25
Quinn
Nola sits beside me, her arm tucked into mine, and my hand rests between her thighs. Her fingers are playing with my necklace. The medallion that hangs from the chain was a gift from my mom after she adopted me.
Tonight, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. Not only did our gig go amazingly well, but I also ran into this woman, who I’ve desperately wanted to see, but figured too much time had passed. I’m an idiot for not calling her back and putting in an effort to stay in touch. Having her pressed against me like this, it feels natural. It’s not forced or an eager attempt to get laid. Right now, I’m content with just holding her if that’s all she wants. It’s honestly not what I expect after the way I pushed her aside.
The cabbie pulls into my complex. I toss him a few twenties and take Nola by her hand, pulling her behind me. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I’ve been busy.”
I let her in, turning on the light. She stands there, looking at my bachelor pad, making me wonder what she’s thinking. Most of the stuff is new after Elle moved out, but it’s still a guy’s place. The painting on the wall is crooked; there are beer bottles on my coffee table, dirty socks on the floor and a nudie magazine sitting on the couch.
Of course, the magazine grabs her attention. “You look at this stuff?” She holds it up with two fingers as if the pages are contaminated.
“It’s not what you think.” As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. Stepping forward, I take the magazine from her and put it back in the drawer where it belongs. “A long time ago, the magazine did a spread…”
Nola raises her eyebrow at me. “Okay, wrong choice of word. They did an article on my family, like really dug deep and tried to expose the skeletons in our closets, but my dad, he turned the tables on them and the article was this masterpiece of how to achieve goals by working hard and how to survive in the industry. I was reading it before tonight’s gig, for inspiration…” I let my words trail off. I should probably order her a taxi to go home and just lose her number at this point.
“Did you play tonight?”
I nod. “Before my dad’s band. They let us open for them. That’s why the crowd was so huge tonight.”
“They’re popular.” It’s either a question or a statement, I’m not sure, which.
“Do you want to sit down, or I can order you a taxi to take you back to your place. I’m sure the magazine…”
“The magazine’s fine, just caught me off guard. Most guys I know hide them in their room.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “That’s my only one. You can look around if you want.”
“I trust you.”
She trusts me. Those words, I definitely love to hear. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’d love a beer,” she says, looking up at me. Screw beer, I want to sit down next to her and get to know her some more. However, I do as she asks and bring back two cold ones and pop the top for her. Nola takes a drink and makes the cutest and sorriest bitter beer face. “This is gross.”
“Sorry, it’s all I have.” I look down at my bottle, wondering why she doesn’t like it, especially as she asked for it. I happen to think it taste damn good.
She sets the bottle on the table and buries her face in her hands. My hand instantly goes to her back and starts rubbing. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“For what?”
Nola shakes her head, pushes her hair back and rearranges the way she’s sitting so she can face me. “I’m not a huge beer fan. I don’t know why I asked for it.”
“What do you like?”
“Wine.”
“I have wine.” I get up and grab the bottle and a glass. I’m pouring it into the glass as I walk back into the living room. “Before you ask, my sister left it the other day.” I hand her the glass of red something or other. Elle told me what it was, but I wasn’t paying any attention.
“Oh, this is good.” She takes another sip. “Shit, it’s really good. I’ve never had cranberry wine before.” Leaning forward, Nola refills her glass. “Do you want to try?” she asks as the glass is poised to touch her lips.
“Yes.” I take the glass from her, only to set it down on the table, and reach for her. She comes willingly, straddling my hips. My hand rests against her cheek and my thumb brushes lightly over her cheekbone. She turns slightly, kissing the palm of my hand. I bite my lower lip to keep some control over this situation. I want to pounce, to pick her up and carry her to my bedroom so I can devour her, make love to her until the sun comes up, but I don’t deserve her. Not after the way I treated her.
Nola grinds into me, pushing herself deeper into my groin. My response is immediate, and I let her know what she’s doing to me. Her hips start to move back and forth, creating the smallest amount of fiction, but it’s enough to send shockwaves through me.
My thumb moves over her lower lip. Her tongue darts out, wetting the pad of my skin. There’s a shift in the air, both of us know it. For me, it’s in the way she’s looking at me, with hooded eyes and a devilish smirk. “What are we doing here, Nola?”
She grinds her hips into mine. “I don’t know, but I like it.”