Part 12

Can’t Fight This Feeling

It was hard for Miranda to not look at the way his lips were just right. If he had been a woman, he could have been a lipstick model. They were a deep pink, not too large, not too small, not dry and not overly wet. They were just perfect. Once in a while his teeth would grate over the top one, then the bottom. He would suck on them just long enough to make them impeccably moist, then raise his sleek Cuban cigar to them, puffing a few times and then letting a stream of thick smoke seep out slowly.

Nick’s eyes were heavy with drink and whatever else he was one. Miranda could see that. It was just his amazing good looks that kept her watching him, sitting here listening to the way he and Carlos would ramble about people and places she had never heard of and really could care less about. What she could care about were those hands. The way they always seemed to try to occupy themselves, moving a drink straw in and out of their fingers, holding an ice cube, touching the side of a sweating cocktail. Once in a while, he’d look at her drowsily and grin, a bit on the cocky side, knowing that she was watching him. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t notice that she wasn’t the only one watching. It was so hard not to. He was simply put, beautiful.

Carlos must have mentioned him…sometime….in one of their chats. But she had been immersed in problems much too far away.

Miranda hadn’t been intrigued by a person like this in a long time. Not since before the fire.

*****

They were both sitting on bar stools now. Carlos had gone across the lounge to talk to a pretty little thing in a halter top. He hardly said a word, he’d only smile every so often, looking around, breathing in the crowd, taking a shot every now and then. His eyes got foggier and foggier, closing more and more. Miranda feared that even if he were to say something it would be unintelligible.

He looked lost. Just like her.

It was beginning to be unbearable for Nick. He had to move or he was going to fall down right there, numb on the floor. He looked at the small girl who sat before him and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head knowingly but she was smiling.

She was flirting, wasn’t she? She wanted him, she’d been eyeing him all night. Any other night, Nick would be beyond sexual performance. But this girl? She made him hot. She was different than the others. She would be a country conquered. A large notch on his bed post. He was drunk, but he could still be smooth.

He touched a warm hand to hers. “Dance?” If he stuck to mono-syllables he wouldn’t screw up.

“You think you can do that, there, big boy?” Ha! Big boy, she had called him that, hadn’t she? She was totally flirting with him. She was hot for him.

He stood up and swayed toward her. Randa stood up and put her hands to his chest, assisting in keeping him steady. He put his nose on top of her head and slid his arms underneath hers. He ran his hand up the middle of her back, up her neck, up the base of her scalp and into her dark silk hair. Nick lifted it sloppily to his nose and took in the scent and giggled. He nuzzled her hair and put his nose to her ear. “You smell good. I wanna taste you.” His breath was hot.

Randa quivered. Why hadn’t she slapped him yet? She was letting him treat her like a piece of meat.

She took his hand into her own and pulled it sideways. He leaned back just a bit but kept his other hand holding onto her. “You think you can walk to the dance floor?” Nick cocked a smile, an extremely drunk smile, and blinked his eyes. “I guess that’s a ‘yes’”. Randa told him and begin to lead him.

Nick walked slowly, holding onto the small girl’s waist. Every so often his hands would sneak upward towards her breasts and she would slap them down. When they finally got to the center of the sweaty, hot, crowded dance floor, she figured that for now, resistance was futile. There was no stopping him.

What Nick was doing could hardly be called dancing at all. It was more of a dry-hump type of her holding him up. And the lips. Those perfect lips she had been admiring all night were now all over her. Her ears, her neck, between her cleavage. The man was extremely excited, to say the least, pressing his groin against her. His hands were everywhere, underneath her shirt, all over her arms, on her neck, in her hair.

Randa wasn’t exactly sure what to do. She hardly knew this guy. All she knew was that he was hot, and was some type of lost soul. Could she give herself up to him? Her first night out since her world had fallen apart. The first man she had come into contact with after her love had passed into whatever it was that people passed into when they died. It wasn’t that Miranda was looking for marriage…but this guy? Would he be worth it? It wasn’t like her to do the whole one night stand thing.

His breathy drunk voice broke her out of her thoughts. Nick’s hand was on her backside and he was pressing himself into her, fairly gently, which surprised Randa. “Let’s get out of here.” He said. He very lightly lined her ear with his tongue as he waited for her response. Randa didn’t respond though…she just closed her eyes. What was it about him? She hardly knew him. Why was her stomach jumping around like this? Why the hell did his body feel so damn good?

Nick took her non-answer to be a yes. As he spoke, his wet lips moved against her ear once more. “I’m gonna fuck you until you feel real. Is your pussy ready for me?”

Suddenly Miranda snapped out of it. She could give a rats ass who or what he was, how he made her body feel, how beautiful his eyes or hands were…

Miranda slapped Nick Carter square across the face on the middle of the dance floor. He grabbed his cheek dejectedly and looked at the ground. “Fuck you. You are a disgusting loser.”

Nick was angry now. Angry because he was embarrassed and ashamed and worst of all, he was sober. How could he have gotten so sober so quickly? He raised his head and looked at the small girl. She was so pretty, obviously so sweet and real already. Why had he done that? His eyes darted from one side to another.

He didn’t need this. Nick pursed his lips and looked at her, looked through her really. He flared his nostrils.

Randa wondered if his eyes would turn red in a moment. But they didn’t. He just turned and stumbled away.

Miranda pushed through the crowd and went into the damp evening air, hailed a taxi and jumped in the back seat. She watched the people on the street. They were all happy and smiling and so alive inside. He had been making her feel alive, she had to admit that. And he had gone and ruined it. One lone tear seeped onto Miranda’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly. That would be the only tear she’d shed over that cocky bastard. Whoever he was….

*****

People were looking at him. Probably because he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. Or maybe because he was singing.

He wanted to get away from their eyes. He heard the sound of the ocean. Nick wanted to go home, to the water, to the beach. He wanted his feet on the sand.

When he got there, he started to be distinctly aware of the footsteps behind him.

When the first blow came to his back he felt the piercing pain and fell to his knees. As the three men continued to kick and beat and punch him, he was glad he was so drunk because it had made him numb. When his beating was over, the men stole all his money, spit on him, and kicked him in the ribs once more. Nick shouted in pain that he suddenly felt, over every inch of him. He was aware now that his face was bleeding. He saw the contrast of the dark brown blood on the clean white sand.

*****

I wanted to go to him right then. But the force of the Father held me back. He would have to work this out on his own. He would have to repair these mistakes himself.

*****

Somehow, just after the sun came up, Nick had the strength to drag himself back to the hotel. It was only just down the street. There were few people in the lobby and he limped, holding his side beneath the torn bloody shirt and keeping his head down. The concierge must have recognized him and just let him go up to his room unbothered.

He didn’t even make it to a bed once he got to his room. He just collapsed on the plush carpet and slept there all day.