Rush (Men of Rapture #1)

by Faye Byrd

  I shake my head to clear the fog and push away from the table. Unclear about my own motives, I take one step and then another, surer this time. Before I can stop myself, I’m hovering over him, my breaths shaky and shallow. His hard gaze doesn’t falter, and it only makes me hotter.

  Swinging my leg over to straddle his lap, I’m caught off guard as he grips my calf. “Did you forget about my wound, doc?” A tipsy smirk curls his lip, and it’s the first welcoming expression he’s worn tonight.

  “Oh, God.” Heat travels up my neck and floods my cheeks as I try to draw away, but he refuses to release me. “I’m sorry. I don’t …”

  He shifts his injured leg to the side and guides me to straddle his other thigh. The apology dies in my throat as I bite back a moan. “None of that,” he murmurs, his rum-scented breath tickling my nose. “Though I’m not sure this is your brightest idea.”

  His voice is rough and scratchy, and I resist the urge to grind against his thigh. “Fuck playing it smart,” I whisper, leaning in to capture his lips, but he stops me only inches away.

  His fingers are rough as they dig into my upper arms. “We shouldn’t do this. You don’t want it,” he rasps, but he doesn’t push me away. “I don’t do this.”

  “I was wrong,” I reply, reaching over and loosening his grip on my arm. “I’m the perfect kind of girl for you.” I lick across his lips, tasting the tang of alcohol that lingers. “I’m not interested in real.”

  “What the fuck’s going on with you?” he asks, searching my face.

  His half-hearted attempt at resistance only adds to the anticipation. The heat in his gaze sends a shiver across my skin. I have an open position, and he’s the ideal man for the job. It’s time I force him to follow through on all his dirty promises. I want no-strings-attached. I want him to devour me.

  We’re the perfect non-pair.

  Uninhibited and unbelievably worked up, I tug his bottom lip between my teeth, which elicits a hiss. I lick over it slowly to soothe the sting before dipping inside. He’s warm and tastes like citrus with a hint of sour from the alcohol. The soft, easy passes of our tongues send electrical sparks prickling across my skin, and I want to live inside his mouth.

  One of his hands anchors around my waist to pull me closer, and the other slips up to cup my cheek as he leans into the kiss. Fisting my pony tail, he twists our heads to take control, and I let him. He dominates our every move, and it’s exactly what I need right now. He’s exactly what I’m looking for—hot and uncomplicated. I’m breathless and needy, and every part of me burns. I’m on fire from the inside, desperate to be quenched.

  I reach for the hem of his tee, my fingers clumsy in their haste to touch his skin, and a moan erupts at the contact, but Rush doesn’t respond in kind. He stiffens, his eyes jumping open as if he’s coming out of a trance. He abruptly breaks the kiss and practically pushes me from his lap.

  “Why are you doing this?” It sounds like a plea as he props his head on his palm, refusing to look at me.

  “I …” I clear my throat and square my shoulders, allowing the anger over his rejection to gain traction. “Why does it matter? Isn’t this what you’ve wanted since we met?”

  “Goddamnit!” He slaps the table, lifting his burning eyes my way. “Of course I want it. I’d have to be an idiot not to, but I’m a shit-faced nobody. You got that? I don’t deserve to breathe the same fucking air as you.”

  “You’re not who gets to decide that,” I snap, rubbing my arms to ward off the sudden chill. “I run my life, and I get to decide who I fuck.”

  He’s on his feet in a split second, barely wincing as he stands to his full height. “Not this time, doc.” I cut my eyes away, but he lifts my chin and forces me to look at his pretty face. “I’m not sure what’s happened since yesterday morning, but this isn’t what you want. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, and I happen to agree. I’m back on my feet, so I’m going to relieve you of your responsibility.” He sticks his hand out, offering me a shake. “You’ve been awesome, doc, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  I throw my hands into the air, frustrated by this infuriating man. “You, the man who fucks anything with a pulse, is sending me on my way? You’re turning me down? You can’t be serious.”

  “I can, and I am.” His hand drops and his face hardens. “You’ll thank me for it if you ever see me again.” He thumbs toward my car. “Now go.”

  I stare at him for another few seconds, torn on whether to push forward or retreat. In the end, I take his advice and high-tail it out of there without another word. I’m not sure if I’m thankful or hurt over this outcome, but the farther away I drive, the more I think it’s for the best.

  Rush has something Justin never had—the power to break me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Springing Back

  RUSH

  As I watch her taillights disappear around the garage, all my bravado fades, and I slump into her vacated chair. I didn’t mean a fucking word I said, but the thought of her hating me tomorrow isn’t something I’m ready to live with. She’ll get over this, the sting of rejection, and thank me later.

  Because there will be a later—there has to be.

  When the doc’s around, things don’t seem quite as bleak. Her visit has cleared my dark and muddled mind. When she didn’t show yesterday, my anger raged, and it sent me spiraling into the abyss. Then I woke this morning and jumped straight into the bottle, only to drink myself into a stupor. Her appearance was instantly sobering, and even with this fucked up interaction, I feel like I can face the night without falling down the rabbit hole again.

  Maybe we really can be friends, something I never thought possible with a woman, but only after she’s gotten over whatever possessed her earlier. My lips still burn from her touch, and I’m not sure how to feel about that shit. It’s my only rule, and she’s already broken it. It goes against everything I am, but it felt so good—so goddamn right.

  But she’s so fucking wrong.

  I can never be what she deserves. She has to realize how hard it was for me to not take advantage. I need her to be the badass chick who’s blown off my every advance. I need her to let me fuck with her, then put me in my place. I need to feel like the game is still on. It settles me in a weird way, and I’m not ready to let that go.

  My stomach grumbles, and my eyes fall to her barely touched plate. Lifting the plastic knife, I slice into her filet mignon. Even cold, the taste is divine. I scarf that shit like it’s the best piece of birthday cake I’ve ever eaten, and then I follow it up with cold garlic mashed potatoes. For a man who’s only had a scrambled egg sandwich since breakfast yesterday, this tastes like my last meal.

  The rest of the night consists of a fantasy-filled warm shower, a ten-minute teeth brushing, a rum nightcap, and finally settling back on the patio with a good old-fashioned joint. My lungs rejoice as they swell with the pungent haze, and my mind becomes a muddled jumble of past and present, old and new, with just enough light to send me into a dreamless sleep.

  It doesn’t last, though, as I wake the next morning feeling empty and dark, so I kick off the day by killing a pint of Wild Turkey. It only goes downhill from there, and I lapse into that same old pattern. Drink myself drunk and keep going until I’m sober again—or pass out—whichever comes first. On and on it goes. The sun rises and sets while I rot in this hell of my own making.

  It’s not like I didn’t love her—I did—and I failed her. I was a stupid, pretentious fuck who didn’t have a care in the world. My life was so cushy I couldn’t comprehend that someone else’s might not be. I pegged her as dramatic and accepted it as a fault, one I could lovingly overlook. It was more than that, so much more, and it cost me her before I could realize it.

  The brisk and unending memories plague me. The fucking liquor no longer numbs as wave after wave of nostalgia beat against me like a battering ram. Climbing from this hole can be just as treacherous as falling in. I’m not sure if it’s hours, d
ays, or weeks, but it’s the snarling of my empty stomach that reaches into the darkness and jerks me back to the surface.

  Drool hangs from my chin, and my mouth tastes like a skunk has crawled inside, had a litter of kits, and the whole family died afterward. I feel weak and hollow, empty after such a bender. My mind is blank, but my body pushes itself to stand on shaky legs.

  I stumble to the shower and allow the hot water to beat me into submission, while simultaneously scrubbing my mouth with a toothbrush. Once I’m clean and warm, on surer legs, I make my way to the kitchen for a familiar routine. The blender whirs, and I don’t even wince as I salivate for the cure to everything that ails me. Not that this will do it, but it’s a fucking start. Scrambled eggs and toast are next—just enough to tame the rumbly growls. I’ll get some wings or something later.

  Closing my eyes, I sigh. I hate this life. I hate who I am, but it’s the only way I know to survive. To live. There’s not another alternative, aside from falling into a pit of hell and never returning. To keep from enduring it, I must avoid it. To avoid it, I have to replace it with something else. Constantly chasing my highs gives me the distraction to ignore the lows.

  To pretend.

  Finding my cell proves to be difficult, but once I have it, an Uber is easy to order. I own a nice little sports car, but it’s parked in the garage, and there’s no way in hell I’m making a trek that far out in the open for my mother to swoop in and corner me. Especially not while I still have a limp for her to badger me over.

  It feels like no time at all before I’m headed to the other side of the tracks, so to speak, and a hum of anticipation starts vibrating through me. This is exactly what I need to get back on track. I’m still not sure how many days I lost to the darkness, but I am sure that Niko’s probably flipping his shit since my Hog never left the lot.

  I tip the driver generously before stepping onto the sidewalk a couple doors down from Rapture. Before entering, I pause to breathe in a deep gust of the polluted air, and it feels fucking good. The sky is overcast and the sun’s close to setting as I pull open the door and give Skunk, the surprised bouncer, a fist bump.

  “Rush, where ya been?” he asks, slapping me across the back with his beefy-ass arm. “It’s good to see ya, man.”

  I plant my feet to keep from being shoved across the room and give him a cocky smile. “It’s good to be back.”

  I’m already shifting focus, looking past him toward the bar. Niko’s there, though he hasn’t noticed me yet, and relief sweeps through me. My Harley wasn’t in the lot where I left it, so all my hopes rest on my bartender friend. I just pray he hasn’t sold her off to a chop shop, thinking I’m rotting in a ditch somewhere.

  He looks up as I’m about three feet away, and his eyes widen. “Holy shit, man. You’re alive.” He rushes to the end of the bar and rounds the corner. “Jesus, I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again.” We do a man shake and brush through a quick hug before he pulls back to get a good look at me. “You look like shit.”

  “Don’t I know it?” I shake my head and chuckle. “Hey, man,” I say with and urgent tap to his shoulder. “My bike. Please tell me you know where she is.”

  “Chill. She’s safe and sound,” he says, holding up his hands. “I didn’t want to keep leaving her in the lot, but I didn’t have the keys, so I called Ace over and had him take it to his shop a few days ago. Skunk can take you over whenever you’re ready.” I visibly relax, slipping onto a stool while Niko returns to the other side of the bar. “What the hell happened? Where the fuck you been?”

  My jaw tightens when I consider the answers to his questions. This is the first time ones like these have been asked, and they enrage me. “Remember that fuckwit the bouncers ejected last time I was here?” At his nod, I continue, “He jumped me in the alley with a knife. Sliced me all up.”

  He slides a shot across the bar top and whistles lowly. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but …” He trails off, and I flip him the bird as he perches his elbows on the bar across from me. “But seriously, that’s some fucked up shit. You wanna press charges? I’ll back you up.”

  “Nah.” I wave it off. “I just want to get back to living. It’s been a rough couple—” I catch myself. “How long has it been?”

  His eyes widen, and they’re asking me if I’m serious, so I nod. “Shit, man. I haven’t seen you in six days.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair as I try to figure out how many days it’s been since I saw the doc. “Four, no three?” I’m having a quiet conversation with myself.

  “So what? You been in the hospital?”

  “No,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.” He leans closer like he’s hanging on my every word.

  “You know the vet across the alley?” I move in and speak lowly like we’re sharing a secret. “I broke in and the doctor lady caught me. She nursed me back to health.”

  “Bullshit,” he says on a cough, turning away to grab a beer for a dark-headed chick down the bar. “Now you’re just making shit up.”

  I shrug, killing my shot and sliding my glass back to him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He chuckles as he twists off the top and passes her the beer before grabbing the bottle of Jack to refill my shot. Prior to now, she was just a blob in my periphery, but all of a sudden, she’s a prospect, a ready and willing woman. Her dark, flirty eyes are beckoning for me to join her, but that familiar buzz is dull. It’s not leaping across my skin and kick-starting my heart. It’s only a faint hum, vibrating through my fingertips, almost making them feel … numb.

  Niko pushes my glass toward me, and I kill it, slamming it down for him to refill while I trail my gaze back to Dark and Mysterious. She’s angled in my direction now and is demonstrating her abilities as she sucks the bottle dry. Niko’s laughter reaches my ears, pulling my attention from the stimulating scene.

  “What?” I shrug as I turn to glare at him, not giving a fuck about the lecture I feel coming.

  “Wasn’t one pissed off boyfriend enough for you?”

  “Apparently not,” I snap, irritated that he’s questioning me and even more irritated because I’m not very into this chick. My cock should be aching right now. “Shit.” I shake my head and down the third shot. “You can’t expect me to quit living. Now, stop obsessing and grab me a beer.”

  He smirks and flips the middle finger. “Don’t come crying to me …”

  I return his smirk before sliding my eyes down the bar at the first notion of movement. She’s off her stool, taking charge and approaching me with an impressive sway of her hips. It’s enticing and I angle toward her, open and accepting of her advance.

  “Hey, sugar,” she purrs, slipping onto the stool beside me. “Care to buy a girl a drink?”

  My gaze burns from her head to her cheap spiked heels before coming back to her hauntingly familiar grayish eyes. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

  I tilt my head to Niko and grab the bottle he placed before me, turning it up. Dark and Not So Mysterious is staring at me like I’m a steak dinner by the time I set down the bottle. Instead of feeling horny, I feel uneasy. She’s practically fucking drooling, all wide-eyed and wolfish, and it’s freaking me out.

  “Take care of the lady,” I say, catching Niko’s eye. “I need to step out for a smoke.”

  She starts to stand. “I’d be glad to accompany ya.”

  I lay my hand on her shoulder, brushing my thumb against her bare collar bone. “Stay: relax: get loose. I promise I won’t be long.”

  Like a good little sure thing, she obeys.

  I head around the bar, brushing off Niko’s questioning look with a small shake of my head. No, I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me, but something is. Things feel off, but at least I feel something. The cool evening air is like a well-deserved slap in the face, and I breathe deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth, as
I slip a smoke between my lips.

  The first toke burns like hell, but it’s in a good way. I kick back against the brick and tilt my eyes to the deep gray sky, watching as the smoke rises only to dissipate in the light breeze. My mind is racing—scattered, conflicted, confused, unsure what the hell could possibly be wrong with the rest of me. Why can’t—

  A door slamming catches me mid-thought, and my eyes jerk open, knowing exactly where the noise came from. She’s there, and my heart slams against my ribcage. The thundering is so loud it drowns out everything else as she squares her shoulders and struts toward me. I press myself even tighter against the brick, terrified of her wrath and so fucking turned on.

  Shit!

  “Rush,” she says with a curt nod.

  “Doc,” I reply, thumbing my smoke. “What brings you to this neighborhood?”

  She rolls her eyes, fighting a smile. “This.” She holds out her hand, and in it is a slip of paper. When I don’t immediately take it, she rattles it like she did those fucking dog scrubs, being all pushy and shit.

  “What’s this?” I ask, eyeing the paper with disdain. It can’t possibly be good. “My doctor's bill?” I raise my brows. “I'll gladly pay it. You take AmEx?” I pass my gaze over her from head to toe. “Your services were impeccable.”

  “Why do you do this?” she asks quietly, her hand falling to her side. “I gave in and you sent me away, yet here you are on our very next encounter, right back to your innuendo. I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Shit.” I slip another smoke between my lips and flick the Zippo to life, inhaling like my very existence depends on it. “I think I want to be friends.”

  She laughs but when I don’t, she coughs it back and lifts her chin. “You don’t have friends who are women,” she says, doing a poor impression of mimicking me.

  I take another draw, blowing out a plume of thick smoke. “There’s a first time for everything.”