Holding On

ᴏɴᴇ

❇️ＺＡＩＮ❇️

I think the definition of the word 'cringy' in the dictionary should be changed to what I have in front of me. I scrunch my nose as I watch Kevin, my best friend, contort his body to swap spit with the girl on his lap.

it isn't so much the deep kissing that bothers me; it's where Kevin's hands are directed. Judging from where his hand disappears and the way the girl on his lap is squirming, it's more than obvious he's fingering her.

They don't even care that they are in a public club. A normal public club.

“You guys are gross,” I state my mind, then polish off the rest of my beer.

Kevin shoots me a glare, breaking the kiss briefly to speak. “It's not my fault you've decided to put yourself in a dry spell.”

“Yes, there are always women around here to fuck.” the girl on Kevin's lap snaps, obviously upset about her good time being interrupted.

I glare back at her. I don't like her. One, because she looks way too young to be the 20 years old she is claiming to be. Second, she is an entitled, spoiled brat. But Kevin seems whipped enough to swallow everything she says. 

Lucy, she calls herself.

“Hey, handsome.” A woman I don't know stops behind me and leans down to place her lips at my ear. “Want to buy me a drink?”

I want her closeness and that sensual voice in which she spoke to finally knock some sense into my libido. It doesn't. I sigh.

“Nah, I'm good.”

The woman hisses as if I've offended her, and I watch her stalk away toward another guy. When I focus back on my table, my best friend is giving me a pointed look.

“See?” Kevin's tone is serious. “You're really letting her mess you up bro.”

I look away, knowing that my friend is right. But I don't even want to think about the woman he is talking about. 

I call the barman to deliver another beer to me and scan the club. A live band is playing on stage, and very hot ladies are on the dance floor. 

Normally it would've been a helluva lot inviting, but for the past month, no-strings-attached sex with hot willing strangers has started to lose its appeal, and I have no one but a certain black-haired siren to blame for my lack of interest.

When my beer is delivered and uncapped, I chuck down a good amount, hoping it will relax me. I nearly sputter out my drink when my eyes encounter said siren standing at the bar, obviously ordering a drink.

Emma Taylor

Taking her drink, she waves as she approaches, and smiles in a way that makes me feel like a hunted man.

Gotcha...

That word all but blazes in that very determined look of hers, and I slowly close my eyes, my body warming with the lust I've become so familiar with.

“Shit.” I hear Kevin mutter when he notices Emma as well.

I clench my fist tightly around my bottle. Two years of not seeing each other after what she did to me, and she is back trying to pretend like nothing ever happened. 

I met her again three weeks ago, and almost immediately she asked me to be her top model for her next collection which features only men's wear.

It hadn't occurred to her that perhaps, after what she did to me two years ago, I want nothing to do with her.

I've kept on rejecting her offer, hoping that the nearing date will render her with no choice but to look for another model to be the top model of her collection.

And I thought that I managed to convince her with my refusal last night, but right now, that pointed look in her green eyes as she approaches tells me a wholly different tale.

“I knew I'd find you here,” Emma beams as she reaches our table. “Hey, Kevin.” she pulls the last chair back and takes her seat without bothering for an invite.

The teasing confident look in her eyes irks me. “How are you, my next top model?”

“In your dreams,” I mutter and drank some cold beer.

“He doesn't want to model for me," Emma intones in a mock hurt voice, looking at Lucy. “He thinks my fashion house is not good enough.”

I don't even hear what Lucy is saying. My gaze is focused on Emma. She has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, a mixture of silver and green that can hold you captive and never let go. Straight hair falls around her shoulder, shaping her oval face.

Surveying low, my eyes meet her breasts, and I can swear she's not wearing any bra. the outline of her nipples is too obvious in the dress to indicate otherwise. 

And I let my eyes linger on them. They seem small and firm, luscious breasts I have caressed, serviced, and laved to her pleasure. 

Well, that is only in my dreams anyway. Those erotic dreams that have been haunting me since I saw Emma again three weeks ago.

My hand has become my best friend in the past three weeks, but even masturbating every night doesn't do much to assuage the fire in my groin whenever she is near me. 

Feeling my groin tightening, I force myself to look away from her body, cursing softly under my breath.

“I do hope you're happy to see me.” She says, bringing her glass of one of those fancy martinis that come with an apple slice to her lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I don't believe it's a coincidence she has ended up in the same pub as me. Whatever way she managed to know where I'll be just so she can come and try to convince me again is enough to put me on alert.

Emma lets out a soft chuckle. “Uh, considering this is a pub, I guess I also came here to drink, dance, and have some fun.”

“Why are you here?” I demand, not willing to take any of her bullshit, even though I very well know why she is here.

She pulls off the slice of apple that came with her martini and places it inside her mouth, chewing slowly, taking her time to answer. her tongue emerges and sweeps over her lips, and it is like a stroke right to my dick.

 ”I came here in the hopes that you slept well enough last night to finally make the right decision.”

I snort, not certain whether to be amused or irritated. How could she even think that my mind would change overnight?

“As far as my memory can take me, nothing I said last night suggested that I would reconsider. Why don’t you back off anyways?” 

“What’s to say?” She shrugs, amusement dancing in her eyes. Then she leans forward, gazing pointedly into my eyes, “I accomplish whatever mission I set my mind to. And you, Mr. Chadwick are on the list of my accomplishments.”

My nostrils flare as a memory from two years ago flashes through my mind, doubling my resentment at the surety she feels that I'm going to give in to her wishes.

If she thinks I'm still that foolish idiot who was willing to do anything just to be with her, then she's in for a surprise. It's about time she learned what rejection means.

Her fingers run through her straight long shiny black hair, combing them away from her face, a habit of hers I find too damn sexy.

Some rebellious strands spring back into place, and my fingers itch to send them back.

Before I can go through with the urge, I grab my bottle and take a long drink of the cold beer. But I should've known that it would do nothing to quench the fire that is gradually spiralling its way lower from my chest. Settling right into my dick.

Damn it! This woman is going to be the death of me.