for him to touch me. To touch me in places I’d never been touched before, but at the same time I was scared. Would he be able to tell? What if I sank back into that place I’d gone before?
I must have closed my eyes at some point.
“Gabrielle, open your eyes,” Brodie whispered softly against my neck.
I did, amazed at the intense pressure my eyelids had held against my sockets. I must have been squeezing my eyes shut. When I opened them, I realized I had my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I looked up to see Brodie’s beautiful green eyes, the green so light they looked almost silver. “Don’t,” he whispered, placing his hand on my wrist he unlocked my hands, pulling my arms away from my chest. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
