Aligned: Volume 2 (5 page)

“That sounds like a date.”
 

“Not a date. Just two friends getting dinner and relaxing. We will get to the sex part of the night later, but you’re not ready for that yet.”
 

“Yes, I am.”
 

I laugh. “No, come.”
 

Her brow furrows as she looks at me confused but follows. “Where are we going?”
 

“To a restaurant three blocks down that sits on the beach. Are you good to walk?” I hate to ask. I know she is going to give me crap for asking if I need to help her, but to my surprise, she doesn’t chastise me.
 

“Yes, and if not, you can always carry me.” A hint of a smile returns to her lips. She doesn’t bother to hide her gaze as she stares at my muscles bulging from my t-shirt.
 

“Good, come on.” I take her hand in mine rubbing my thumb gently in circles over her palm. I watch as her lips part the slightest at my touch letting me know a small ache is growing between her legs. That is what tonight is about: driving her wild as she thinks about me and nothing else except how good it feels to be touched. I know she doesn’t want a romantic relationship again. She doesn’t want to get hurt again, which I can understand. I’m the same way, but I won’t allow her to go the rest of her life without feeling the touch of a man bringing her to orgasm. She shouldn’t deny herself that.
 

She moves with me as we walk down the sidewalk toward the restaurant. Usually, I would have taken her to the beach, but I’m not sure how she would be able to handle the sand just yet with her prosthesis. She walks confidently on hard surfaces, but I’ve never seen her try more. I try to come up with things to ask her without bringing up her past, but I come up empty. So many questions and topics lead back to her past and she doesn’t have an answer. I need to do something about that.
 

She seems content just to hold my hand as we walk. Instead of bringing up senseless topics that neither of us really cares to talk about, I focus on making that ache stronger. I lean in close and nuzzle her ear with my lips. “You look beautiful.” I kiss her softly on her neck, breathing heat before I pull myself away. A slow flush burns her cheeks, and her eyes dilate. “Thanks, but I don’t think …”
 

“Shh.” I press my fingers to her lips stopping her from disagreeing with me. She may only be dressed in a plain shirt and jeans, her hair may not be styled perfectly, and other than mascara, I don’t think she is wearing any makeup, but that doesn’t change the fact she looks beautiful. Alex is confident in her own skin, with who she is, even if she can’t see it. Yes, her leg is gone and showing, but that doesn’t stop her from living, which is the most beautiful thing about her. She may feel like she’s given up her life, but she hasn’t - she’s still living.
 

“Come on, beautiful. We’re here,” I say motioning to the Italian restaurant as she blushes brightly. I will have to say it more if I get that kind of reaction each time.
 

The staff immediately seats us at a private table in the back as I requested. I’m thankful nobody seems to recognize me as we walk quickly through the restaurant to a room with a window overlooking the ocean.
 

“Now, this really seems like a date,” Alex says as she glances around the small room. The table has a white tablecloth and simple candle, but the rest of the room is what creates the ambiance. The candlelight on our table and the few candles on the tables around the room that sit empty provide the only lighting. Red flower arrangements and rose petals are scattered throughout the room.
 

“Stop thinking. This is not a date. This is just a way to get you to relax and get in the mood. So stop thinking and just let things happen.”
 

She nods but still looks unsure as the waiter hands us the menus.
 

“What can I get you to drink?” the waiter asks.
 

I look at Alex, who has a contemplating look on her face. I suspect she’s trying to decide whether to order alcohol since she knows I won’t drink.
 

“Bring us a bottle of your best chardonnay,” I say to the waiter. Alex nods and smiles in agreement.
 

“I won’t drink a whole bottle by myself,” she says eyeing me, suggesting I should join her, but she can’t tempt me. I never break that rule. I can’t let myself go there again.
 

“What looks good?” I ask ignoring her statement.
 

She glances back at the menu looking overwhelmed at the choices, but I already know what she’s going to order. The question is why?
 

“I was thinking of trying one of the pizzas.”
 

A grin immediately spreads over my face. She notices my reaction. “What?”
 

“You just proved my theory correct.”
 

“What theory?”
 

“That you only order pizza.”
 

“I do not.” But as she says it, she realizes there is no point arguing. “How do you know that? We haven’t ever shared a meal together.”
 

“I stocked your fridge full of pizzas. I saw you at the shoot and all you ate was pizza. It was just a guess, but that’s why I brought you here. What I want to know is why?”
 

Her eyes drop to the table as she fidgets in her seat. I wait, though, not pushing her until she’s ready. “It’s the only food I know I like. I don’t remember what foods or drinks or anything I like, so I play it safe.”
 

I smile at the beautiful woman sitting in front of me, embarrassed by something that doesn’t matter, that she can’t change, and that she has no control over. The waiter returns, pouring a glass of wine for Alex, but I decline.
 

“We will have one of everything.”
 

“Yes, sir,” he says, leaving. I turn to her and her eyes grow wide in disbelief.
 

“What … why would you order that much food?”
 

“You need to try more than just pizza. You need to find what you like now.”
 

“But that’s too much.”
 

“We are splitting the bill anyway. Since this isn’t a date, I know you won’t let me pay. And I know after seeing that car of yours …”
 

“Tessie.”
 

“Yes, Tessie,” I say chuckling. “That you have more than enough money to go around.”
 

She gets the excited gleam back in her eyes, but it’s not enough. I need her begging for me to take her to a closet, a bathroom, or just take her right here because she can’t wait any longer.
 

I reach across the table, take her hand in mine, and begin the slow torture of rubbing my thumb against her palm in slow, agonizing circles. She takes a sip of her wine to distract herself from my touch, but it doesn’t do anything to cover the slow flush growing over her cheeks.
 

“How did you remember how to be a photographer? You didn’t seem to have any trouble at the shoot.”
 

She moistens her lips before answering. “Physical things I have done before seem to just automatically come back. I don’t even really think about it. It’s as if my body is on autopilot. So things I have done a million times before like using a camera, my phone, writing … it all comes back to me rather easily. I just don’t remember how I know how to do these things. I just do them.”

“Hmm.” I smirk at her deviously, not letting her eyes leave mine. “So sexual things your body remembers.”
 

She fidgets uncomfortably in her seat as she tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her. I hold her hand and her gaze. “Probably …” she says.

“But you don’t remember any specific sexual experience?”
 

“No,” she says blushing again.
 

My eyes smolder with her words, showing how much I appreciate I’ll be the only guy she remembers. Her first again. The waiter starts bringing hordes of food out to our table piling the first round of appetizers until it’s covering the table. Her eyes go wide looking at all of the food, with no idea where to start. I take my chair and slide it closer to her; she eyes me nervously as I do.
 

“So I can point out what everything is.” Also, so I can touch more than just her hand. As much as I need to drive up her desire and ache for me, I can’t bear to be across the table from her when my own desire is growing intolerable.
   

“Try the calamari.” I slide my hand around her shoulders, stroking her neck gently with my thumb. Her lips part and her eyes grow softer as I stroke her neck. I take her fork and stab a piece of calamari before brushing it over her lips. She opens, and I feed her the bite. She moans as she chews, but I don’t know if it’s from my touch or the taste of something other than pizza on her tongue.
 

“You like it?”
 

“Yes,” she says not telling me if it’s the food or my touch that she likes. I don’t move my hand from her neck as we continue to eat the array of appetizers in front of us. She tries everything, and every time, she groans as she chews. Each time her body grows warmer, and by the time the main courses appear, I think I could take her up against the wall right here, but I don’t.
 

Instead, I move my hand to her thigh. I wait as she initially pulls away from me, shocked by my touch, but within a few minutes, her legs have parted for me. I start slow just stroking her thigh as we continue to try the food, neither of us saying anything. Our sensory overdrive prevents us from needing that form of communication when our bodies are saying so much more.
 

As she takes a bite of pizza, I let my hand drift to her core. Her breath catches as I move my hand in slow, firm circles against her jeans. I can see the tingling move in every nerve ending in her body as she chews the pizza. When she stops chewing, I stop too. When she takes another bite, I start moving my hand again, begging for her juices to soak my hand against her jeans. The waiter returns as my hand stays in place rubbing harder, faster, with more urgency. She glares at me imploring me to stop in the waiter’s presence, but that just encourages me to push her further.
 

“Can I get you anything else? Dessert perhaps?” the waiter asks Alex.
 

She bites her lip to hold back a moan. She elbows me discreetly and hard in the gut. I answer the waiter. “We’ll take the check. We will get dessert at home.” I wink at Alex as I say it, but I don’t let up my sweet torture against her clit. Her body goes still, just as she did before she was ready to explode in my Porsche. I stop my hand, needing her to feel absolute torture and to ache as we make our way back to her condo.
 

The waiter leaves, and Alex slaps me across the cheek.
 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says, smiling as she says it.
 

“Yes, ma’am.” I grin wildly, loving her feisty spirit. She will be fun to control when I get her in bed.
But I don’t think she can handle being controlled.
The last time I tried to control her in the bedroom she panicked. I may have to give up control to this woman. Can I really do that?
 

“How do you feel about giving up control?”
 

Her eyes meet mine with terror at the thought. “Not good.”
 

I hate giving up control. I already feel like a puppet controlled by my music label, Drew, Caroline, and even Alex. Alex giving up control isn’t just to satisfy me, though. She needs to learn to find pleasure again, that she can experience freedom in giving up control.
 

“I think it would be good for you. You need to learn you can’t always control life. Sometimes, you just need to enjoy the chaos.”
 

She smiles shaking her head. “And you like control too? It benefits you if I give in.”
 

I smirk. “Maybe, but this is not about me. You already control me in ways you will never understand.”
 

She looks intensely at me trying to break through my walls.
 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally concedes.
 

The waiter returns with the check. I throw my credit card on the bill without glancing at the number, and she does the same. I smile as she does, enjoying the stark contrast between sharing a dinner with Alex and sharing a dinner with Caroline. Money just being a minor difference.
 

He’s back on top of me pulling my clothes off. He pulls his clothes off too. I can’t get away …

My body is tingling all over as Landon strokes my hand and leads me out of the gorgeous restaurant. The ache between my legs makes it difficult for me to move without exploding from the friction of my jeans with every step. It wouldn’t take much, just another touch of Landon’s hand to bring me there. Or maybe just a look, one glance of those smoldering golden eyes and I would explode. My heart is beating fast at the thought, and I try to slow it, but it doesn’t surrender.
 

“Beach or sidewalk?” Landon asks.
 

“Beach,” I say feeling adventurous. As much as I just want to get back to our condo as fast as possible, I’m afraid. Afraid that as soon as we go back, I’ll have another panic attack and ruin the night. Or worse, I won’t, and after we have mind-blowing sex, he’ll be gone. The ‘friendship’ he claims he wants will be nothing but a memory. Just a lie he told me to get into my pants, but that’s what I want. A man to fill my needs at night and then be gone by daybreak. No complications. No attachment. I’ll be left alone, empty, like I always wanted.
 

We reach the sand, and I feel Landon’s hand tighten on mine as I take my first hesitant step onto the sand with my prosthetic leg. I feel my leg give too much and am prepared to tumble into the sand, but Landon’s hand holds me firm, keeping me from falling. We take several steps down the beach, but I’m too exhausted and focused on every step to enjoy the beach or my time with Landon.