by Adriana Law
I stare down at the tooth brush in my hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Use it.” I follow him out clutching the handle of his tooth brush, my mouth falling open as he digs out a clean shirt and pulls it on over his head hiding the muscle I enjoyed seeing. “I’ll pick you up a new one while I’m out.”
“Wait. You’re going out?”
“Yeah. I won’t be back until really late. You should get some sleep.” He scoops up his jacket off the back of the sofa, headed toward the door; he stops to swipe his keys off the bar.
I follow him, that tiny thread connecting us coming unraveled.
“You expect me to stay here by myself … in your apartment? I don’t even have a cell phone. What if I want to leave?”
“Then there’s the door.” He nods at the steel door, sarcasm and impatience dripping from him. He drags a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I didn’t kidnap you. You’re not my prisoner and about you not having a cell phone … I don’t see how that is my problem. Everything you need is here. If you decide you want to call a cab then there’s a pay phone outside the building.”
And that’s it, he walks out the door.
Everything you need is here….
I sag against the door.
Not everything.
Light spills into the apartment from out in the hallway. The front door burst open. Keys clatter against the hardwood floor, and then Sterling is staggering in, almost tumbling over as he bends to pick up the keys. He is not alone. Another leggy blonde—similar to the one he’d been with at Colton’s—is right behind him, holding onto his waist. Shifting on the mattress my heart picks up speed the madder I become. Watching from under the comforter I swallow down the vomit rising up in the back of my throat. I pretend to be asleep, because really, what else can I do. Pitch a fit? I’m thinking that’s probably what he expects and wants.
Drama.
The front door swings shut killing my source of light.
“Shit! That chair wasn’t there earlier!” Sterling mutters when he runs into one of the tall chairs by the bar. The chair—black like Sterling’s soul—tumbles over smacking the hardwood floor. I’d sat at the bar for over an hour after he’d left earlier, wondering what I’d been thinking in those few minutes when he’d stretched out his hand to me saying, ‘are you coming’. I guess I forgot to push the chair up to the bar.
Giggling grates on my nerves. Do they all giggle?
“ooooo there’s a ghost in your apartment that likes to move chairs.” She snorts. “Bad ghost.”
“Shhh, don’t be so loud,” Sterling scolds.
The blond giggles. “Why? Does noise piss it off?”
Seriously. Is this girl for real?
Does Sterling even remember I’m here?
There is once again light in the apartment, coming from the open refrigerator. “Got any beer?” The girl asks. She is bent over so far rummaging through the contents in the refrigerator that the short mini dress she’s wearing shows the beginnings of her butt checks.
“Yeah. Grab me one too.” Sterling collapses onto the leather couch like he’s been waiting to do that all night.
The light vanishes, forcing me to rely on my hearing.
Her high heels tap against hardwood over to the couch. Glass clinks against glass, bottles of beer being sat on the coffee table. Leather crunches when she sits and then more leather crunches as they start to do what I can only imagine they’re doing judging by the heavy breathing and smacking sounds. I’d thought about kissing those very lips earlier. Imagined what it would feel like to kiss Sterling.
Freaking asshole! He knows I’m here. Does he really think this is okay? Of course he does. He brought a girl to his cousins in the midst of a funeral. I regret offering to put medicine on his cuts earlier. In fact, I now wish Colton would have beaten his ass and I was still at home.
“Careful with the lip,” Sterling warns.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Did some crazy ex do that to your face? Do I need to be concerned? I don’t like surprises … or crazy possessive exes.”
“You don’t need to worry.”
“Good.” She gives a little moan. “My kind of guy … skips all the bullshit going straight to the fun stuff. Do you have a condom?”
“Huh uh.”
I imagine them quickly undressing each other caught up in a moment driven by overwhelming lust and need. It takes every bit of the restraint I have to remain still in the bed. The reflexes in body literally struggle against my brain telling them to not move.
“What the hell.” The girl mutters and I hold my breath … suspended in suspense. What the hell what? What happened? What’s going on? That didn’t sound like a good what the hell.
“Your fucking kidding me!” the girl sighs loudly.
Why isn’t Sterling saying anything?
A faint glow comes from over on the couch. I can see the girl’s angelic face lit by it.
“Hey, can you come get me?” She says into her cell. “Yeah. Now would be nice. The asshole fucking passed out on me right in the damn process of pulling down his jeans. Hell no! We never got that far. I don’t know. Hold up and I’ll check.” There is movement. “Wait, I’m looking the switch on the lamp. I can’t see a damn thing in here. This guy’s apartment is fucking unbelievable. You wouldn’t believe the valuables … yeah, we should. ”
The lamp beside the couch dumps light. Finally I no longer have to fill in the blanks. The blonde pins the cell to her ear with a raised shoulder while she rolls Sterling’s limp, shirtless body toward the inside of the couch. His jeans are pulled down revealing half of his rear-end, a heck of a lot whiter than the rest of him. The crack of Sterling’s ass and the knowledge that he is going commando shouldn’t cause the tingles I’m feeling. I should be turned off rather than turned on by his pathetic passed out ass, but sadly, I have a weak spot for Sterling. I realize that now.
The girl shoves her hand in the back pocket of his sagging jeans and pulls out his wallet. She opens it.
“Holy shit! Jackpot!” she squeals. “The stupid fuck has a thousand dollars in his wallet!” she tells who ever she is talking to. “Okay. Meet me out front in ten … yep, the same building you dropped us off at earlier.”
The girl is in the middle of sliding on her heels when I throw back the comforter and cross the apartment. I stop at the end of the couch. The girl—busy recounting the bills in her hand—screams when she looks up and sees me standing there. She scuffles to the far end of the couch.
“Who the hell are you?” Her gaze travels down seeing I’m wearing one of Sterling’s T-shirts and his boxers, before landing on an unconscious Sterling and her hands come up in defense. One hand stuffed crumbled with green bills. “The fucker said he didn’t have a girlfriend! How was I supposed to know?”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say, my hands going to my hips.
She exhales a long breath, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank God. Neither am I.” She giggles. “Looks like the shithead did a number on us both. Oh well, I’ve got a thousand dollars here … half can be yours … think about it … both of us can walk away from this night without it being a total bust. What you say? Halfsies?”
I glance down at Sterling passed out on the couch. His arms are folded over his chest as if he is cold. My gaze returns to the girl. I hold out my hand. “I don’t make deals with the devil.”
“I’m not the devil. He is! Look at how pathetic he is. He is so out of it he won’t even remember a thing in the morning. Come on, you can’t honestly tell me you’re not a little tempted. The guy deserves it.”
“Give me all of his money or I’ll call the cops.”
She huffs. “Give it all to you! I at least deserve some form of retribution for tonight!”
I reach for Sterling’s cell lying on the end table and swipe a finger over the screen. Of course the asshole has it locked. I pretend to punch in the numbers.
“What’s it going to
be” my fingers hover over the screen, “Cops? Or not … it’s your call, but I’m getting tired of waiting.”
“Fuck it, take the damn money you greedy bitch!” The bills scatter in the air raining down on the glass top of the coffee table. She grabs up her purse and stalks out of the apartment.
My gaze lands on Sterling’s shoulder blade, trailing down his bulging bicep covered in ink. He is curled up, facing the inside of the couch, the crack of his ass still showing. My eyes roll up at the ceiling while I contemplate how exactly I’m supposed to get him to the bed. I could just leave him on the couch. Looking over my shoulder at the king-size bed I realize how tired I am. It would be nice to have the bed to myself but he could throw up while he is passed out and chock on his own puke. That happens right? I am way out of my comfort zone here. I have no idea how to take care of someone who is drunk. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I’ve taken care of Colton and Keria more times than I could count. This was no different.
Sitting down on the coffee table I give his shoulder a vigorous shake. “Hey, think you can make it over to the bed if I help you?”
He mumbles something incoherent and flops onto his back. My eyes take in the nipple piercings. He looks more like a helpless young boy with identity issues than the unpredictable womanizing asshole he usually is. I guess everyone is initially good until someone fucks us up. My chest tightens, aching for this guy to still have some good somewhere inside him.
Exhaling a long breath I decide it’s now or never and slip my hands under his armpits and try to heave him up off the couch.
“Come on, help me out a little,” I mutter after several failed attempts. I’m breathing heavy and sweat is forming along my brows. I never realized how much heavier he is than me. Without any effort on his part it’s dead weight. My hands go to my hips as I assess the situation. His jeans are still low on his hips which means I have to keep forcing myself not to look. I decide to do something about it and grad hold of the band of his jeans yanking them up where they should be. My fingers are on his zipper my face practically in his lap when he opens his eyes. There is a hitch in my breath. He lifts his head off the couch, glancing around as if he’s not too sure about his surroundings.
“Where the hell am I?” he asks in a groggy voice. His blood shot eyes travel down my body: his T-shirt and boxers. “Guess you changed your mind about the clothes.” He grins smugly.
“I got hot.”
“I’ll say.” His gaze narrows on my fingers still gripping his zipper. “Go ahead. I won’t complain.”
“It’s not what you think,” I stutter.
He cocks an eyebrow and pushes up onto his elbows. My bottom returns to the glass coffee table putting some distance between me and his crotch. I blow loose hair out of my eyes, my face on fire.
“You’re in your apartment. I was trying to help you walk over to the bed.”
“What did my zipper have to do with helping me walk?” he asks. My mouth opens but nothing comes out. Where do I start? “Forget it,” he says collapsing back down onto the couch. “Bring me a blanket. I’ll sleep here.” He rolls into the back cushion.
“You can’t sleep here.”
“And why not?” is muffled.
“What if you need my help?”
His shoulder shakes with laughter, which pisses me off.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for twenty-five years. What makes you think I suddenly need your help?”
“Whatever. Keep being a jerk.” I stand up, go over to the bed, drag off one of the blankets and toss the heap on top of his head. “I hope you smoother!”
“Hold up.” He punches his way out of the wad of blankets and rolls off of the couch, standing up none too steady. He takes two steps and then plants a palm on the glass end table to keep from tumbling over.
Before I have time to comprehend what I’m doing I’m reaching out to catch him.
He straightens, knocking my hand away. “Stop! I can do it myself!”
“There is nothing wrong with asking for help, Sterling,” I pause and smile, “or should I run down stairs and give your money back to the blonde that just left.”
“The bitch tried to steal from me?” he reaches for his wallet.
I save him time and effort by nodding at the stack of bills on the table by the couch. “Yep. While the full moon was out.”
“What?” he asks confused.
“Nevermind. You wouldn’t get the humor in it.” I step aside and watch as he staggers over to the bed. He rests his palms on the mattress when he reaches it. It looks as if he needed a breather.
“I’m impressed you didn’t fall on your face on the trip over,” I say.
He hangs his head, his spine rounded, every gorgeous muscle defined.
“I think I might need to puke before I lie down,” he groans, making a U-turn for the bathroom.
He’s in the bathroom for a good forty-five minutes giving me plenty of time to realize the mistake I made by coming here. This happens in books all the time: some bored young girl taking off with a sexy, emotionally wounded guy who ends up being her soul mate and they live happily ever after. I laugh out loud lying in Sterling’s bed. The apartment is dark, the only light coming from the moon shining in the windows. Combing my fingers through the length of my hair on top I stare up at the ceiling listening to him vomit just beyond the bathroom door. In real life the young girl ends up running off with a womanizing coldhearted druggie. Her heart gets broken into a million pieces and she goes crawling home in worst shape than she was in before she left. End of story. No happy ending. No prince charming.
I listen harder. The puking sounds stop. The silence piques my curiosity. Maybe I should at least go check on him. I push up in the bed right as the bathroom door squeals open and I quickly drop onto my side, pretending to be asleep.
He staggers over to the side of the bed. The moonlight provides enough light for me to see skin that appears flawless. He wobbles a second then regains his balance planting his palms on the mattress, the zip of the zipper of his jeans lowering the only sound in the room.
I rise up on an elbow, my eyes widening at his strip tease. His jeans drop to the floor and he steps out of them. I get a full front view of his penis dangling soft surrounded by dark curls. My eyes squeeze shut at the sight of a very naked Sterling.
“What are you doing?” I practically scream.
“Going to sleep,” he says as if it is obvious. He drops down on the mattress with a sigh. “That okay with you?”
“Do you always sleep nude?” I snap.
It is more of an accusation than a question.
“If you think I’m going to suddenly start wearing flannel pajamas to please you … hate to tell you but you’re going to be disappointed.”
I wiggle over to the very edge. He rolls onto his side facing away from me, pulling the sheet up over his tattooed shoulder. Covering his body doesn’t change anything nor does the space between us; I still know he is nude.
“Would it kill you to at least wear a pair of boxers?” I mutter. “You were wearing boxers when we bumped into each other out in the hallway that day. So I know you own a pair.”
“Go to sleep, Phoenix. It’s hot in here, my head is fuckin’ pounding, and I couldn’t get it up even if I wanted to. I’m not going to touch you. I swear.”
“It’s still awkward.”
“It’s only awkward because you’re over thinking it like you do everything,” he returns groggily.
Turning my head I glare at his back. “What’s that supposed to mean. I don’t over think things.”
“Yes you do.”
“You don’t know anything about me!”
“No but I’ve met plenty of girls like you who freak out over every lil thing.”
“And I’ve met arrogant guys like you who think they know everything.”
I wait for a response. I don’t get one. After a few minutes his breathing evens out turning into deep snoring. I’m in bed with a very naked
male. I can feel the heat of him so close, but not close enough to actually touch. A throbbing starts between my legs, frustrating me even more. A dozens sexual thoughts run through my mind. Its torture: being near an incredibly sexy man like Sterling and having him not try anything. I’ve seen his crude behavior, the way he is with women and here he is, sleeping soundly.
As if I’m not here.
What is happening to me? I used to dread Colton’s advances now I’m lying here offended that a guy I barely know isn’t trying to have sex with me. Rising up on an elbow with a huff I throw one last glance over at Sterling’s back, punch my pillow a couple of times settling in on my side facing away from him.
How can he go to sleep in the midst of an argument?
Sunlight pouring through the apartment windows wakes me. I stretch giving a wide mouth yawn before details from last night force me up in the king-size bed. I feel nauseous as I glance over at Sterling.
He’s sleeping on his side facing me, an unshaved cheek smashed into the mattress, his pillow shoved up toward the headboard. The white sheet has slipped down showing a narrow waist, a hip bone and a dark line of hair disappearing under the sheet. My mouth goes dry at the sight of all the tan flesh and ink visible on a jaw dropping body.
My gaze drinks him in: the dark lashes, the full parted lips, the messy hair, and the piercings … all making this guy seriously impossible not to want. And even though I know I shouldn’t, I do.
He looks peaceful while he sleeps. Like a boy who would never break a girls heart.
“A sleeping tiger isn’t any less dangerous,” I mutter going up on my knees, inching my way closer to Sterling. My heels press into my bottom as I sit back on my hunches, observing him as if he is the most fascinating thing on the planet.