Linc And Raven: Forbidden Part 7

A small part of me wishes he'd fight me and refuse to leave, staying by my side to comfort me, telling me he'd do anything to fix this. Instead, he does the opposite. He mumbles, "I'm sorry, baby," before disappearing into the cool December night, leaving me all alone once again.

June 8th 2013 I dreamt about him last night for the first time in years. I've done well pus.h.i.+ng Lawson McCoy from my thoughts and moving on with my life. Now that my best friend Delilah, who just happens to be his little sister, is getting married in two weeks, I can't escape thoughts of him, from his smile, to his warm chocolate eyes that would turn me into melted chocolate on the floor in front of him with just one glance, to the feeling of his big strong arms around me.

It's been four years since I said goodbye to him, since that day I left Tuscaloosa and never looked back. The first few months were hard. A small part of me kept wis.h.i.+ng I'd come home one day and find him sitting on my parents' doorstep, but that sadly never happened. I told him it'd be easier if we didn't see each other the day I packed up my things and moved out of my apartment with Delilah. Lawson, never one to do as he's asked still showed up that morning saying he wanted to help my parents move out my things.

I tried to give him back the engagement ring he'd given me, but he refused and told me to keep it...p.a.w.n it...he didn't care. Hearing those words-He. Didn't. Care.-shredded my heart into a million tiny pieces, and then I watched them as they blew away in the gentle, cool winter breeze as I wheeled myself back to my dad's truck that was full of my belongings.

To this day, it is still hard to think about the accident, about Lily's death, and all of my dreams that were ripped from me. Every day I woke up without Lawson beside me, I grew bitterer and hated him a little more. I was back in Lincoln going to a community college to become a registered nurse, instead of a doctor like I'd imagined my entire life. I'd lived and breathed softball since I was old enough to stand up and my dad got me a wiffle ball set.

Lawson got to continue chasing his dreams. He got to graduate with all of our friends at our dream college. His life went on as if nothing had ever happened, while I felt like my life had frozen in place the second I woke up in that hospital room. He only had to serve thirty days in jail, and then got probation and community service for killing my best friend.

I've tried to move on. I've dated, met some amazing men, but none of them have clicked the way I did with Lawson. Our love was instant, all consuming, and what I thought would be the greatest love story of all time.

I wonder all the time if Lawson has moved on. He so easily walked away from me and didn't think twice about sleeping with a random girl while we were together, so I wouldn't be surprised if he had. Delilah swears he's still hung up on me and has never been able to commit to a girl for very long before finding some lame-a.s.s excuse to break up with her. I hate that it elates me knowing he's feeling the same way I do. I want him to suffer and be alone, so I don't feel like such an idiot for not being able to get over him.

Delilah tries her best not to talk about him around me, but sometimes she'll slip when we're out together. She'll say something about him, and the instant his name hits my ears, my heart stammers in my chest.

Before we broke up, I thought the idea of hating someone and loving them all at the same time was something that could never happen. But, as I sit here today and sip my latte at Delilah's and my favorite cafe in town Coffee & Books. I battle with myself as thoughts of how I feel about seeing Lawson play on a loop in my mind. The idea of seeing him finally after four years infuriates me and makes b.u.t.terflies invade my stomach all at the same time.

We've been going over last minute menu changes for the wedding, and mapping out our plan to hit some antique shops this afternoon to try and find some unique items to decorate the reception. She's going for a cla.s.sic southern feel. I swear my best friend wishes she'd been born back during Scarlett O'Hara's time.

"So, how are you feeling about you-know-who coming to town today?" Delilah asks nervously as she rings her napkin in her hands.

I feel awful. This is supposed to be a happy time for her, and instead of being excited about her upcoming nuptials, she's stressing over how Lawson and I will get along these next two weeks.

I decide to lie. I want her to stop stressing and enjoy this time. I love my best friend too much to allow myself to have anything to do with her not being excited about marrying the man of her dreams. "I'm fine. It's been four years. I moved on a long time ago."

She gives me a weary look. "Are you sure? If you are really freaking out on the inside, it's okay and completely understandable, Emelyn. I know he's my brother, and I love him to pieces, but what he did to you was wrong. All of us were a mess after the accident, but you didn't see you and me treating everyone we loved as if they didn't matter. If it helps, he's freaking out...like big time."

This gets my attention. "What do you mean?"

"He told me the other night on the phone he's nervous about coming home. You guys have somehow managed to avoid each other for the last few years. Now that is impossible to do, since you're in my wedding together. He said he's afraid it's going to be too hard being back here, and not just seeing you, but having to walk with you in my wedding."

I take a long sip of my latte as I absorb her words. A part of me wants to confess to her I'm freaking the h.e.l.l out inside, while the other part is saying I need to put my big girl panties on and suck it up. Then, to hear Lawson is feeling everything I am only makes my nervousness intensify. Being around him is going to be extremely hard, and I'm not sure I'll survive these two weeks without doing something stupid.

Lawson McCoy is my ultimate weakness. Even with every fiber of my body loathing that man for breaking my heart, for some messed up reason I still miss him. I never told Delilah, but that's the reason I've avoided him every time he's come to town for the holidays. I've always been too afraid that once I see him, the pain I've worked so hard to move past will come flooding back, and I'll cave and beg for him to give us another chance.

My goal is to survive these next two weeks and steer clear of Lawson unless absolutely necessary.

I give Delilah a huge grin as I place my hand over hers. "I'm fine. Really. I will do whatever I can to stay out of Lawson's way while he's here. I won't allow anything to happen that'll ruin your special day. We're both grown adults. There's no reason why we can't walk up an aisle together and get along for the sake of our favorite person. We both love you and want this wedding to be everything you've envisioned since we were eight years old and made our dream wedding sc.r.a.pbook." I laugh as I give her hand a gentle squeeze.

I'm convincing her as much as I'm convincing myself.

"As long as you say so." Her eyes light up and a small smile spreads across her pet.i.te face. "Now, no more dreary, sad stuff. We're leaving the doom and gloom behind and we're going to have a fun-filled day of wedding shopping."

I nod in agreement. "Sounds like the perfect plan to me."

The door to the cafe chimes as someone enters. We're sitting by the front window in our usual seat, where we get coffee together every morning. We were so engrossed in our conversation, I didn't notice anyone walk by and enter the cafe until the bell above the door rang.

Glancing up, I spot Tucker Reid. He's the fire chief here in town and on more than one occasion has tried to convince me to go out on a date with him. I've tried to avoid dating anyone in this town. My relations.h.i.+ps never last, so it's easier to just avoid the local guys all together. I don't want the headache of worrying about running into them around town, so I've always dated guys from the ones surrounding Lincoln.

"Good mornin', ladies. What are you two up to on this lovely day?" Tucker greets us as soon as he spots Delilah and me sitting by the window. He's best friends with her fiance Grayson; they work in the same firehouse together. Delilah's been on my case to give him a chance, and even went as far as suggesting he be my plus one for the wedding.

I have to admit his dimpled chin smile and sparkling hazel eyes are enough to make my heart rate pick up. I'm not blind; I know he's extremely good looking. I just don't want to give him the wrong idea by asking him to be my date to the wedding, but I also don't want to look pathetic in front of Lawson by showing up alone. What if he brings a date? Delilah's never mentioned if he's going with someone, but then again, she rarely talks about him around me to begin with.

"Hey, Tucker. It is a lovely day out, isn't it?" she says, grinning from Tucker to me before glancing out the large gla.s.s window.

"Mornin', Tucker. We're getting ready to do some last minute wedding shopping for the reception." I smile weakly at him before sipping on my coffee, trying anything to distract myself.

I'm a bundle of nerves, and it's all because of the mischievous glimmer sparkling in my best friend's eyes right now.

"Are you working at the fire house today?" Delilah asks as Tucker leans against the wall beside our table-directly next to me, of course.

He lets out a low, "Mm-hm, that I am. I'm just grabbin' a coffee then heading over for my s.h.i.+ft. Grayson is working today too; we have a school field trip coming in this afternoon. You know how much the kids love that big goofball. So it should be an interesting day."

"Aww, I love seeing the pictures of the kids with their fire hats on. Hopefully sooner rather than later, we'll have a Jr. Fire Fighter running around the firehouse."

Tucker and I both give her a serious look, silently asking if she's hinting at anything. If she gets knocked up before the wedding, I'm going to kill her, because I booked us a weekend getaway next weekend for her bachelorette party. Strippers and shots won't be any fun if she's all bloated and puking.

"Chill, you guys!" She laughs, holding her hands up. "No baby-on-board car decals yet. Believe me!"

I relax in my seat. Thank G.o.d!

"Speaking of weddings, I need to send you my RSVP. I've been swamped at work and it keeps slippin' my mind," he says, and I feel Tucker move away from the wall and take a few steps, stopping in front of us. Leaning forward, he rests his hands on the table and flashes me his sweet boy-next-door smile.

"Oh, don't worry. You can just give it to Grayson at work if you'd like. Are you bringing a special lady with you by chance?"

What is she doing?!

He lets out a deep chuckle. "Well, actually no, I'm not. Slim pickin's around here. Everyone seems to be getting hitched lately."

I divert my eyes out the window, but can feel Delilah's on me.

"Well, my maid of honor here is flying solo too. Why don't you two just go together? It'd be fun!"

I snap my head around so fast I cause the table to shake and some of my coffee to spill out of my cup.

I'm going to kill her before she even gets a chance to walk down that d.a.m.n aisle.

"A beautiful girl like you attending a wedding alone? I find that hard to believe," Tucker says with a hint of flirtation in his voice.

I drop my eyes to my mug. I wonder if it's possible to drown yourself in a cup of coffee if you try hard enough, because right about now, I'd do anything to escape this conversation. My matchmaking best friend is so going to get it once we leave this d.a.m.n cafe.

s.h.i.+fting nervously in my chair, I look from Delilah to Tucker. What the h.e.l.l do I say?

Do I lie and say I have a date? But then what would I say when I show up to the wedding alone?

"Sadly, yes, my best friend here is going alone. I swear she's going to be one of those old, lonely cat ladies. All she does it work all the time."

Just as I lift my gaze to Tucker's to politely turn him down, I hear a rumble of a motorcycle pulling up outside the window. My stomach flip-flops as I see it pull up out front of the cafe. The instant the helmet is pulled from the head attached to the ma.s.sive body of solid muscle wearing the s.e.xiest pair of tight jeans I've ever seen on a man, black biker boots, and a tight fitting grey v-neck tee, my mouth drops. Not because of the body, even though it looks like his biceps were chiseled from marble, but because of the face I see as the sleek black helmet is removed and set onto the seat of the Harley.

Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t!

I think I let a small gasp escape as I take in Lawson standing beside his bike, running his fingers through his long auburn hair that falls to the top of his ears. He was always handsome, but now he has a rough and rugged manly look to him, with a light stubble shading his strong jaw.

"You okay?" Tucker asks, snapping me out of my Lawson haze.

I force my eyes away from the window. "Sorry. I'm fine. To answer your question, I'm very single, and yes, I planned on attending the wedding alone. But I guess it wouldn't hurt if two friends went together, all in the name of celebrating our best friends getting married."

I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth right now. Seeing Lawson has my brain scrambled, but there is no way in h.e.l.l I'm going to that wedding alone. I need someone to keep me distracted and to help keep Lawson away. If he thinks I'm with someone, it'll make it easier to avoid him at all costs.

One thing is for sure: I now officially know I'm definitely not over Lawson McCoy. If it's possible, I think seeing him just now made me fall just a little bit harder for him.

I'm totally and utterly screwed.

Please, G.o.d, let these two weeks fly by. The faster we get this wedding over with, the faster we can all go back to our normal lives. Lawson can go back to Tuscaloosa, and I can return to my content life of denial I've been living.

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I SWEAR TO G.o.d if I had to fake one more o.r.g.a.s.m today, my f.u.c.king head was going to explode. The heavy-set older man's sweat dripped onto my back as he tried ferociously to pound into me from behind. He was breathing so hard I feared that he would have a heart attack if he didn't lose his f.u.c.king load soon.

"Oh baby. Yeah, like that," I said in my well-practiced, seductive voice as I stared down at my nails while thinking about how I needed to schedule an appointment for a manicure. I needed to call my agent as well and tell her that if she scheduled me with anymore older men who had issues keeping it up long enough to even penetrate me, then I would throttle her.

This wasn't the way I envisioned my life playing out when I was younger. I never had the thoughts of "Hey, I'm going to be an escort when I grow up". I know what you are thinking. Escort, call girl, prost.i.tute, wh.o.r.e. What's the difference? The difference is I don't care. I don't care about the men I f.u.c.k on a daily basis. I don't care that they might have families at home. I don't care if they are some of the most powerful men in the news or the movies. The difference is I just don't care.

I don't experience many of the emotions or feelings that normal people do. I don't feel remorse. I don't feel emotional pain. I occasionally experience happiness, anger, and agitation, but I sure as h.e.l.l don't feel love. It is something that I have always dealt with. I don't have the ability to identify or describe most of the everyday feelings that people experience. It is a condition I was born with. Gifted by the grace of G.o.d to live almost emotionless in this world of f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.+t.

What is the one thing I do experience? Pleasure. Having s.e.x is the only time that my mind and my body get to truly...feel. I guess you could say that is the reason behind my chosen profession. Having s.e.x with men gives me a sense of tipping the hat at normalcy. Having someone buried deep within the walls of me is the only occurrence in which I don't feel like a stagnant, vacant person.

"Oh Jericho, your p.u.s.s.y is tighter than I remember," the man behind me said as he pounded into me with as much force as he could before he choked out his release. I tried to clench my inner muscles as tight as I could, willing for even a hint of an o.r.g.a.s.m to follow.

Nope.

Nothing.

f.u.c.k.

I hung my head in frustration as the man pulled out of me. Pressing my palms into the mattress, I lifted my chest and scooted to the side of the bed to put my clothes back on as the man walked to the bathroom to discard the used condom. I watched as his wrinkled, sagging a.s.s jiggled with each step he took. I would have laughed if I felt some amus.e.m.e.nt. I would have shuddered in disgust if I knew what that felt like. Instead, I reached for the brown envelope on the side table and slipped it into my bag. Mr. Patterson was probably the easiest grand I made. It took him all of about five minutes when he could have had a whole hour. My policy though is once you c.u.m, we're finished and the session was over. My clients know this. It kept s.h.i.+t from being personal and gave me a reason to high tail it the f.u.c.k out of there without having to actually engage in conversations I couldn't care less about.

"Always a pleasure, Jericho. I put a little something in your envelope this month. I will call and schedule another session with Alexandra soon."

"Thank you, Mr. Patterson," I said as I put my coat back on and slung my purse over my shoulder and exited the hotel room.

The frigid air of New York hit me in the face as I finally made my way outside. Walking to the curb, I threw my hand up in the air and allowed my leg to stick out a little from my coat. Sure it was cold enough to freeze my p.u.s.s.y lips shut, but I'd do anything to be able to get into a cab faster.

One of the familiar yellow cabs with the stereotypical Middle Eastern man pulled up to the curb, and I hurried my freezing a.s.s into the car. After barking orders to the cabbie to take me to my downtown Manhattan apartment, my phone rang from inside my bag.

"Lexie," I said, addressing my agent.

"Are you done with Mr. Patterson already? Wow, that is a record, even for him," her throaty, cigarette smoke produced voice said through the speaker.

"Why the f.u.c.k do you keep scheduling him with me, Alexandra? It is a waste of a good o.r.g.a.s.m that some other man could have given me. If I'm going to f.u.c.k someone, I should at least get the benefits of it."

"So I'm Alexandra now. Are you p.i.s.sed? Wait. Never mind, forget I asked. Stupid question."

"Why are you calling if you knew I was with Mr. Patterson?"

"Because I know Mr. Patterson," she chuckled again while I stayed silent. "Ugh, you are such a hard a.s.s, Jericho."

"I don't feel like playing games, Lex. I have nasty old man sweat on me, and all I want to do is curl up in my tub and give myself the much needed and deserved o.r.g.a.s.m that your Mr. Patterson deprived me of tonight. s.h.i.+t, it's been like four times in a row now. I think you should give him to one of the other girls."

"I tried, he wants you."

"Everyone wants me."

"Conceited much?"

"Get to the point."

"I need a favor. Kiki sprained her ankle or some s.h.i.+t and her client is refusing to cancel. He said to provide someone else, or he wouldn't require our services anymore."

"Not my problem, Lexie. I'm done. As I said, old man sweaty, wrinkled b.a.l.l.s is reeking off of my body."

"Jericho, when do I ever ask you for a favor?"

"All the time."

"Point well made. But, please. He is one of our biggest clients. He pays well. Cash. Four grand."

I paused from our conversation to try and process what Lexie was saying. Four grand? That would cover my living expenses for the month plus have plenty left over to go shopping. But who the h.e.l.l would pay that much money to be with a woman one time? The thought had me a little turned off. What if he was old like Mr. Patterson? What if he wanted some kinky animal s.h.i.+t going on?

"He isn't some sick motherf.u.c.ker who is into b.e.s.t.i.a.lity and s.h.i.+t like that either, is he?"

"Oh my G.o.d, no. I would never send any of my girls to a client like that. You know very well that we screen all of our clients thoroughly. It is my job to protect you girls while you make money for yourselves as well as for me."

"Fine, but I want next weekend off, Lexie. I'm due for it."

"Deal. But there are a few stipulations."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"The client requires complete anonymity. You have to wear a blindfold the entire time you are in session and will not be allowed to remove it until after he leaves."

"That I can do, Lex. At least that way I don't have to look at his wrinkles or his hairy a.s.s and can imagine it's someone like Brad Pitt f.u.c.king the h.e.l.l out of me."

"Good. I'll send his driver to your apartment in the next hour. Jer, this one is important. He is one of our highest paying clients. Do your best."

After hanging up, I wondered what kind of man I would have to deal with tonight. I was tired, even after my lack of o.r.g.a.s.m with Mr. Patterson, but maybe I could get my much-needed release after all.