The Position (8 page)

“You’re going to get us kicked out of here!”
 

Travis flops down on the bed with a mischievous grin. “We’re customers! We have to try the things out, right?” He crawls over to where I’m lying and throws one of his arms over me. “Do you think anyone has ever
really
tried it out?” He playfully throws a leg over my body, trapping me.
 

I can’t help but giggle. “You are insane!”
 

Then he throws himself completely on top of me and straightens his arms, like we’re about to have sex. Travis looks down at me with an impish grin. “How else are people going to know whether or not they like a bed?”
 

“Maybe they’re thinking more about sleeping on it, you little horn dog.”
 

I’m strangely paralyzed. Just feeling the weight of his body on me awakens my own. I can feel his hardness pressed right on my core and it stokes up the unsatisfied fire that Lazarus started there. Without even thinking, I find myself rocking my pelvis lightly against it. When I tilt up and my flaming center strokes against his bulge, Travis flutters his lids with surprise and his blue eyes go slate gray.

“Jesus, Mickey,” he breathes.

I immediately stop. But it’s too late. Travis increases the pressure against me and lets out a loud exhalation.
 

“Okay, let’s stop,” I mutter. But Travis just closes his eyes, as if lost in his head, savoring the sensation.

I glance over his shoulder to check for stroppy salespeople. There are only two customers nearby, a man and a woman standing amidst obscenely priced dining room sets just beyond the mattress section. I freeze. It’s Lazarus and Celestina. Celestina is chattering on, running one hand along the surface of a long, smooth plank table and gesticulating with the other. She’s oblivious to everything around her.
 

Lazarus’s blazing eyes are on Travis and me.
 

“Get off,” I grumble under my breath, pushing Travis off.

 
He rolls onto his back and bends his knees to hide the obvious erection. He doesn’t bother to look around. Instead he just lies there with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and trying to cool down. “Somebody coming?” he mutters.

“Yeah.”
 

I sit up and nervously comb my fingers through my messy hair. Lazarus stands there frozen and I wonder how long he’s been watching us. His expression is dark, his eyes fiery. Even from far away I can see his jaw working like crazy. His eyes shift to Travis and I can almost see the phosphorescent glow of jealousy coming from inside him. I look down at Travis, but he keeps his eyes closed. He looks almost blissful.
 

I fight the instinct to feel ashamed. What the hell does Lazarus care if I’m fooling around with some guy? He has no claims on me. In fact, I revealed my naked heart to him and he rejected me. Who does he think he is? For a second I consider actually kissing Travis out of sheer defiance against Lazarus. But Travis isn’t some pawn in a game. He’s my friend.
 

Celestina moves farther away and calls out to Lazarus irritably. But he holds my eyes. As always, electricity sizzles through me, even though I try to ignore it. It surges through my every nerve, burning my insides until I feel sweat drops form on my skin. My core is throbbing. I hold my breath and squeeze my legs together with shudder. Why does he do this to me? How the hell am I supposed to move on when this man can set my body alight with a look?
   

Lazarus breaks the gaze. He turns his back and slowly makes his way after Celestina. I watch him intently, my throat tight, tears burning behind my eyes. Why can’t I just forget about him? I stand up, desperate to leave before the emptiness closes in.

Travis sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. He clasps his hands, letting them hang in his lap, and gives me an uncertain, sidelong glance. He looks hopeful. “So, now what?”
 

It’s hard to know whether he’s talking about where we should go or what we should do now that this weird thing has just happened. I watch Lazarus and Celestina make their way to the exit. Celestina drapes herself around Lazaurs as they leave the store. My heart is still racing and I can feel it pounding at the base of my throat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything anymore. I shrug.
 

“I’ll tell you what now. I’m taking you to lunch. And we’re drinking champagne.”

Chapter Fourteen

Travis practically drags me down the street to a very upscale looking bistro with Parisian café tables lined up along the sidewalk. It’s packed with a weekend lunch crowd and the atmosphere is lively. As we get closer, I see a gorgeous couple sitting at a window table overlooking the patio. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Lazarus and Celestina. Again.
 

“Let’s get out of Cherry Creek,” I mutter. “It’s annoying and expensive.”
 

Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the entrance. “End of conversation. I’m buying you a nice lunch so that you can buy me an even better one next time.”
 

I relent before people start looking at us. The second we step through the door, my body tenses. The whole place smells amazing; like roast garlic and fresh herbs. But I’m too distracted to enjoy it. If only I could flip a switch and turn off the emotions that flood through me every single day when I think of him.
 

I flick my eyes to Lazarus and Celestina’s table, but they don’t notice us come in. When the hostess asks us if we’d like to sit inside or outside, I blurt, “Outside!” I almost immediately regret it when she grabs two menus and leads us to the table directly next to the window where Lazarus and Celestina are sitting.
 

Are you kidding me with this?
Travis pulls out my chair and, not wanting to make a scene, I sit down. Now I’m facing Lazarus as if we were dining together, but for the glass window between us. The first thing I notice is how unhappy he looks. He doesn’t seem like a millionaire architect out for a weekend lunch with his stunningly beautiful fiancée. Instead he has the somber, flat expression of a prisoner of war.
 

His eyes flick distractedly in my direction, and then freeze on me. I force myself not to look back.
 

“Can we get a bottle of champagne?” Travis smugly asks the waitress, enjoying his high roller moment.
 

She brightens immediately, and I can practically see the dollar signs in her eyes. “Oh, of course! What’s the occasion?”
 

“My brilliant friend here has landed herself the job of the century,” Travis brags, making me blush. “Not that she doesn’t deserve champagne just for being amazing. She’s very amazing.”
 

He gives me a sheepdog grin. I laugh and roll my eyes. I can feel Lazarus burning a hole through me with his gaze, but I keep my eyes on Travis. I grab one of his hands and give it a squeeze.
 

“Thanks, Trav,” I says with genuine gratitude. “I seriously couldn’t have done it without you. But you know that.”
 

This time it’s Travis who blushes. He looks down at the table and pushes a hand through his thick black curls.
 

“The Two Musketeers!” he laughs. Then he looks up at me. “You know I’d do anything for you, right Mickey?”
 

I feel a sense of dread creep into the pit of my stomach, like he’s about to uncork the bottle and let the cursed genie out. And once that fucker is out, there’s no getting him back in.
 

“Sure. You’re my best friend.”
 

Travis glances around at the busy scene bustling past our table and I realize that he’s nervous. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a long time, actually, Mick. But I couldn’t figure out how to say it.”
 

The bus boy arrives with a tray of water glasses and small, white dishes of lemon slices. Travis falls silent, waiting for privacy. I take the moment to jump to my feet.
 

“I’ll be right back,” I stammer. “Bathroom.”
 

I hurry away before he has the chance to respond. How many times have I wished Travis would say what I suspect he’s about to say? In my geekiest moments, what I wouldn’t have given for the chance to bed the guy whose standards of female beauty were far beyond anything I could ever hope to be. Yet now I feel like running away as far as my heeled boots will take me.
 

Scurrying inside, I find my way down a ridiculously long hall and up a flight of stairs to the bathroom. Inside, the sinks are gilded rimmed porcelain and the stalls towering, narrow doors of polished wood. A mirror runs across the opposite wall, where there’s also a counter and several soft furnished stools. I sit down and face my reflection. As always these days, it’s a stranger who stares back.
 

Was life harder or easier before my grand renovation? If I’d never tried to make myself pretty, everything would still be simple. But as I stare at my lost, pale green eyes, I remind myself that Travis told Liz he’s felt this way for a long time. Travis loves me for who I am. Even Lazarus liked the old me. But it’s outward beauty that men clearly can’t resist. And it complicates everything.

I stand up and pace around the empty room, thinking about what to say. But nothing comes to mind. Just grow up and face it, I tell myself. Be honest. It’ll be okay. But I still have the terrible feeling I’m about to lose my best friend. I take a deep breath and walk out the door.
 

The second I step into the hall, someone grabs me from behind. I gasp and my body springs to life, ready to fight. A large hand covers my mouth and strong arms pin my arms to my sides. My body hums with adrenaline. I turn my head, straining to see the man’s face.
 

It’s Lazarus. His amber eyes are wild. He throws open a nearby door and pulls me inside.

The Position Series

The Position
unfolds over the course of multiple short novels following the exploits of Michaela Clark and Jude Lazarus. There will be five books in all.
 

For more information and to sign up for email announcements about the launch of The Position 3, go to
www.sexynewadultromancestories.com.
 

Turn the page to check out a free sample of Izzy Mason’s free standing novella,
Plata
.
 

Plata

Chapter 1

The club was dark and lined with mirrors. Colored lights flashed on a long, narrow stage, where a chubby woman with thick, black hair was grinding against a pole. The air was thick with cologne. Mexican strippers in short dresses were scattered throughout the crowded room, draped flirtatiously over men’s laps, skirts hitched to mid-thigh, fishing for cash. Along a velvet covered bench at the back of the room, a fleshy bleach blond in a tiny red thong was sitting on a mustached man’s lap, riding him like a rodeo horse as he squeezed her breasts and nodded his head to the thumping bass of the music.
 

Madison had never been in a strip club before. And why would she? They were places that existed in the exclusive netherworld of men, along with brothels and pornography. She was only nineteen, after all, and sex was still relatively new to her. Still she had to admit, it was something she found deliriously thrilling. But there was sex, and then there was
this
: a sordid display of desperate libidos, so drunk with lust that they didn’t care who saw them doing what, which embarrassed her immediately.
 

She looked at Enzo and furrowed her brow. “You’re serious?” she said in Spanish, which was the only language they ever spoke to each other. After all, Enzo’s English was terrible, and Madison’s Spanish was flawless.

Enzo was wearing one of his casual-chic tee shirts tailored to flatter his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and she could see a lot of the dancers watching him hopefully. He put an arm around her shoulders and gazed slowly around the room, an amused half-smile on his face.
 

“Just for a week,” he assured her. “Para quitarte la pena. To get rid of the shame.”
 

Madison coming to Mexico City was Enzo’s idea. He knew what it was like to be desperate for money, and he had no patience for preciousness. Life is about sacrifice, he always told her. The world is indifferent, and no one owes you a thing. If there’s one thing you need to remember, he’d say, it’s that you make your own luck.
 

Madison looked around the room at the Mexican cowboys grabbing the strippers and licking their breasts, sometimes even biting them. Her hands went unconsciously to her own breasts in sympathy. She wondered how they would taste after being sampled by every slobbering, peanut-flecked mouth in the place. Howdy, stranger! Suck this lollipop and pass it on down! She stifled a shiver of disgust. This was not the kind of place where shame was taken away. Here shame shacked up in your bones and hung out for the rest of your life.
 

The woman on the stage called down to Enzo with a flirtatious wave. She pushed her tongue against her teeth and made porn star lips, the way most girls do privately in the bathroom mirror. Enzo blew the woman an effete kiss, and winked. It was stifling and airless, and Madison could feel her glasses sliding down her nose. She leaned into Enzo so that their shoulders pressed together. His body felt cool through his jacket, as if the suffocating heat of the place couldn’t reach him. Enzo was absolutely at home anywhere, from an embassy party to a seedy strip club. The world was his oyster.
 

Enzo was Madison’s best friend. He was a gay dancer from Cuba she’d met while spending a year in Mexico. She’d been studying Spanish at a private Mexico City high school that did a foreign exchange with her public school in Denver, and Enzo’s dance troupe once came to their auditorium to perform. Even though Enzo was two years older than Madison, they’d hit it off immediately. And because he’d already been in Mexico for two years, he drove her around to all the social hot spots where even minors could get a drink. Since then, his career had taken off, and he was now frequently cast in music videos, commercials, and as backup for famous Mexican pop stars.