Sequel: Chapter Seven

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Gemma

"No, babe," Ben shook his head. "You're swinging too soft. Like this."

He stood in front of the golf ball, the club cradled in his hands, his hips doing this awful little shake. I cursed myself for ever agreeing to this as he took a swing at the ball. It went a measly hundred yards into the driving range and Ben turned around like he was Tiger Woods or something.

Did he not know how obnoxious he looked? And why did he have to keep calling me babe?

"Oh, I think I get it now." I pressed my lips into a firm smile. I didn't, but I had about all of his teaching I could take. We had four more hours of this? Maybe I could fake an injury or something.

The only satisfaction I was getting from this entire thing was the bitter scowl on Anthony's face. Brow furrowed, his hardened jaw set, eyes as piercing as daggers. He had one leg propped up against the tree trunk he was leaning against and his arms folded incredulously across his chest. Jesus, he was sexy when he was mad. He knew that, though, and he was trying to distract me from my mission here.

I was still angry with him for the whole episode at the pool party, and that was why I agreed to come when Ben called last night. I hated golf, and I wasn't all that fond of Ben either, but making Anthony uncomfortable, now that excited me. In more ways than one.

"Why don't you practice a few more times and I'll go grab us a few beers for the cart? We tee off in fifteen minutes." He swiped a quick kiss across my cheek and headed toward the clubhouse.

Reluctantly, I grabbed a random club from the bag I borrowed from my mom. One more swing wouldn't help anything, but it wouldn't hurt either.

I lined up just like Ben explained and took a full force swing. Miraculously, the club connected with the ball, but it shot off to the side. This was pointless.

"He's wrong, you know." Anthony left his post, slowly walking toward me.

I rolled my eyes. "About what, exactly?"

"Swinging harder." He said. "It's not about how hard you swing; it's about the weight transfer."

"Weight transfer?" I arched an eyebrow. Now he was giving me golf tips? Did all men think they knew everything, or was it just the ones I seemed to attract?

"Here." He took the club out of my hand and lined up himself. "Start back and move forward. Kind of like a pendulum."

Anthony swung at the ball. It popped off the face of the club and went soaring through the air, straight as an arrow and nearly over the fence at the end of the range.

I pursed my lips, trying not to seem as impressed as I was.

"Give it a shot." Anthony handed me back the club.

I set up again, and just as I got set, Anthony's arms slid around me. I froze, staring straight down as he wrapped his hands around mine on the club, leaning over my shoulder so close that I could feel the cool mint of his breath against my ear. He pressed against me, and I could hardly breathe. Could he feel how hot I was getting? How fast my heart was beating?

"You just take you arms back like this..." He moved our arms back in unison and then brought them forward. The ball trickled off the tee, but at least it was straight.

"Better." Anthony instructed, still pressed against my body. The electricity that pulsed between us felt so strong that I couldn't even pull away if I wanted to. How was it possible to be as equally irritated as I was turned on by a guy? Anthony was pushy and annoying at every turn, but then a switch flipped inside of me and my body was literally aching for him to touch me.

"Try this..." His voice was low and raw, almost primal, and the vibration sent a tingly wave through me. Anthony's hands slid down my sides and rested on my hips. I sucked in a sharp breath, his touch sending me into absolute overdrive. God, how I wished his hands would dip just a bit lower. I could feel his erection pushing against me, and it was a small reprieve to know he was having the same reaction. And if we weren't standing in the middle of a country club golf course right now, I might have pushed the issue.

Instead, I stood as still as a statue, trying to keep my body from quivering and my legs from giving. And from giving Anthony any indication that he had this effect on me. The last thing I wanted to do was give him even more to be so smug about.

"Swing again. I'll guide your hips this time." Anthony said.

Right, like that was supposed to be easy? I was supposed to focus on this tiny golf ball, then I could feel his rock hard bulge pressing into me? Was he insane?

"Swing, Gemma." His voice was strong. Authoritative. Commanding. And it only made the burning sensation in my stomach grow.

Against every natural urge in body, I swung the golf club. Anthony's fingers gripped my hips, driving them forward as I finished.

The ball went straight forward, well past the flags and markers.

"I did it!" I laughed, a bit in shock.

"That was awesome, Gemma!" Anthony grinned. His hands were still on my waist, well after I had finished swinging. He seemed to notice the same moment I did, and he quickly pulled them away and shoved them in his pockets. "You're a quick learner."

"It helps when I have a teacher who actually knows what he's doing."

Anthony chuckled. "So you really dated this guy, huh?"

"Two years." I nodded.

"What on Earth did you talk about for that long? The guy doesn't seem like he could have an intelligent conversation if someone gave him a script." I loved the jealous tone in his voice.

"We didn't do much talking." I smirked.

Anthony clicked his tongue, unfazed by my teasing.

"Actually, I'm kidding. Ben figured out a long time ago no one really cares what you say as long as you're the loudest in the room. If you think you're important, soon enough, everyone will agree."

"You don't strike me as the type of girl who would put up with that kind of bullshit."

"Well, we're not together anymore, are we?" I shrugged.

"No, you're certainly not." He grinned. I hadn't even noticed when he got so close to me again, but he was hovering just inches away from me now. A tiny lean forward was all it would take, and that distance would disappear entirely. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing, and we both wanted it. Maybe I could push him far enough today that he'd finally act on it.

"Got it!" Ben's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. "All set Gems?"

"All set." I gave him a tight smile.

We loaded the golf cart, and Anthony hopped on the back.

"This really necessary, dude?" Ben growled. "The golf course is the very last place anyone would come after Gemma. And besides, she'll be with me."

Ben didn't know it, but that was probably the worst thing he could have said. Anthony didn't trust him as far as he could throw him--actually, maybe that analogy didn't work here, because judging by Anthony's swollen biceps, he could probably throw Ben pretty far.

"Sorry, wherever she goes, I go. Brandon's rules."

"Right." Ben grimaced. "Then I guess we're on our way."

This day was going to be absolute torture.

We headed out to the course, and for the first few holes I was into it. This was kind of fun when you knew what you were doing, and Ben was over the moon because he thought he was the one who taught me how. All the while, Anthony stayed in the cart with a smug grin on his face, basking in all his glory. It was like we had our own private joke, and I could hardly hold my own laughter in when I met his eyes.

It was getting harder and harder to keep my resolve up around him. Sometimes I wondered why I was fighting it in the first place.

"Damn it!" Ben hissed, watching his ball go flying to the left, disappearing into a field of weeds.

"Oh, no!" I frowned. "Do you want me to come help you find it?"

Ben glanced up towards the green where my ball sat. "No, that's okay. You just take the cart and I'll meet you up there."

He trudged toward the field, carrying a few clubs with him, and I drove the cart up to the green.

I knew we would be waiting awhile, so I went over to the water cooler and grabbed a cup.

"You're not actually enjoying this, are you?"

I jumped at the sound of Anthony's voice, suddenly right next to me.

"Jesus, you scared me."

"You're not, are you?" He pressed. There was that smug grin again. Anthony loved being right, loved having the upper hand, loved knowing he completely disarmed me. "Let's ditch him."

"Anthony, we can't..."

He put his finger to my lips. "We can. It's simple. Do you want to spend the rest of your afternoon pretending you're interested in golf, or do you want to spend it doing something fun with me?"

I hesitated, glancing over at Ben, who was still kicking through the tall grass. "What do you have in mind?"

"Does it matter? Anything is better than watching that idiot lose the few balls he's got."

I couldn't help but laugh, gently shaking my head.

"I like when you smile." Anthony touched my cheek. "It brings out a sparkle in your eyes."

I bit my lip, weighing my options. Between Ben and Anthony, it was no contest. And honestly, I didn't owe Ben anything. He was terrible to me the entire time we were together, and I wasn't falling for his new nice guy act.

"Okay." I agreed. A thick smile swept across Anthony's face.

"Well, that one's gone." Ben sighed, finally joining us. "I'm going to have to go into the pro-shop and buy some more balls. I didn't bring enough."

When I saw Anthony turn away with a wild smirk, it took all the strength I had not to laugh.

"Ben, I'm so sorry. My dad just called and there is some kind of emergency back home." I frowned, giving him my best impression of disappointment. "Can we take a raincheck on the rest of the round?"

"Oh no, is everything okay?"

"I'm sure it's fine. Something with my grandma, though. She's been sick."

"I'm so sorry, Gems." He put his arms round me. "Do you need a ride back?"

"I've got my car here." Anthony jumped in.

Ben clenched his jaw. "Okay. Call me later, alright?" He planted a heavy kiss on my lips, clearly flaunting it in front of Anthony.

"Take the cart." Ben grabbed his bag off the back. "I'll just walk the rest of the way."

We said our goodbyes, and Anthony and I headed back to the clubhouse.

"You're a pretty good liar." He chuckled as we parked the cart and packed up.

I shrugged. "One of many talents."

"I hope I get to see some more of those talents later." He smirked. "Now let's go have some fun."

Anthony drove us toward the city. When he parked the car, we were only a few blocks away from Little Italy.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, leading me through the crowds.

"Starving actually." I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and even then, I just grabbed a banana.

"Perfect." Anthony smiled. "There is a place up here that has a live band, and their pizza is life changing."

"God, it's been so long since I've had good New York pizza." I let my head fall back, my mouth already watering.

"West Coast pizza doesn't measure up?" He opened the door for me, and we found two open seats at the bar.

"Not at all." I shook my head, cringing. "They like to put things like broccoli or turnips on their pizza. The things I would have done for a good, old greasy slice of pepperoni."

Anthony arched his eyebrow, his interest suddenly piqued. "What kinds of things?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

"What can I get you guys?" The bartender asked, breaking the sexual tension between us.

"We'll take a large pepperoni pizza. The greasier the better." Anthony winked. "And two Blue Moons?"

"And two tequila shots." I threw in.

Anthony's face twisted in confusion.

"What?" I shrugged innocently. "I thought we were gonna have a little fun."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "One shot. But that's it. I can't bring you home all drunk and sloppy."

"You're afraid of my dad, aren't you?" I pursed my lips, draping one leg over the other and turning in the bar stool to face him.

"Deathly." He chuckled. "But more afraid of my dad. He sent me here to get some real working experience because he thought I had it too easy at home."

"Really?"

He nodded. "My dad is second in command of another organization in the city. One your dad works with quite a bit. I have a spot waiting for me there when I'm ready, but I got into some trouble back home and this was the alternative."

"Trouble, huh?" I twisted a piece of my hair between my fingers, hanging on his every word. I wanted to know absolutely everything about Anthony, and as long as he was spilling, I was all ears. "What kind of trouble?"

Anthony chuckled, taking a bug gulp of the beer that the bartender delivered. "Wouldn't you like to know?" A smug grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he threw my own words back at me.

"Very funny." I rolled my eyes. "Now, are we going to take these shots or what?"

He picked up the shot glass, studying it carefully. "Would you believe me if I told you I've never taken a tequila shot before?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I'm more of a whiskey guy."

"Let me show you how to do it." I offered through my seductive smile. If I played this right, I would have him eating out of the palm of my hand.

Anthony seemed amused, and set his glass down in front of him, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His gaze fell on softly, and a devilishly handsome smirk overtook his lips. "By all means..."

Without another word, I raised my hand to my mouth and licked the spot in between my finger and thumb, never once taking my eyes off of him. I sprinkled some salt on the wet spot on my hand and licked it off again slowly, making sure he got a good mental picture.

He shifted his weight, clearly falling prey to my plan. After biting into a slice of lime, I put the glass to my mouth and quickly threw the shot back. The first one was always the worst, I thought as a deep burning swarmed my throat.

Anthony's eyes soaked up every inch of me and I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable sitting in this bar with him.

"Your turn."

Without breaking eye contact, Anthony grabbed my hand. He brought it to his own mouth and parting his lips.

"What are you doing?" My voice broke in confusion.

"I'm doing what you showed me." He smirked, sticking his tongue out and sliding it against my skin. Holy shit. A deep red filled my cheeks, and I had to fight my body from quivering under his touch, some much for being in control. He turned the tables on me, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

Anthony sprinkled salt over my hand and lapped it up, eyes glued on me. My whole body was on fire at his touch. I would have let him take me right then if he had wanted to.

He licked up the small drop of lime juice dripping down his chin and then slugged his shot back without so much as a grimace. My hand was still securely nestled in his. He looked deeply into my eyes as if he was searching for something, like he thought they held the answer to something. My breathing hastened as I was unable to tear my eyes away from his intense stare. The room was crowded, but at that moment, I felt as if we were completely alone.

If he stayed like that, eyes locked intensely on me, hands intertwined for just a second longer, I might have leaned in and kissed him right then. I was disappointed when he dropped my hand and looked away, handing the bartender his credit card. Something came over him.

"Another?" I suggested hopefully.

"I think that's enough for the night." Anthony said sharply, avoiding both eye and physical contact with me. A dark wave washed over him, and his entire demeanor had changed. Where had the seductive and charming Anthony gone? He was here with me just a second ago, but now he was replaced with the strict and rigid, less attractive version. I slumped my shoulders in defeat, accepting that this was the end of our night.


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