“Hey yourself,” I murmured into his ear. Landon reached around and slapped me lightly, on the ass. I squeaked; he laughed. It was like our first meeting. I thought of the slick ice cube, chilling me down my spine. His impish face.
Fireflies began to glow around us in the lot, and the humidity had lifted with the setting sun. Landon flicked his head in the direction of Derby's entrance and raised his eyebrows. I fell into timid step behind him, and reached for his hand. I'm not sure this is a good idea, I was going to say. I think we need to take a step back and really...
Oh boy.
As I'd predicted from the lot, Derby's was pretty much empty. Blaine was bent low over the far end of the bar, playing quarters with an older dude in a flannel t-shirt. He looked like one of Carson's hippie friends. I let Landon grab us two Coors and lead me to a small cocktail table at the lip of the karaoke stage. The machines weren't turned on tonight. A thin riff of a honky-tonk song came in over the PA, but it wasn't loud enough to cover the few other conversations rattling around us.
For a second, we both eavesdropped on the motley, weekday UT crowd. In one far corner, two women bent their heads low in serious conversation. I saw that their fingers were entwined, and they kept gazing sweetly at one another. Love, I thought, suddenly. That's what it looks like. That's what he and I must look like. I yanked my gaze away before the couple caught me throwing them a doofy smile. I had the insane urge to stand up and wave at them, let them know I was in their little club, too.
Meanwhile, Landon was gazing at me. If anyone had been watching us in the darkness, I figured we would have looked like a perfectly normal couple having a perfectly normal evening. If only.
“Listen,” he began—then started chewing his lip. I realized then that he was as agitated as I was. “Baby. I've been thinking, these past few days. Seriously thinking.”
“About what? Is everything okay?”
“Well, not really. That's the thing. I'm just thinking about my Dad. And your Mom. And the football team, stupidly enough.” His brow was scrunched, in that half-endearing, half-scary way I recalled from the time he'd caught me snooping around in his room. I reached under the table and began to rub his knee.
“I think I know what you're going to say.”
“Really?!”
“I mean, I've been thinking about all that crap, too. Of course I have.” Oh, God. It was happening so fast. It was so easy, so obvious. We couldn't be together—there was too much shit in the way. And he agreed. Of course he agreed. We'd just been living on borrowed time. The silence that fell between us felt limp, hopeless. I felt my throat begin to close up. Don't cry, Ashleigh. Don't cry. Fuck. It was too late.
“But—I mean, it's just not fair!” I blurted. “I really like you, Landon. I mean, don't you like me? This is so good.”
He lifted his big hand off the table and gently cradled my face. His thumb brushed a tear aside.
“It is so good.” He held me there. I waited for the inevitable “but...”—but Landon's lips stayed closed. Across the room, the girls had started making out. Landon's eyes were taking on the intense character they assumed when we made love. I watched his chest begin to rise and fall in rapid motion. I felt my own pulse speed up, blood in my body seeming to spread and agitate under the scope of his hand, where his skin touched mine.
“Fuck,” he growled, bending low. “I want you. Oh, Ashleigh, I want you so fucking much.”
Without quite intending to, I let my hand wander farther up his thigh. I squeezed him, and the muscles flexed back with twice the force. I let out an involuntary coo, and then I made an executive decision.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” I murmured, tilting my face so I spoke directly into his ear. “There's a single stall at the end of the hallway. Join me in two.” Landon raised his eyebrows, and then his face cracked open. He started laughing softly. At first, I figured I'd read the situation entirely wrong—but it was then that I felt his grip on my face tighten, ever-so-slightly.
“I don't know if I can wait that long,” he grunted, before tilting back in his chair. He raised his glass of Coors and took a hearty swig. I rose slowly and turned toward the bathroom, half-hoping no one would notice me, half-hoping everyone would.
The stall at the far end of the hall was cramped and poorly-lit, but I didn't care. I peeled off my shirt first, then draped the horrible floral over the doorknob. My bare skin tingled in the grimy air. I waited, heart in my throat. I waited some more.
Landon took his sweet time in the corridor—I could tell by the weight of the footsteps that it was him marching towards me. Suddenly it was like the whole bar went quiet. I watched the door knob, breath coming out in raspy bursts. It creaked slowly.
The bathroom was lit by a single bare bulb in a cage, swinging from a frayed extension cord—this cast a blue, eerie light over the proceedings. He smiled at me, drank in my bare torso with his eyes. I leaned myself against the sink, an invitation.
Then he was on me. Hungry. His firm, probing fingers found my ribcage, and hoisted me onto the lip of the sink in one swift move. His mouth attached itself to my neck, clasping and sucking on my throat for dear life. “Sweet...fuck,” I murmured, into the thatch of his already-sweaty hair. Then I remembered. We should probably be quiet.
But if Landon cared at all about any Derby patrons overhearing us, he didn't indicate this to me. Instead, his movements became more rapid. He peeled one hand off my waist and reached up to squeeze my tit, so hard I was sure he'd leave marks. I arched my back against his chest, and he swept his hand across me like a towel, landing his fingers in the crest of my jeans. He pushed up sharply against my mound, sending a spasm of premature pleasure through my lower back. Once again, joy arrived in my throat. “Yes,” I gasped, digging my fingers into the back of his head, where his hair joined the nape of his neck. “Oh, fuck yes. Touch me. Please, baby.”
Landon didn't waste any time. His fingers were shaking as they struggled against the buttons of my jeans, but once he'd eased the zipper down, his confidence multiplied. He shimmied a hand down past the elastic line of my panties, pausing to rummage around in the thatch of my pubis for a second before sliding a finger across my wetness. His fingers shook again. He groaned. “You're so fucking wet,” he cried, voice almost angry. I felt my pussy clench at his words. Then, Landon looked up, with a new glimmer in his eye. “I have to taste you.”
I barely nodded assent before he was dragging my pants off from the ankles, falling to kneel on the bathroom floor. I no longer thought about where we were, or the world outside (with its commands, its many nuisances...) there was only the perfect now. My ass was cold against the sink, but Landon's paws scooted me forward again so I kept one foot on the ground. Ever the gentleman, he'd managed to take my pants off while I kept my wedges on.
He shot me a look of pure marvel from the ground as his big, strong hands began to rove around my naked lower half. He drew back and gazed at me. I felt like a statue. He smiled, then arched a mischievous eyebrow. I leaned my head back with anticipation. Sweat was pooling in my collarbone already.
Landon's lips were soft and sweet on my thigh, yet even the slightest contact sent a jolt of electricity across the map of my body. He made a path of kisses, moving from the inside of my knee up across the milky white expanse of my leg. When he reached the crevice where my folds began, he kissed deeper. I might have exploded from sensation—I'd lost track of what was holding me together. He worked his open mouth across my pelvis and then lightly flicked his tongue across my damp clit.