Everything I Can Never Have (Age & Innocence Book 2) Read online

  With some liquid courage, maybe I’ll muster enough bravery to make a move.

  Who knows? Maybe he’ll make one back.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

  “No offence, Sofe,” he mutters, calling me by my nickname, “but I don’t think you’d understand.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighs. “Because you’re still a kid. I’m sure your biggest issue tonight was figuring out what colour lip gloss to pair with that pretty little dress. Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t automatically make you a grown-up.”

  My hands clench in my lap; his tone is so arrogant that it takes everything in me to refrain from smacking him across the face. Being eighteen doesn’t immediately mean I have zero life experience. I’ve been through a lot for someone my age and I’ve dealt with the curveballs life has thrown me better than people twice my age would have. Fuck, I know for sure I deal with shit better than he does. At least I face my problems.

  “Just because you’re forty-one doesn’t mean you act like it,” I retort.

  “You’re right, I haven’t been acting much like an adult lately.”

  He expels a breath of whiskey-scented air in my direction, and doubt seeps into my stomach. I feel bad because he’s even drunker than I thought. Not that I blame him. If I had just discovered my wife was a cheating whore, I’d want to drink myself into a coma, too. God, I still can’t believe she would actually do that to him. I knew they were having problems, but cheating? And then to have the audacity to turn up to my party like nothing had happened after Dad specifically told her not to come? She really is a piece of work.

  I shift my attention back to Zave, my teeth clamping down hard on my lip. I shouldn’t be encouraging him to drink more, not in his condition. The responsible thing to do would be to call a taxi and get him back to his hotel, just like Dad asked me to, but I can’t bring myself to do it, not without at least trying to get through to him.

  “Can I tell you what I think?”

  “Can I stop you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

  “I think you’re scared,” I state, ignoring his little dig. “You’ve been hiding behind a broken marriage for years because it’s easier than admitting to yourself how you really feel. You need to figure out what you want and stop feeling sorry for yourself over things you have no control of.”

  “Sofie Jenkins, telling it like it is,” he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine. He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, his gaze sending shivers shooting down my spine. “I don’t remember you being this outspoken.”

  “Yeah, well I’m surprised you remember much of me at all.” The words tumble out before I can stop them and for a moment, I feel bad. Maybe I’m being too harsh? Sure, the guy needs a wake-up call, but I’m probably the wrong person to try and give it to him.

  “What do you mean by that?” He stiffens, hostility flashing in his eyes.

  I shrug, debating whether to continue, but then I decide, what the hell? I’ve come this far. I might as well keep going. I doubt it will make any difference but, who knows? Maybe something I say will sink in.

  “You haven’t exactly been Mr. Approachable,” I explain. “You’ve been around, but you never seem to be really there, if that makes sense. You’re always so distant and you push everyone away.”

  “I never pushed your dad away,” he argues in a gruff tone.

  “Because he was too stubborn to let you.” I reply with a laugh. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of place. I just remember the way things used to be, before…” I stop myself from saying it just in time. Before Dylan died. “I used to love spending time with you,” I say in a softer voice.

  This wasn’t supposed to turn into the intervention it somehow has. Zave lowers his gaze and I try unsuccessfully to read his expression. When he still doesn’t respond, I fill the silence with more words.

  “We all have moments that try to break us,” I say softly. “It’s how you cope with it that matters. You can either use it as a reason to push yourself even deeper into your shell or make it the turning point that pulls you out of it. Do something with your life. Stop existing and start living again… it’s what Dylan would’ve wanted.”

  His eyes cool at the mention of his son’s name. I suck in a slow breath, worried that I’ve pushed him too far. He’s not ready to hear this, especially from me, no matter how qualified I might be to speak on the subject.

  Mum died when I was five, so my whole life, it’s just been Dad and me. Once upon a time, Zave and Maria were like family to us, but everything changed after the accident. It was like they couldn’t bear to look at me because I reminded them so much of what they’d lost. Zave especially closed himself off, though I tried not to take it personally—he withdrew from everyone, including Maria.

  Dad was the only one who refused to let him hide within his shell. He pushed his friend through what I’m sure were the hardest months of his life and, slowly, Zave started to open up again, though he was never quite the same. Losing someone who is such a pivotal part of your life has to change you.

  In a way, I’m lucky I was so young when Mum died. I feel awful even thinking that, but I don’t have the constant reminders of her that I’m sure Dad has of her, or that Zave and Maria have about Dylan. Losing Dylan was hard for me too. He was one of my closest friends, but there were times where I felt like I didn’t have the right to grieve for him because other people were hurting so much more than me. People like Zave.

  “Thanks for the psych evaluation, but can we get on with the game now if it’s okay with you?” His light tone contradicts the darkness in his eyes, but I let it go and nod.

  “Sure.” I motion for him to start. “You go first.”

  He nods and takes a moment to contemplate a question to ask. Whatever it is, I hope it gives me a reason to drink, because I could use one after that. Honestly, my little speech has been a long time coming. So many times, I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but I’ve always stopped myself because it wasn’t my place.

  “Never have I ever gotten so drunk I can’t remember the night before.”

  Zave drinks his shot down and then gives me an expectant look. I shake my head and try to think of my own half-decent question, one that will ease some of the tension I can feel has grown between us.

  “Never have I ever,” I pause thoughtfully, “flashed a stranger.”

  Lifting my glass to my lips, I lean forward and swallow. He drinks too, then refills both our glasses, ready for the next question.

  “Never have I ever lied to my parents.”

  “You’re being tame.” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not about to start talking shit with my friend’s kid,” he growls as we both take a drink. “I don’t need your dad coming for me because I told you about all the crazy shit he and I used to get up to. Or worse, giving you some bad ideas.”

  “Oh, so there is crazy shit?” I tease, leaning in.

  It’s so cute he thinks he could be a bad influence on me. If he knew half the shit I got up to, he wouldn’t think I was so sweet and innocent. He clears his throat and shifts his attention away from me. I hide a smile, fully aware that he could stare right down the top of my dress if he wanted to, something he’s clearly trying hard not to do.

  “Hah, nice try,” he says, a glint of life in his eyes, something I haven’t seen in a long time. “Your turn.”

  “Never have I ever… had sex in a car.”

  “You’re seriously asking that?” He lets out an uneasy laugh as he rubs his jaw, directing his attention to anywhere but me. “Pass.”

  “You can’t pass,” I complain, nudging his thigh, my touch lingering a little longer than it should. “Come on, Zave, it’s just a game. Live a little, for once.”

  “Fine.” He rolls his eyes and takes a drink. His eyes widen when I do too. “You’re… You’re serious?”

  I nod, grinning at him, pleased he f
inds that so shocking. I bet he thought I was still a virgin. I’m sure I have nowhere near as much experience as he does, but I know more than enough to be confident in myself.

  “Your turn.” I smirk.

  “Never have I ever had sex in a movie theatre.” His eyes lock on mine as he waits for me to react. I press my lips together, wetting them with my tongue and take my time to answer.

  “Does masturbation count?”

  His eyes flash, then darken. “No.”

  “Too bad.”

  I smile and set my drink down and watch him as he swallows his in a single mouthful. Shivers race down my spine, my thighs tingling as he leans closer to me, heat radiating off him like a furnace. I feel dizzy, the smell of whiskey on his breath mixed with his signature cologne is as familiar to me as my own scent. He’s clearly drunk and I’m well on my way there, too. All I want to do is kiss those lips and see if he tastes as sweet as I imagine, but I stop myself. For now.

  “Your turn, Sofie,” he whispers.

  Tilting my head, I drape my hair over one shoulder to show my neck. His knuckles go white as his grip on the whiskey bottle tightens, his glazed eyes sweeping over me. I’d love to be inside his head right now. Is he thinking the same dirty thoughts as I am?

  “Never have I ever showered naked,” I say.

  He grunts, his eyes narrowing as he pours the shot into his mouth and swallows.

  “Now you’re just messing with me. You’re trying to get me drunk.”

  “You were already drunk before I came along,” I remind him. “Besides, you’ve answered yes to every question. If my plan was to get you drunk, I wouldn’t need to try very hard.”

  “Never have I ever tried to get my dad’s best friend drunk,” he grumbles.

  “Now who’s trying to get who drunk?”

  Giggling, I drink down my shot, then I push my glass over to him and wait for a refill. When he’s done, I lift my gaze to his and wet my lips.

  “Never have I ever used my mouth to make someone come.”

  I pause, my gaze unashamedly sweeping over him before I drink my shot. A low growl rises in his throat. He grips his glass and lifts it to his mouth, tossing its contents back, then he fills his glass again and drinks that too. I look at him quizzically.

  “I figured multiple orgasms is worth at least two shots.” He smirks.

  Oh God.

  I press my thighs together as warmth pools between them. He runs his fingertip over the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving mine. I lift my eyebrows, waiting, daring him to be the one to push this game over the fine line we’ve been treading on. Or at the very least, clue me in on what he’s thinking.

  “Never have I ever had dirty thoughts about someone I really fucking shouldn’t.”

  I suck in a breath of air and swallow, forcing it deep into my lungs as he drinks down his shot. Holy shit. I’m not imagining this; we’re daring the other to make the first move, and I’ve never wanted someone as much as I do right now.

  “Is that a no, Sofe?”

  I tilt my head back and drink down my shot in response. My heart thuds in my chest as I open my mouth to speak, because it’s now or never.

  “Never have I ever wanted to fuck my father’s best friend.”

  He stills, his eyes dark and sharp as he watches me bring my glass to my lips. The silence between us stretches out like the final note of a song, just waiting to fade. His eyes burn into me, flashing with understanding as I take a long, steady drink and then set my empty glass down.

  If that doesn’t make my intentions clear, I’m not sure what will.

  “Sofie…” Doubt clings to his voice as my name rolls off his tongue.

  I reach out to touch his leg and he grabs my wrist, stopping me. We stare at each other, at a standstill. He wants this as much as I do, but even in his inebriated state, he knows he can’t make the first move. It wouldn’t be right.

  Blood bursting through my veins, I stand up, not ready to let this moment end. I’m conveniently positioned between his legs, my mouth inches from his. He stares at me, his pained eyes burning through me, igniting a fire deep within my soul. It’s like it’s taking every bit of his strength not to kiss me right now, and here I am hoping he’ll just give in. My heart fluttering, I gaze at his lips and reach up to finger his rough regrowth, the soft peppering of grey running through it one of the few signs of his age.

  Forty-one.

  That makes him twenty-three years older than me.

  “Fuck, Sofie, this is a bad idea,” he hisses.

  I part my lips into a devilish smile. “Most of the best ideas are.”

  Lifting myself onto my toes, I press my lips against his. He stiffens, a low growl forming in the back of his throat as I work my mouth against his. For a split second, he resists, and I worry he’s not going to reciprocate, but then his big hand clutches my waist, drawing me closer. Still gripping my wrist, I gasp as he twists my arm behind my back, pushing me even closer to him. Pain shoots through my arm, but all I can think about is the fact that his mouth is on mine. It’s a hard and passionate kiss that makes me shiver and sigh as I melt against his broad, muscled chest. He tastes like whiskey and vodka, his kisses powerful enough to make my lips tingle.

  He releases my wrist and then slides his hand around the back of my neck, knotting his fingers in my hair. I whine softly against his mouth, my hands pressing down onto his thighs. My heart flutters as I feel how tense and strong he is beneath my grip. One of his hands slides up my side, grazing the seam of my dress.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, pulling me closer.

  I gasp when I barely touch his erection through his slacks, just the tip of it along his thigh, hinting at his length. He growls and kisses down my neck, breathing me in like an animal. His thumb brushes over the sheer fabric covering my nipple. I groan and press my body against him, a shot of lightning shooting down my spine, desire rushing through me like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

  When he tilts his head and slides his tongue into my mouth, I easily take control of the kiss. With one hand touching his face, I run the other up his thigh, my fingers brushing past his erection. He grunts into my mouth as my fingers tease him, working him up even more than he already is.

  Then, the courtyard door jingles, startling us apart. My eyes widen as I take a step back and straighten up my dress, while Zave angles himself away from me, no doubt trying to hide his erection. No less than a second later, Maria appears around the small divider wall sheltering us from view. She smiles at me and I force one back, silently praying she has no idea what she’d just interrupted.

  “Hi, Sofie,” she says kindly. “I’d like to talk to my husband for a moment, if I may.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Zave snaps.

  I take a step forward. “Maybe you’re better off giving him some space—”

  “Sofie, I appreciate you’re trying to help, but this is between Xavier and me,” Maria cuts in.

  There’s an edge to her tone that I really don’t like, so I ignore her and glance at Zave, hesitant to leave them alone. His dark eyes, filled with regret, meet mine, and he gives me a small smile.

  “It’s okay, Sofie,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.”

  Snatching up my purse, I nod, then disappear behind the divider and back into the bar.

  Digging out my phone, I order an Uber. Even though home is only a ten-minute walk away, I’m not stupid enough to do it alone at this time of night. It’s late. Waiting outside the bar for my ride, I shift on my feet. I’m tired, annoyed that Maria interrupted us, but most of all, I’m worried Zave is going to regret what happened the moment he sobers up.

  He’s still married, after all, and he’s loyal; if not to Maria, then to my dad. He definitely won’t forgive himself for kissing his best friend’s daughter. I know that, yet, I can’t stop thinking about what happened.

  The way he touched me, how big and strong he f
elt pressed up against me, how fiercely his eyes met mine when I told him I wanted to fuck him…

  I sigh and touch my lips, still tender and tingling.

  What a way to mark my passage to adulthood.

  Chapter 4

  Xavier

  “So what?” I snap at Maria. “You’re stalking me now?”

  Hurt clouds her eyes, which fills me with rage. She doesn’t get to play the victim anymore. I gave up everything for her—took a job I hated and tried to be a good husband to her and a father to my son, and now it feels like everything was a waste. Glaring at her, I grind my molars together, which does my headache no favours.

  “I came out here to check you were okay—”

  “If I’m not okay, it’s because of you,” I say bitterly. “Why can’t you just get the message that I want you to leave me the fuck alone?”

  “Because you can’t run away from this, Zave. If we talk about this, then we might have a fighting chance at fixing this relationship.”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to fix it. I want out. I’m done. I told you that last week.”

  Her face pales as she stares at me. “I thought you just needed some time—”

  “All the time in the world isn’t going to fix us, Maria,” I rage. “You made damn sure of that.”

  I jump off the table and stagger over to the door. I need to get the fuck out of here before I say or do something I’ll really regret—though after what happened with Sofie, it might be too late for that.

  “Xavier, if you walk out that door—”

  “What?” I turn around and challenge her empty threat. “What are you going to do?”

  I laugh when the only response I get is her trembling lip and glassy eyes. Here we go again with the fucking tears. Anyone would think I was the one who cheated on her.

  My jaw clenches because I kind of just did that, didn’t I?

  Turning back around, I stalk back into the main bar and over to the exit. Outside, I hail a taxi, and then I go back to my hotel, wishing I could forget tonight ever happened.