Page 25 of Deny Me

Nine

Jack and Luhad chosen a quick one-hour dinner with cake and a dance on a secluded stone patio below one of the restaurants. Not surprisingly, the happy couple ditched the reception fifteen minutes early, wanting to get back to their room to celebrate.

The staff cleaned up as everyone else dissipated. Jameson walked next to me with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and sleeves rolled up, exposing his thick forearms. Looking over, I took him in as we approached the stairs leading back to the path to our rooms. I wasn’t ready for the night to end. I had had a whole rainbow of emotions running through me after watching my best friend get married and I didn’t want to go back to my room. So, on a whim, I blurted, “Let’s go get a drink. I’m wired and it’s Saturday night in Jamaica. Let’s check out one of the bars.”

He stopped next to me and turned his head, eyebrow raised in question. I was sure he was going to turn me down. It was Jameson; he never did spur of the moment things, and he sure as hell didn’t do them with me. Disappointment sank to my stomach, preparing for the rejection.

“Sure.”

My head snapped up with wide eyes, shocked that he’d said yes. I was frozen for a minute as I processed that I hadn’t just made up what I wanted to hear. “Yeah?”

“What? Did you already change your mind? Or was it a pity invite?” he asked, gruffly.

I shook my head at the thought of ever giving Jameson anything in pity. “Jameson, all my invites are serious.”

His dark blue eyes shined in the glow of the tiki torches along the path, watching me, letting my words process. He just shook his head and started walking. “Come on, Evelyn. Before I change my mind.”

We walked along the jungle-lined path in silence, with only the song of the cicadas around us. The sound of trumpets and drums became louder and louder as we got closer to the bar. Rounding the corner, we saw the packed open bar with a thatched roof. The bar was open all around and had limited high-top tables that were surrounded by a simple wooden fence dividing it from the uncovered area beyond, where people danced and a band was set up, playing loud ska music.

The tiki torches and stringed lights lit up the area, and couples laughed and danced together. It was exactly how I wanted to finish my night. Surrounded by laughter and fun and experiencing an atmosphere I may never get to again. I turned to watch Jameson assessing the crowd. Deciding not to wait for him to make a decision about what to do next, I grabbed his hand and tugged him to the bar. “First drink is on me!” I called out over my shoulder.

Apparently, Jameson was just as ready to let loose as I was, because within the hour we had downed about six shots and a coconut filled with some delicious alcoholic concoction. I, of course, made fun of a big, tall Jameson drinking a fruity drink out of a coconut with a pink umbrella.

I could tell the alcohol was getting to him, because his cheeks were ruddy and he smiled a lot. Jameson always loosened the reins on his tight control when he drank. Not that it happened often. But tonight, we were laughing so much my cheeks were cramping as we relived stories and jokes we played.

“Remember that time you hated the guy I brought to King’s? You kept messing up his drink, giving him some nasty-ass pink concoction.” I leaned on the tall table and laughed.

“God, that guy was a dick.” He rolled his eyes. “He kept molesting you. He needed to be taken down a peg. It wasn’t my fault he was so offended by a pink drink,” he grumbled, curling his lip in disgust.

“Hey, I wanted to be molested,” I protested.

“Yeah, but did you want to be molested while he ogled Luella over your shoulder?”

“Ew. Yeah. I remember that now.” I cringed, remembering how sleazy that guy was with his overpowering, nasty cologne. “But then you played my hero and danced with me.” Resting my chin on my hand, I batted my eyes in adoration.

“Yeah. Lucky me,” he deadpanned. “All of a sudden, I was the one being molested.”

I slapped his arm. “Oh, you loved it.”

Throwing my arm up, I called one of the servers over. “One more shot, then we’re going to dance!” I waggled my eyebrows and his head fell back, looking up at the stars shining in the night sky. “Don’t act like that. You love dancing with me.”

“How about you dance, and I stay here to hold our table?” he asked hopefully.

“I mean, if watching is your thing, Jamie-Boy, then I’m always up for putting on a show.” I shimmied with a knowing grin. His eyes dropped to my breasts barely contained in the deep cut of the dress. His jaw ticked and his broad chest rose on a deep inhale. When he finally lifted his eyes up to mine, I gave him a knowing smile and grabbed the shot glass our waitress had placed on table. Without moving my eyes from his, I downed the shot and backed away to the dance floor.

The trumpets blared loudly with the bass guitar to create a fast rhythm that had me jumping up and down to the beat. I closed my eyes and got lost in sounds vibrating through my body. I didn’t acknowledge the other people around me. I closed them off and swirled my hips, moving down and back up. I twirled one more time as the song bled into the next one.

Opening my eyes, they immediately locked on Jameson’s. He stood against the table, watching me move. Even from a distance I could feel his eyes skimming over my body as he gripped the table, his forearms straining. Almost as though he was dragging his hands along the moisture building on my skin in the humidity of the night.

I reached my hand out and curled my finger, inviting him to come dance with me. To come take what he so clearly wanted. We had been drinking and laughing all night, but the way he stared at me now hinted at a major change waiting to happen. Jameson and I were standing on the precipice of a decision, and I was going to do all I could to make him fall into me.

Staring him down, I exposed my leg by hiking up the slit in my dress to show more of my thigh, still gyrating my hips to the slower classic reggae song. He let go of the table and stalked his way toward me. The closer he got the hotter I burned under his gaze. I moved my hands up my body slowly to the deep bass in the music and caressed my breasts on the way up to my hair where I lifted it off my neck and rolled my body around, giving him a view of my ass.

When I turned back around he was there, gripping my hips. I let a glint of victory show in my eyes. “Why deny me, Jameson?” I slid my hands up his chest to his shoulders, curling my fingers around his neck and into his hair. “You know I always win.”

He didn’t respond, but I felt his laugh breathe out from between his lips across my face. He didn’t need to say anything. He let me know he was in control when he jerked my hips into contact with his where I surprisingly felt his hardness against me. He smirked when my eyes widened.

I didn’t let the shock last long and fell into the most recent game we had played: sexual chicken. While I had been teasing Jameson for years with my sexuality, he had just started playing back, but I designed the rules for this game and he wouldn’t beat me at it. I brushed my hips back and forth across him and pulled his head down so I could whisper in his ear. “You know, Jamie-Boy. We could always have a good time in Jamaica.”

---