As I came down from my orgasm, panting and sweating, my hair sticking to my face, the anxiety I felt moments before began to resurface.
What if someone saw us? The thought swirled in my head as he pulled out of me and adjusted his pants.
I did the same; arranging my skirt and shirt back to their original position and smoothed my sweaty mass of hair into some semblance of normal.
“Wow,” he muttered as he stood before me. “I’ve never done that before.”
I found that hard to believe, with as many groupies and women who threw themselves at rock stars but I didn’t dispute what he said.
“Neither have I.” It was the truth for me. I didn’t lose control like this. Ever.
“I’m Rhys. Rhys Beckett. My band Weighted Armor is on tour on the east coast for the next few months.”
I didn’t know what to say to him being so out of my element. He seemed nice enough, but I didn’t really want to know anything about him. I wanted to escape from the alley and forget that we ever met.
“I’m Natalie Livingston.” I heard myself say on autopilot. I almost stuck my hand out for him to shake as if he were a business acquaintance. The whole thing was so awkward and surreal.
“Maybe I can get your number and call you when I come back into town in two months?” He asked me as I was digging in my clutch for my phone to see if the driver had tried to call me.
“Uh, sure.” I didn’t want him to call me.
“Do you have a pen?” He held out his hand so I could write my number on it.
I reached back into my clutch and pulled out a pen, cursing myself for being so organized and practical with the things I packed in my purse. Scribbling quickly, I wrote my cell number, ignoring the urge to give him a fake number. I didn’t like to play games and I had a feeling he wouldn’t call anyway so it didn’t matter if I gave him my real number. Rhys was being polite because he just fucked me in an alley.
“Cool,” he said looking at his hand where my number was scrawled in black pen.
I turned to leave but felt a hand close over my bicep and pull me around. My heart sped up again as I landed square against his chest, the front of me flush against the front of him.
“This was great.” He murmured the words against my mouth and the urge to kiss him again made me close my eyes.
I didn’t understand why he was affecting me this way when we had just met moments before and I wanted nothing more than to flee the damn alley and go home.
“Yeah,” I responded, so quietly I wasn’t sure if he heard me.
I wasn’t lying; though it was rushed and frantic it was the best sex I ever had.
“I’ll call you, Natalie.” He didn’t wait for me to respond before pressing a rough kiss to my lips.
I kissed him back, the same desire I felt before flaring to life again. By the time he pulled away from me and turned to the door to head back inside I was panting. We didn’t exchange anymore words after that. Rhys Beckett headed back into the building and I stood, unable to move, gasping for air in the alley.
After a few minutes, I gathered myself together, smoothing my clothes and hair before exiting the alleyway. Back on the sidewalk, the lights surrounding the stadium were blinding and I squinted as I searched the curb for my car. I released a long breath of relief as I saw the car my father sent a few feet down the sidewalk. With haste, I made my way to where it was parked and scrambled inside before the driver could get out to open the door.
“Take me home please, Erik.” My voice sounded hoarse and strained and I winced as I spoke.
“Certainly, Ms. Livingston.”
I looked out the window at the Garden and the mystery man hiding in the shadows as we pulled away. Relief and regret swamped me as we drove away because I was glad the night was over but knew my encounter with Rhys Beckett wouldn’t leave me without scars.
There are so many people to thank but I’ll keep it short and sweet.
Thank you Tiffany Black, Jenn Wood, and several Bookstagramers and bloggers who took a chance on a debut author and designed, edited and read/reviewed my book baby, as well as the countless others who I’ve asked questions about writing, marketing and everything else involved with being an Indie author.
Thanks to my girls (you know who you are!) for reading my book with excitement and encouraging me to finally take the leap to publish. Thank you to my family for instilling in me the love of books and reading.
Finally, last but certainly not least, a million thanks to my husband for being not only the inspiration for my love stories but also the one who believed in me enough to read them, help me edit them, and thousands of other things that pushed and led me to be able to get to the publishing stage. Love you, Babe!
I have always been a voracious reader. The first full-length novel I read at the tender age of 6 was The Secret Garden. After that, I was hooked and read everything I could get my hands on. I love thrillers, contemporary, historical but most of all, romance. Romance is where my heart has always been, pun intended.
In addition to my love of reading, I developed a desire to write. I started writing when I was a little girl, wanting to craft and weave the same stories that I loved to read so much. Over time, my stories evolved from stories about friendship and childish things to those about love and romance. I knew when I started writing again as an adult, five years ago, that romance was what I wanted to write.
I started as a ghostwriter and did that for four years, while also writing on my own and hoping to publish something myself some day. Finally, this year, I decided to jump in with both feet and start the process of writing and publishing my own novel. I hope you’ll come along for the ride and fall in love along the way, just as I have with writing.
Connect with me!
Victoriajbest.com
One Night Page 30