Physical Touch (18 page)

Mitch was used to waiting for women to get ready for dates.
And they always made him wait. His mother had schooled him on never rushing a woman when she was getting ready. It was like telling Picasso or Rembrandt to “just throw some paint on the canvas and move on,” she’d say. “You can’t rush perfection.” So he learned to bide his time, have a drink and wait patiently. 

When Rylie emerged from her guestroom promptly at seven-thirty, he was more than a little surprised. She was not only on time, but the very definition of perfection. He was thrown off balance even more so as she walked toward him, her long, tanned bare legs heightened further by silver strapped three-inch heels. The hem of her dress came up well above her knees, displaying a beautiful pair of toned gams. Her lush, silky brown hair fell in thick waves down her back, displaying two glittery hoops dangling from her ears. Her dress was a one-shouldered, silver sequined cut-out mini-dress that hugged her body and every luscious curve from her shoulder to her thigh. 

His mouth went dry, as his first thought was whether she was panty-less beneath the form-fitting material. His jaw dropped as she stopped in front of him and pirouetted, giving him a 360-degree view of her mouth-watering body. His hands reached out, stopping her movement, as he traced the cut-out on the back of the dress, which exposed the side of her waist and a hint of her toned oblique. 

All his plans to go out for the evening completely vanished from his thoughts, as he considered the fastest means of getting her out of that dress and into his bed. 

“Well?” she asked, hands on hips. “Is there some sort of rating scale for this sort of attire? It’s not exactly my normal look, so it would be helpful to know where I fall on the one-to-ten scale.”

There was no scale where she was concerned. She crushed it. She was out of the fucking ballpark. “Rylie – you are off the fucking charts. You are absolutely…stunning. Holy shit, I can’t even breathe. I think I need to sit down before I pass out.” 

She laughed and shoved him lightly in the chest, as he mockingly fanning himself and then took her wrist, pulling her into his body.

“I hope you brought some extra lipstick with you.” 

Before she could ask why, he took possession of her mouth, quickly parting her lips and finding entrance to her hot warmth. His lips left hers suddenly, Rylie pouting in response.  “I won’t be able to keep my mouth off of yours tonight, so you may have to reapply a few times.” 

She smiled against his mouth and her hands wrapped around his back, moving lower to cup his ass
to give him a hard squeeze. 

“As long as I can do this to you every time you kiss me, I’m good. I have to admit, I’ve wanted to do that since the very first time you came into the clinic,” she said huskily. 

“Oh really?”

She blushed, her teeth gripping her bottom lip. The one he wanted to bite and suck on while he was buried deep inside her.

“Yeah. You have a really nice ass, Mr. Camden.”

“Well, by all means then, carry on. My ass is at your disposal day or night. I will, however, hold you to that promise
and I’ll expect these hands on my ass later.” He chuckled, grabbing her hand and leading her out the door to the car. 

The party was in full swing as they entered Pearl Champagne Lounge in Miami Beach. Mitch escorted Rylie into the violet lighted club, watching her eyes light up as they made their way past the chic, all-white décor and crystal chandeliers, toward the private VIP room and wrap-around terrace overlooking the Atlantic. Go-Go dancing waitresses dressed in crystal encrusted bikini tops, tiny satin white booty shorts and feathered head dresses, gracefully weaved through the guests, passing around hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes to the hundreds of party goers. 

Mitch grabbed two glasses from the tray, handing one to Rylie. She saluted him her thanks, as they continued to make their way through the throngs of revelers, on their way out the doors. 

The music was loud, a thumping mix of techno and hip-hop, and a parade of beautiful, scantily clad women made their way around the lounge. One stopped in front of Mitch, giving him a jiggle of her breasts and then grabbing his crotch. He politely, but assertively, removed her hand from his groin and laughed. 

“You never know what you’re going to get in Miami.”  His eyes moved to Rylie’s face, watching her eyes sparkle in the neon lights. Her dress caught the flashing strobe lights and glittered an ethereal glow. An angel in his midst.

Mitch continued to watch Rylie as she scanned the room and party, her face telling him without words what she was thinking. The party had a burlesque vibe, a little raunchy and over-the-top. He wondered if she’d ever been to anything like this before.  Recalling their conversation from earlier, he highly doubted it. He was in awe over the innocence she still possessed. She wasn’t a virgin, but with such limited
encounters, she didn’t have much experience. It only heightened Mitch’s desire to guide and instruct her on what she might find pleasurable, and how to pleasure him. She seemed reserved, but willing to explore, which had his lust spiking even higher. He promised himself he’d take his time and not rush things, leaving it to her to make the next move and avoid any potential regrets on her end. But once she gave him the go-ahead, it was going to be full-throttle, no going back.  

Removing the champagne glass from her hand and placing it on the table, Mitch led her out onto the crowded dance floor. The music, which had been a thumping techno beat, had now slowed down to a smooth, sexy rhythm, perfect for slow dancing.

Rylie looked up into his eyes warily. “Mitch, I don’t dance. I have no rhythm and I’m not exactly graceful. I’m like a giraffe in a ballet.”

He smiled silently at her self-deprecating description, but just pulled her close so that the top of her head fit underneath his chin. He gathered her arms, bringing one up to his shoulder and the other nestled in his palm. His other hand wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her in snugly to his chest. He breathed in the sweet scent of her shampoo and felt her breathing even out against him.

They swayed to the music, Mitch lost in the sensation of their bodies moving together, fitting perfectly with one another. He could feel her heartbeat and her pulse, which beat wildly against his heart. It felt good, holding her in his arms like this. He wanted this woman with every cell of his being. Not just sexually, although that was predominantly how it started. There was something else about her that called to him, spoke to his soul. Captured his attention and drove his mind to distraction.

“Can I ask you something?” Rylie whispered, bending her head back to look into Mitch’s eyes.

Mitch shook his head, taken out of his reverie. “Of course.”

“Do you wine and dine all the women you date like this?”

Shit. Truth be told, he didn’t. He’d honestly not had to go through the trouble with other women. Sure, he treated them with respect and showed them a good time. But had he ever gone to the same lengths to attract a woman before like he was doing now with Rylie? The answer was no. She was a first. A beautiful challenge.

“Do you think this is a date?” he teased, but the look on her face had him bursting out in hysterics. It was a cross between sheer embarrassment and terror.

Trying to back pedal, she said, “I didn’t mean to imply this was a date, or anything. Well, I don’t know…I guess it does feel a little like a date. Oh God. I feel so stupid now.” She bent her head in shame. He had to put the poor girl out of her misery.

Placing his hand underneath her chin, he gently lifted her face back up to him. “Hey, I’m just messing with you. I would definitely consider this a date. And no, I don’t pull out all the stops with just anyone. You are special, Rylie. Beyond incredible and I’m honored you’re here with me, even though I did have to coe
rce you to come to Miami.”

There was no place in the world he’d rather be than right there with her in his arms at this moment. He bent his head to hers, dropping his mouth to hers, touching her plump, kissable mouth to his lips. Brushing gently at first, reveling in the softness, the sweetness, the feel of his lips and tongue dancing with hers. She was delectable and his body wanted more. He had to pull apart before he couldn’t stop.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, breathing hard.

“Yes.”

Sweeping her off the dance floor, Mitch’s head turned at the sound of a loud commotion. A group of people, who seemed to be looking around in confusion, seemed to part, making a path for whatever or whomever was coming out their way. For some reason, Mitch felt his stomach clench and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, at the same moment he got a clear view of Tully making his way through the crowd.  Behind him were two uniformed Miami Metro police officers. Instinctively, Mitch put his arm around Rylie’s waist and pulled her close. 

Tully’s eye flashed to Mitch’s and then zeroed in on Rylie.

“There she is! That’s the one,” Tully yelled, pointing a bandaged hand directly at Rylie, who was standing in his path looking dazed and confused. “Officers, that’s the woman who assaulted me today. I want her arrested.”

The two officers looked at one another briefly and then down to Tully, who was a full head shorter than they were. The Latino officer, who was on the left, spoke to Tully calmly and with authority.

“Sir? Are you saying this woman here,” pointing again to Rylie, who had yet to move and whose expression had shock and horror written all over it. “…that this young woman assaulted you today, broke your hand and your ribs and beat up your face?” The officer shook his head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of damage for one female to do to a…
man
.” The officer hesitated momentarily, a smirk toying at his lips, waiting for his words to sink in. The other officer had to turn his head away, the grin and mirth on his face too revealing.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And I have witnesses that will corroborate my story. Now do your fucking job and arrest her!” 

Mitch stepped in front of Rylie, his arm going around his back to protectively move her behind him. He took two steps forward.

“Excuse me, officers. My name is Mitch Camden,” he stated, handing one of the officers his business card. “I was a witness today at the restaurant. I’m not sure what exactly Mr. Tully has told you happened or who really is to blame for all that bodily damage, but let me assure you, it was not Rylie
Hemmons.” He gave Tully a disgusted look.

Tully twitched and squirmed, looking like a toddler preparing for a full tantrum. “That is not true! Mitch was not there today. He’s lying.”

Mitch wanted to reach out and grab Tully by the neck and cut off his air supply. What a prick. How did he not see this before now? 

Mitch cocked his head to the side. “
Really
, Tull? What the fuck are you trying to pull here? I was there and heard exactly what went down at the end of your lunch today.  I was standing just outside on the deck and heard Rylie assert not just once, but twice, asking you to get your fucking hands off of her. She specifically warned you that she would break your fingers if you didn’t. And when you didn’t respectfully comply, and continued to grope her, she did what most women wouldn’t have the guts to do. She broke your finger and then calmly walked away.” 

Mitch looked up at the two officers and stated matter-of-factly. “Rylie did not do anything other than defend herself against this asshole’s molesting hands.”

The officers looked from Mitch, to Rylie and then back again to Tully. One took out a notepad and asked Rylie to step over with him so he could get her statement. The other pulled Tully aside. Mitch listened in as he gave Tully the riot act.

“Mr. Tully, if this is true, and your so-called witnesses testify to what Mr. Camden just recounted, it seems to me that Ms.
Hemmons had every right to fend you off.  If I were you, Mr. Tully, I’d drop this bullshit now, because it’s not only a waste of our time, but it’s making you look like a world-class pussy.”

Tully stood there fuming, his hands bunched up in fists and his face in a tight and angry expression. Mitch watched him turn around and stomp off and out of the party. 

The Latino officer, Lieutenant Lopez, came back over to speak with Mitch. “I don’t know about you, but I’d have to say that guy has a Little Man’s complex,” he chuckled, taking his notepad to scribble some additional notes. “You apparently know him well?”

Mitch rubbed
his hand over his face. “Yeah, at least I thought I did. I’ve been doing business with the guy for years, but I’ve never seen him act like this.” Mitch turned his concern back over to Rylie, as he noticed the other officer was just wrapping up his questions with her. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Depending on the information Ms.
Hemmons provides us, and if she chooses to press charges, we will investigate it further. I’m thinking Mr. Tully will drop his charges. He’s obviously pissed about being beat up and wanted someone to blame other than himself.”  

Rylie and the second officer returned to join Mitch and Lieutenant Lopez. Rylie appeared shaken up, but no worse for wear, her face wearing a confounded expression. Mitch put his
arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She smiled a weary smile as she took the business card the officer handed her.