REX (Finding Love)

by Beth Michele

  “And yet another reason.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he trudges down the stairs in front of me.

  “So, where are we going anyway?” I ask as we head outside, waiting for his lead in terms of direction.

  “We’re gonna take a taxi uptown to the Open Door Lounge.” He leans over the curb with his finger in the air, attempting to hail a cab as they speed by us. Of course, they’re all full.

  “Why are we taking a cab anyway? Why didn’t you just have your driver wait for us?” If we have a chance to travel in style, I don’t understand why my brother consistently turns that down.

  A cab finally screeches to a halt in front of us, and he holds the door open for me to climb in first. “You know, Rex, I don’t know if you’ll understand this or not, but sometimes I just want to feel like a normal person.”

  “Whatever, bro, but I feel like a normal person all the time, so for me it would be a nice change of pace.” I laugh, and he smiles, shutting the door behind us.

  “So, how are things with you and the porn queen?” I tease, his lips flattening into a straight line. The driver speeds off, both of us thrown back against the seat.

  Gotta love New York City taxis.

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that. You know that’s not what she does,” he replies, annoyed. But as far as I’m concerned, Hunter hit the jackpot—falling for an erotic romance author. I should only be so lucky.

  “Well, it’s close enough.” I pull a pack of gum from my pocket and peel the wrapper open, holding a piece out to Hunter. “Gum?”

  He pushes it away with his hand before responding to my wiseass remark. “She doesn’t act in porn, she writes erotic novels. There is a difference.”

  “Whatever you say, bro, whatever you say.”

  The line to get into the club is wrapped around the block when we arrive. “Do you see them?” I ask, and he steps out of line to check for Olivia and her friend.

  “No, but I’m going to text her. They’re probably already inside.” He plucks his cell phone from his jeans and slides open the screen. After a minute, a grin spreads clear across his face. “Yeah, they’re inside,” he says, and I’m not even going to ask what that’s about. “Sit tight, I’m going to see what I can do about bypassing this line.”

  Music filters out from the club and I tap a lazy foot against the sidewalk as I wait for Hunter. My eyes roll over all the hot females. There are some real lookers here, and I’m keeping every body part crossed that Olivia’s friend is my type. If she’s anything like my brother’s girl, I’ll have hit the motherload.

  Not more than five minutes later, Hunter is walking toward me with a satisfied smile. “We’re in. Let’s go.”

  “What’d you do?” I follow behind him. “Slip him some cash?”

  “Something like that,” he mumbles, weaving through a now irritated hoard of people. Someone curses at us as we walk by, but I ignore it. Being Hunter’s brother has certain advantages. This just happens to be one of them.

  “Normal guy, my ass.” I chuckle, and he raises a shameless brow.

  The music is thumping when we step inside, the smell of smoke and sweat assaulting my senses, and I breathe it in, instantly relaxing. Bright blasts of multi-colored light mix with blackness, illuminating drunken faces and clinking glasses. My shoes stick to the floor, the beat pulsing thunderously under my feet as we push our way through the crowd.

  Hunter raises a hand in the air and smiles, obviously catching sight of Olivia. I’m not really one for being soft, but she’s really good for him and a welcome change from the women he’s been with over the years—money-hungry, spoiled, self-serving brats.

  As we get closer, my eyes rove over the long blonde waves of the chick sitting next to her. A sexy, exposed back also draws my attention. That must be my date for the evening. As long as her name isn’t Diane, I’m all in.

  Hunter grabs Olivia, smacking his lips against hers as if he hasn’t seen her for a month. It makes me want to gag. “Hi, sweetheart.” He kisses her again, this time with his tongue before grasping her ass.

  “Okay, why don’t you guys get a room,” I suggest, and Olivia grins, while Hunter tosses me a death stare. The girl next to her pivots around on the stool and the world is suddenly spinning on its axis. “You’ve got to be shitting me?” I exclaim. “Blondie?”

  “You’re kidding me?” She turns away, scowling, clearly not happy about her new nickname. A second later, her gaze falls back on Olivia. “This is Hunter’s brother? This is the guy I was telling you about at the café.”

  I grin, pleased that I was a topic of conversation. “You were talking about me?” I wink, and she frowns, the tension in her jaw palpable.

  Hunter’s eyes dart back and forth from me to her, and I realize I don’t even know her name. “Wait a minute, you two know one another?” He rubs his chin, his brows taking a dive.

  “Kind of.” I stare at the grimace on her face. “She came into the shop last night.”

  Olivia breaks out into laughter, but she and I are the only ones who seem to find this situation funny. Blondie is eyeing her like she wants to rip her hair out. She’s almost scary.

  “Come on, Hunter.” Olivia pulls him toward the dance floor. “Let them duke it out. I want to dance with you.” He willingly follows behind, leaving the two of us alone.

  “So?” She drops her hands to her sides, mouth still pulling down on that pretty face of hers.

  “So?” I mimic, letting my eyes travel the length of her body. The dress she’s wearing molds to her in just the way that I like—revealing everything: the smooth angle of her hips, firm breasts, and long, toned legs. I smile, thinking about getting off last night, those pale blue eyes boring into me.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks, her gaze narrowed. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.

  “Nothing. Can I buy you a drink, Blondie?”

  With fire in her eyes, she fists her hands on her hips, staring me down. God, she’s sexy as hell when she’s angry. “My name is Vanessa. Are you going to stop calling me Blondie?”

  “I don’t know, Blondie.” I grin wickedly. “Are you going to let me buy you a drink?”

  And finally a smile.

  “You know….” I step closer to her, itching to tangle my hands in those golden strands. I don’t touch her, but get close enough to inhale the fresh scent of her perfume. She smells fucking good. “Being a bitch doesn’t suit you.”

  “Excuse me? You don’t know the first thing about me,” she snaps, and I’m near enough that I can feel her breath blowing on my lips, so close I could probably kiss her. Not a good idea though since she might sprout claws any minute.

  “It’s not who you are, it’s a mask you hide behind, to hide whatever’s cut you so deep. How do I know that? Because I do the same God damn thing.”

  And then I take a step back.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I slipped. I’m not that guy—the cuddly, sharing type. But I see myself when I look at her, and for some reason, I want her to know that I understand.

  There’s a flicker in her eyes, maybe surprise that I can read her so well. A small smile tugs at her lips as she glances downward and something inside me feels victorious, as if I’ve chipped away at a tiny piece of her armor.

  “Okay,” she submits, finally. “I’ll have a rum and coke.”

  I nod, and sandwich my way between two customers at the bar, ordering her drink and a beer for myself. I’ve never been a heavy drinker and I don’t do hard liquor. Probably because I saw the damage it did to my mother, and I don’t want to end up like her.

  Turning around, I grab our drinks and gesture toward a table in the corner. I let Blondie go ahead of me, taking in the slope of her back in that low-cut dress that fits like it was made for her.

  “I can feel you staring at me.”

  There’s not a hint of defensiveness in her response. In fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. She takes a seat, a subtle smile playing on her lips as I place
our drinks on the table.

  “Well,” I reply, “you’re a stunner. There’s a lot to stare at.” Her cheeks flush pink in response and she quickly lifts her drink to her mouth. “So… you left Ryder’s bar last night pretty abruptly.”

  She shrugs, setting her drink down and swirling the ice around with her finger. “There wasn’t anything else to say.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” I take a long pull of my beer. “There’s always more to say. What’s your story?”

  She raises her eyes to mine in question. “My story?”

  “Yeah, your story. Everyone’s got one. As a tattoo artist, I hear people’s stories every day. So, what’s yours?” I lean back in the chair, arms folded across my chest.

  “I don’t have a story.” She casts her gaze to a group of people at a nearby table.

  “Bullshit.” I scrutinize her as if she’s a specimen I’m trying to dissect. “Your eyes say something completely different.”

  She’s quiet for a few minutes before her gaze settles on me again and she heaves out a hard sigh. “The bitch thing is hereditary.”

  “Ah, from your dad,” I tease, and she actually laughs. It’s light and airy, carefree, the total opposite of how she presents herself.

  “Yeah, when he wore dresses it came out the most.” She smiles, and that’s when I notice the way one side of her mouth lifts a tiny bit higher than the other as she does.

  Her gleam fades and she pauses, staring into her glass before continuing. “My mom is a first-class bitch. So let’s just say I learned from the best. She’s one of the hardest women I’ve ever met: cold, condescending, judgmental.”

  “I’ve got one of those, too. And you want to know the irony?” I shake my head on a laugh. “She writes bestselling romance novels, sappy, happy ending shit. Yet she’s as cold as ice.”

  Raising the drink to her lips, she swallows it down hard. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Likewise.” I clink my bottle against her glass just before she polishes it off, slamming it on the table. “To shitty mothers,” I salute, picking her glass back up, the ice clinking around at the bottom. “You want another?”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asks, but she’s smiling when she says it.

  “Oh, believe me, I want you sober.” My gaze sails down to her tits, then lower, to discover her thighs shifting on the chair. She’s affected by me.

  Good to know.

  I move my chair closer, our arms nearly touching. “So, how do you know Ryder?”

  Her eyes rake over my face and land on my lips. They linger a beat before returning to my stare. “Um, we’ve been friends for several years. I’m a manager for an event company and we ended up meeting at a charity ball I organized years ago. Ryder has the warehouse also, so he supplies liquor for the events. He’s been a really good friend to me.”

  “So, you’re from New York then?” I ask, and something shifts in her eyes again.

  “No, I’m originally from Seattle but moved here eight years ago. What about you?” Her stare once again wanders to my mouth then slides back up.

  “I’m from Harrison, a suburb just outside of New York City, but moved to Boston to go to college and ended up staying there until six months ago when I moved back.” My gaze drops to her full lips, and I can’t help wondering what she tastes like. I bet she’s so fucking sweet.

  And now I’m done with the small talk.

  “Do you want to dance?” I hold out my hand hoping she’ll take it, and I’ve won yet another battle when she does.

  As she slips her hand into mine, my thumb involuntarily skims across the top of it, skin bristling at how smooth she is. I bet she’s smooth everywhere and my dick jumps at the thought. I’d love to see how smooth her thighs are as I’m spreading her open on my bed.

  We plow through the crowd to the dance floor that’s packed with people gyrating, rubbing against one another shamelessly. I snake my arms around Vanessa’s waist and she loops hers around my neck, our faces only inches apart. Every part of our bodies connects as she melts into me, swaying to the slow, sultry rhythm. Lights are flashing, swarms of people grinding all around us. We get bumped from behind and I grasp her hips, my erection pressing into her. She raises her eyes to meet mine, piercing me with a stare that nearly has me carrying her to a back room and fucking her.

  She leans in, her breath hot against my ear, shouting, “I like your ink!” And my skin tingles as she runs her nail along the lines of the tattoo on my neck. When she backs away and her eyes find mine again, they are dotted with heat. “It’s beautiful,” she says, staring at my mouth. The rum on her breath urges me closer and I want to taste it from her lips. I want to explore her mouth, flick my tongue against her warmth, drag it down her body until she’s writhing beneath me.

  Her head comes to rest against my chin, my fingers inching up her flesh, massaging her in slow circles. She shivers, prompting me to splay my other hand across her lower back, pressing her tight against me. I know she feels my arousal, it’s practically bursting from my zipper.

  We stay like this, song after song. The music continues to pound around us, the crowd falling away. Her scent is intoxicating, sweat and something fruity radiating from her skin, taunting me, until I can’t take it anymore.

  I bring my lips to her ear, whispering, “I want you to come home with me tonight.”

  She raises her head, awareness shading her eyes. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I think you want me as much as I want you.” I lean down, brushing my lips against hers. She’s so God damn soft. “Don’t you?”

  She hesitates, and for a second I wonder if I’m wrong. “Yes,” she finally breathes out, before pulling my lips back down to hers, taking what she wants. And I fucking want to give it.

  Her lips part and I slip inside her warm mouth, our tongues sliding against one another, the sweet taste of rum flowing between us. She tastes even better than I imagined and I can’t resist deepening the kiss, her fingers responding by cinching the fabric of my shirt as she rubs her firm tits across my chest. Desire rips through me, and she moans when I grip her ass, grinding against her. I break the kiss with a loud pop, both of us breathing hot and heavy.

  “You ready?”

  She nods, and I take her hand to lead her off the dance floor. “Wait.” She stops abruptly. “What about Olivia and Hunter? I need to let her know I’m leaving.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I yank my cell phone out and shoot Hunter a quick text. “All set. Now let’s go.”

  We weave our way outside and wait by the curb to grab a taxi. When I glance over at Vanessa, she’s flipping her hair around her finger, lip caught between her teeth.

  “You anxious, Blondie?” I whisper in her ear, grazing the shell with my tongue. She takes a hard swallow and nods her head.

  “Good. I want you anxious.”

  His breath in my ear makes me hot all over and he smells heavenly, like sandalwood and man. All man. God, he has absolutely no idea how anxious I am. I’m ready to rip his clothes off right here. That’s how badly I want him. He’s so ridiculously sexy. That dark brown hair. Those bourbon-colored eyes. Lips that felt perfect moving against mine. And his muscled body that I want to run my tongue over. I’m trying to shut my mind off, but it’s impossible. Even when he was pissing me off at the bar, there was no denying my attraction for him.

  I don’t know why I told him anything about my mother, though. I’m usually very close-lipped about my personal life and my family history. Olivia has been witness to that over the past eight years. Although, she’s always been the only one who could pry it out of me. The fact that I was so transparent to him made me feel off-balance. But when I saw understanding in his eyes, it was the first time I felt like somebody really got me.

  I’m pressing my legs together as we wait for the taxi. My panties are already wet and if his tongue comes anywhere near me again, they just might combust. Luckily, the taxi pulls up and we climb inside.


  After giving the driver his address, he slides next to me, hooking an arm over my shoulder. His other hand finds its way to my leg, and I shiver when his finger lightly sketches patterns on my bare knee. I can’t think straight. My brain is short-circuiting, lost in a haze of lust, so turned on I’d be willing to have him take me right here. Yes, right in the back seat of this filthy taxi. The thought actually turns me on more.

  I subtly open my legs, hoping he might take the hint and move his hand where I really need it. Instead, he continues to drive me crazy with his calloused finger circling just above my knee.

  His warm breath fans my neck, and I bite back the noise that wants to escape when his tongue makes contact with that sensitive spot behind my ear. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, “and I bet you’re already wet for me.”

  “Beyond wet,” I whisper back, not wanting the taxi driver to hear and think that I’m a sex-crazed freak, even though I feel like one.

  Rex inhales a jagged breath, his hand finally wandering higher up my thigh. “I can’t wait until my tongue can find out just how much,” he says quietly. And when I glance up at him, his eyes denote a hunger that lights a flame inside of me. One that’s been buried for quite some time.

  I press my lips together, staring out the window in an attempt to distract myself. My skin tingles with anticipation as I try to rein in my breathing that is currently out of control. But I don’t have to wait too long. Within minutes, the taxi pulls up in front of his building.

  Rex pays the driver and practically jerks me from the seat, latching onto my hand as we fly into the building like two sex-starved lunatics. He hesitates the moment we enter the glass door, glancing up at the flight of stairs then back to me. With a devious grin, he scoops me up under my knees and I let out a yelp of surprise.

  “Ahh! What on earth are you doing, Rex?” I laugh, my head dropping back.

  He continues striding up the stairs with purpose. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Why are you carrying me? I can walk, you know.”

  “Blondie, shut up and kiss me,” he demands. “I need motivation for climbing.”