Filthy English (5 page)

Silence settled between us, the tension thick.

My hands shook, and I put them behind my back.

“Holy shit.” Spider’s eyes bounced from Dax’s face to mine, obviously taking in the body language between us. “Don’t stop now,” he said. “I’m dying for all the juicy bits.”

My mouth tightened. I sighed and looked at Spider. “The usual story: a freshman girl falls for the experienced fraternity boy who only wants a one-night stand.”

“That so?” Spider asked Dax, swinging his head back to him.

“That’s your version, Remi,” he said, his face inscrutable, impossible to read.

My eyes swept over the sharp contours of his face, taking in the expressive eyes I’d lost myself in three years ago; the sensual lips that had owned me. Indeed, he
was
beautiful. He was soul-wrenchingly hot, the kind of guy you’d beg to love you—only I didn’t beg anyone. I swallowed, forcing myself to look away from him. I focused on Spider. “The truth is, I was one in a long line of girls he
dated
that year. I lost count after number forty-two.”

Spider threw his head back and laughed, his spiky blue hair glinting under the lights. “Seriously? This guy? He hasn’t had a girl all summer.”

“Bloody hell, you’re exaggerating,” Dax muttered at me, a dark expression on his face. “And how would you know how many girls I was with? You spying on me?”

“Ha. As if.”

“Whatever.” His arms brushed against my chest as he went to pick up his drink on the bar.

Crap!
I was still in his lap.

I scrambled off his legs, but winced as my right foot hit the floor. My ankle. Of course, it started throbbing. I must have hurt it more than I’d realized. Welcome to my life.

Sucking in a sharp breath to hold in the pain, I limped over to my shoe, which thankfully some kind person had placed near the edge of the dance floor. Maneuvering carefully, I bent down and managed to snag it. I took the other one off and held both shoes with one hand.

“What’s wrong with your ankle?” Dax had risen up from his seat and followed me. “Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say something?”

I cut my eyes at him. “Why? Would you have been nicer?”

His lashes dropped. Opened. “I don’t wish you any pain, Remi.”

Why did his voice have to sound so concerned?

Why did he have to be hotter than summer at high noon?

Why, why, why had I kissed him?

I did not want to get sucked into his vortex again.

“I’m fine.” I hobbled back to the bar and grabbed my clutch. Mike was nowhere to be seen, so I pulled out a handful of twenty-pound notes and left them on the bar, hoping that covered the tequila and a reasonable tip, even though the guidebook had said the bartenders in London didn’t rely on tips.

I grabbed the bottle of alcohol and snuggled it close.

Dax was next to me the entire time. Watching.

“Stop hovering,” I told him.

He moved to stand in front of me, resolve written on his face. And perhaps regret. “Remi, wait. Don’t leave like this. You’re obviously hurt from falling and upset at seeing me, and I—
dammit
—the truth is I never would have kissed you the first time if I’d known it was you. For real.”

“Because I’m that awful?” Pain swirled in my chest. He’d never wanted me the way I’d wanted him.

“No. Because I wouldn’t want to trick you.” He sighed and held his hands out. “Look, everything else aside, I’m a gentleman, whether you believe it or not. My mum taught me to make sure a lady gets home and that she’s safe. At least let me call you a cab or grab Hartford. Is he here somewhere?” He pulled out his cell.

I propped myself against the bar to take the pressure off my foot. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” His brow wrinkled.

I bit my lip and stared at the floor, feeling that familiar embarrassment I’d experienced since I’d had to explain to people that Hartford had changed his mind about getting married.

“What am I missing?” His voice had lowered. Grown intense. Narrowed eyes flicked down to my bare finger again. “Why aren’t you wearing your engagement ring? Did he hurt you?” He took a step in closer, his hand tentatively reaching for mine but then dropping to rest by his side when I pulled away.

“No, it’s not like that.” I straightened my spine, tired of being sad about Hartford. “He—he—dumped me two weeks before the wedding. He said he needed some time to clear his head—a break.” I laughed, but it wasn’t real. “And we all know what a break means, right?”

His eyes widened, and maybe I saw sympathy there, but I ignored it. I didn’t want his pity.

“Since the honeymoon was nonrefundable, I came here with Lulu, mostly to get away from the stares and my mom.” I paused, letting it all come out. “Now I don’t even have a place to live. And then there’s my autistic brother, Malcolm—I help take care of him part-time, and I don’t want to even think about my classes this fall or applying to graduate school. I
had
a great plan, you know
—the
plan. Marry a responsible, nice guy, get my doctorate, discover a new bird species, take care of Malcolm, have four kids, but guess what? My plan is shit. My goals are shit. Even my back-up plan sucks. It’s flawed because the perfect guy decided
I’m
not the perfect choice for him.” My voice cracked, but I yanked it back.

“Where’s Lulu?” His voice was gentle, surprising me.

“She’s having a great time—like I should be. Instead of my honeymoon, I’m in some skanky, mask-wearing club where even the walls probably have a venereal disease. I’m supposed to be taking romantic walks in Hyde Park—or at least having incredible sex.”

“I’m sorry, Remi.”

I cupped my cheeks, feeling the hotness. “I don’t even know why I’m babbling about this to you. We don’t even like each other. Please move out of my way.”

“No.”

“Yes,” I snapped and pushed against the brick wall of his chest to get him out of my path. He didn’t budge.

“I’m not bloody leaving you.”

“You’re freaking bossy,” I bit out.

“You liked it once.” A shadow crossed his face.

I had. I’d loved giving control over to someone.
I’m yours, Dax. Do what you want.

I pivoted to go the other way, the sudden movement causing red-hot pain to ricochet around my ankle. “Ouchhhh!” I hopped on one foot and clutched the side of the bar so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face.

“Christ, you can barely walk,” Dax huffed in exasperation, as strong forearms went under my legs and he swept me off my feet, hefting me up.

“What are you doing?” I cried, struggling to juggle my bag, shoes, and tequila as he lifted me.

“Carrying you.”

“Put me down,” I said breathlessly. His closeness was wreaking havoc with my earlier anger.

He shook his head. “I’m starting to think you planned all this just so you could hang out with me.”

“In your dreams.”

Moments of heavy silence passed as he stared down at me.

“What?” I glared at him.

He ignored my glare, a weird expression on his face. “I’ve had a few dreams about you,” he said.

“Nightmares?” I said smartly, but the butterflies in my stomach went crazy at the thought of him thinking about me. I shot them down one by one.

He continued. “There’s one where you’re wearing this mermaid costume, only you have human legs and copper-red hair. Of course, I’m riding on a kick-ass stallion as I chase you down the beach. You’re screaming bloody murder—‘
help me, help me’—
but you have a gleam in your eyes . . . you want me to catch you. I put you on my horse and carry you to my cave where you scream my name at least a hundred times. In ecstasy.”

My mouth had fallen open during his vivid, detailed description. “You dreamed about
me
as Ariel?”

“Who?”

“
The Little Mermaid—
the Disney movie?”

“I don’t watch Disney.”

I blinked. “You’re just messing with me, right?” Because that wouldn’t make sense. Why would he even
think
about me, much less dream about me? He’d forgotten about me as soon as the next girl had hopped in his bed.

He didn’t answer me, his legs moving through the crowd.

People scurried out of our way as he barreled through them, a hard look on his face. Using broad shoulders, he maneuvered his way to the stairs at the back left of the club. No one looked remotely surprised to see a man carrying a woman around the dark club. Another strike against this place.

I looked over his shoulder to see Spider following behind us, a smirk on his face. He seemed vaguely familiar, but at this point, I didn’t care who he was. The most important thing in my head was the fact that Dax Blay was carting me around like a sack of potatoes. And I kinda liked it.

Straining, I squirmed to not rest against his magnificent chest, but in the end I gave in to the comfort of his hold and rested my cheek against him. My one free hand encircled his bicep to hang on, and his eyes looked down at me, a questioning look on his face. His expression softened, making my pulse skip a beat.

God.
What was it about him that made me so weak?

The answer was simple: Dax Blay was my Achilles heel, my one vulnerability.

“Don’t think that things are okay just because you’re helping me.”

His quicksilver eyes hardened. “I get it, Remi. You hate me. I’m a no-good irresponsible bastard.”

His words sliced me open, carving into my heart and digging deep, bringing back memories better left unspoken.

I crushed those feelings down.
Hard.

“I—I don’t hate you. I could never in a million years hate you,” I whispered.

His eyes flicked to mine. Searching. He exhaled and tore his away. “Yeah? Well, you got a funny way of showing it.”

I bit down on my lips to keep the words in my heart from spilling out.

You can’t hate the first boy you ever loved.

LIFE HAD JUST
bitch-slapped me right across the face with the coincidence of a lifetime.

Out of all the clubs in London, why did she have to waltz into mine?

More importantly, why hadn’t I realized it was
her
before we’d gotten to the kiss? Perhaps a small part of me had; the romantic side no one ever saw.

You can’t have her,
I reminded myself.

She’s off limits.

I stomped up the stairs, club-goers pressing themselves against the railing to get out of our way. I was pissed off. No, scratch that. I was incensed, emotions clamoring all over the place, up and down and sideways, ramped up high enough to slam into anyone that got in my way.

She relaxed grudgingly as I carried her up the stairs, her reticence almost tangible, a shadow of hurt in her sapphire eyes. I didn’t think that pain was from seeing me. I grunted. That thought was completely laughable.

She lowered her eyes, hiding from me, but I could see that her emotions, like mine, were all over the place. I suspected it had nothing to do with our kiss and everything to do with her missing fiancé.

Thinking of her getting shafted at the altar by Hartford made me ballistic.

But
why
was I revved up like an Indy racecar? Me—the cool guy who never looked back at the girls he’d conquered.

Because
Remi Montague
, that’s why; the one girl who’d blown my mind—and scared the shit out of me—when I was just a sophomore at nineteen.

She let out a gasp.

I paused. “Your ankle? You okay?”

She nodded, that wounded gaze hitting me again, her full lips still swollen from my kisses.

I tore my eyes off her face, but it didn’t stop the memories from crashing down.

We began at the start of her freshman year when she showed up for a party at the Tau house on a Friday night and, like a magnet, my eyes had been drawn to her.

She hadn’t been my type at all with her prim sweater and innocent blue eyes.

Usually I went for the sorority girls who knew my game—females with plenty of daddy’s money and blasé attitudes about sex. But Remi; there was something about her that sucked me in—even though she was shy, had a brain like Einstein, and dressed like she was headed to a PTA meeting.