Just One Drink (98 page)

“If my memory serves me you were pretty fond of this too.” He said, hooking a finger in the collar of my shirt, drawing it down and shoving it aside to reveal my lace covered breasts. I knew what came next. It was one of my favorite things because it was one of Colt’s favorite things. I watched as he swiped his thumb across the sensitized skin, my nipple pulling tight in response, before slowly pulling down the fabric of my bra, exposing my breasts to his greedy eyes. Seeing him admire me with that hunger turned me on way more than the act itself.

Colt thumbed my erect nipple gently before taking my breast in his palm and raising it up to his waiting mouth. Desire shot straight through to my aching sex as his tongue began making a swath around my nipple. The constant rub of his thumb on my clit began to speed up and I knew this was turning him on. One more thing that I was happy hadn’t changed. Between Colt’s lips and the increased pressure on my needy clit I couldn’t sit still any longer so I closed my eyes and let my hips rock in time with his motion.

My relief was short lived when Colt stopped his torment and straightened. He gripped my hips in his hands and pulled me close to the edge of the counter. As he slipped the button of my pants free, I raised my hips to allow him to pull them down my legs. The cool bathroom air was a contrast from the warm wet of my panties, but that was quickly remedied by Colt’s rough hands on the inside of my thighs and the renewed dampness between my legs. I should feel ashamed that I craved what he was going to do next, but I just felt relief.

Perched on the edge of the counter, he spread my legs wide and leaned between them. The first stroke of his finger was gentle, a soft brush against swollen flesh, and this time I couldn’t help but let a low moan slip past my lips.

“I guess we know you still like that.” He said, pressing his finger past my folds, beginning a steady pace. His thumb pressed against my clit with every inward stroke and I buried my face in his neck, the dank smell of the barroom bathroom replaced by the scent of his skin. The want in my sex was kindled by the closeness of his body, the strong familiar hands, the connection to something
intimate
.

Hair stuck to my face, damp from my breath coming in heavy jags, when Colt pulled away from me. He kept his hands on my legs and moved lower, pausing at my chest. He tenderly licked each tight bud he found there, the heat of his mouth providing a foil to the chill in the room, before he crouched down between my wide spread legs. Colt kissed each thigh and I shivered against the touch.

The intimacy of the act, the sweet mixed with the sensual
made me feel more exposed than being stripped half naked. I held my breath as Colt moved in closer and began to lick and kiss that sweet spot. His tongue traced my slit. Once, twice. My need growing with each pass. I delved my fingers into his dark hair, fisting it in frustration. I felt the vibration of his low chuckle against my skin before Colt’s tongue finally lapped and suckled my flesh.

Tremors radiated out from my sex, building with a powerful intensity. I reveled in the waves of pleasure, letting them wash over me. Letting them wash away some of the darkness I had let seep in. I shamelessly rocked my hips into him, a silent surrender to his challenge, until my body tensed against his ceaseless efforts and I found release.

My breath came in pants. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cool mirror. My head swam and I was sure it had more to do with Colt’s head resting on my thigh than it did with the liquor. I was feeling remarkably sober right about now, in part, I suppose by having someone touch me like they knew me when I didn’t even know myself anymore. After a moment Colt stood and fixed me with that intense stare that left me just as uncomfortable as before. 

“You seem to remember quite a bit.” I said with a shy smile when the intensity threatened to become too much.

“Some things are hard to forget.”

Colt was still close to me, his eyes searching mine. My head was starting to feel too heavy to try and figure out what he was looking for. Finally pulling away, Colt turned on the tap and began cleaning up. When he was finished, I let him pull me from my spot on the counter, and with shaky hands I pulled my clothes back on.

“Come on, you lush, let’s get you home. How did you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Looks like I’ll be driving you back. We can get your car tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to take me home. I really didn’t have that much to drink.” I lied. I wasn’t able to drive, no matter how carefree I was pretending to be, but the thought of being stuck in close proximity to Colt for another excruciating 10 minutes seemed unbearable. The fact that he just went down on me in the bathroom after not talking to each other in years was beginning to sink in. Along with it came the shame, the euphoria. Things that my cloudy brain wasn’t able to process.

“Nope.” He said, ignoring my protest and leading me out of the bathroom and through to the back entrance. The thick night air stuck to me, churning my stomach, making me forget about the jagged concrete sidewalk outside the door. I stumbled into Colt and he grabbed my hand and pulled me along, cutting me a sideways glance.

“Would you believe me if I told you that wasn’t because I was drunk?”

“Nope. Now if you told me it was because you were dazed with pleasure, then maybe I would.”

I snorted. I was already regretting this.

*****

The clanging of pots jarred me awake. Remaining motionless I cracked open my eyes, surveying. I was in my bed. Not my comfy queen sized bed with the 800 thread count sheets, the lumpy twin bed that my cat had kittens on when I was 9. The sun had already gone past my window, making it close to noon. I was still dressed in last night’s clothes, and my head felt like someone was tap dancing on it. So this is what it feels like to be hung over at my age. Not a fan.

I winced as the sound of another pot clanged below me. A not-so-subtle hint from my mother. I sat up slowly and swung my legs over the edge of the bed and as I did I caught the smell of pine and sweat, the events of last night slowly unfolding in my drowsy mind. I wasn’t sure what parts were real and what was distorted by my liquor filter but I remembered the drinking, the song. I remembered Colt.

I didn’t want to know what he thought of me now. When I left after high school it was in a blaze of glory, happy to be leaving my small town life and small town rebounding boyfriend behind. Now I had returned with my tail between my legs and it looked as though Colt was making sure he got a front row seat to watch me suffer. Not only that, he was going to play dirty. I brushed away the memories of his hands, delicate on my skin. A cheap trick. If he thought I’m going to be duped he had another thing coming. I’m not a naive girl anymore. Unless I’m drinking, apparently, in which case I’m an idiot.

At least I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself anymore. Yep, feeling like a slut was much better.

I gathered my courage and stood up, ignoring the pain that shot from my left hip, most likely from my collision with the table last night. I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. I wasn’t going to give Colt Miller or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing me pine. Not anymore. Today I was going to do something with myself.

Peeling off last night’s reminder, I headed for the shower. The hot water stripped my skin of his touch and the feel of his lips that covered most of my body. I stood under the steady stream for far longer than I could have in my old apartment, reveling in all the hot water. By the time I got out I was beginning to feel like myself again.

Pairing my favorite camisole and jacket with my only pair of clean dress pants, I sat in front of my mirror, and began to carefully apply my makeup. I uncapped my eyeliner and made a plan for the day. Judging by the way my hand was shaking I would have to start with a very large cup of coffee, after which I would head over to the city to the employment office and start applying for any and every job I could. I would have to drive about 30 miles to get there, but I could use that time to figure out where I wanted to go from here. Plus a decent latte would do me some good.

I finished my makeup and started in on my hair, gathering it low in the back and twisting it into a soft bun. Giving myself a once over in the mirror I felt a hundred times better than when I woke up, minus the throbbing at my temples. I slipped on a pair of low heels and picked up my purse which had been discarded on the chair near the bed. Confirming that I had all the essentials- phone, credit card, gum- I paused. No keys.

Checking and again not seeing them in my purse I bent to search the floor. Once again coming up empty I stood and tried to retrace me steps. I remembered seeing my keys when I fished out some cash to pay at the bar, but now they’re gone. Somewhere in between there I lost my keys. The only place in between was Colt. The optimism I held for the day began to drain as realization took hold. I must have lost my keys in Colt’s truck. Shit.

I grabbed my phone and called the bar, just in case they had fallen out while I was there, but no one had seen them. My next call would have to be to Colt. The thought of seeing him again made me nervous. And angry. There was no way I could see him without a caffeine fix. I headed out of my room and down the stairs, hoping my mom had some muffins left over from her quilting meeting yesterday.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw my mom pulling a pan of scones from the oven. She set them on the counter and bustled across the kitchen to tend to something on the stove, her apron fluttering around her, her voice narrating a quiet dialogue between her and the pot. The warm smells drifted to me and my stomach rumbled its approval. Judging by all the food covering the counters I could only assume she was having company.

As she cooked I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the island. Cookies were cooling on a tray and I reached for one, mouth-watering in anticipation, when she finally turned and jumped in surprise.

“Calleigh! You gave me a heart attack. And speaking of which, you have some explaining to do about staying out so late without calling. I was really very worried about you.” She rounded the island and leaned in, her weathered cheek pressing against mine, taking the cookie out of my hand as she moved away. “And these are for our guest.”

“All of them?”

“Well you know how men eat, dear.”

That made me straighten. If my mom was having a man over for lunch it was big news, and the first I heard of it.

“You don’t have to set a place for me while you have your man friend for lunch. I was planning on heading over to the employment office. As soon as I get to meet him and get my keys I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Oh Calleigh, what are you prattling on about?” She said, waving an oven mitt in my direction. “I don’t have a man friend coming over. Colt Miller came by earlier saying something about helping you to your car. Since you were sleeping I asked if he could take a look at the garage door for me while he waited. That darn thing has been nothing but trouble”

“Colt?” At least that saved me the trouble of tracking him down to find my keys. “And so why are you cooking for him?”

“Well he was just so sweet to come over asking about you and he’s such a dear for fixing that door. And I thought it would be nice for you to catch up with him. You haven’t seen anyone since you’ve been back. I was starting to worry about you. But look at you today. All dressed up for a job.” She clapped her hands together as she looked me over with an approving eye, then turned back to check the oven.

“I’m not very interested in catching up with Colt. Or anyone.” I complained to her back, even though she was already back to talking to her casserole dish.

“Sorry, gorgeous, but I think we already did that.” Colt’s voice reverberated behind me, quiet in my ear, and I stilled in my chair. That familiar scent that I had spent 15 minutes in the shower trying to wash away was descending on me once again.

Turning back to me, my mom lit up when she noticed Colt in the kitchen. “There you are dear! Come and sit. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Nichols. I have bad news about your door, though. The pulley is shot. I’ll need to replace it.” Colt said as he eased into the chair next to mine, apparently oblivious to the daggers I was sending his way.

“Oh dear. How long will that take?”