All of You

by Christina Lee

  To Greg, for allowing me to go first. That means . . . everything.

  Chapter One

  Love was like a loaded gun. You slid your bullet inside the cold metal chamber as a safeguard for the

  inevitable day that everything went to shit. At the first sign of trouble, you blew your opponent to

  pieces, long before their finger found the trigger. At least that’s what my mother’s string of failed

  relationships taught me.

  I downed the warm beer and scanned the frat party from my armchair perch. The low moans

  drifting from the next couch over awakened a longing inside me. My best friend, Ella, and her boyfriend

  were going at it again. Our other friend, Rachel, an even bigger player than me, was in the far corner

  making out with another university jock. And I wasn’t about to be the only one leaving empty-handed

  tonight.

  Guys were easy to figure out—at least in the hormonal sense. You needed only appear helpless or

  horny, and their pants instantly dropped to their ankles. Except none of the guys here tonight appealed to

  me. Maybe I’d text Rob for a booty call on my way home. He was always good for one, unless he’d

  already hooked up with someone else.

  My gaze landed on the guy entering the back door through the kitchen. A red baseball cap was

  slung low on his head and inky black curls escaped beneath it. His arms were muscular, and his charcoal

  T-shirt hugged his lean chest. He was Grade A Prime Meat and probably knew exactly how to put those

  full lips to good use.

  I watched as he high-fived one of the guys and then propped his forearm against the counter. His

  smile was magnetic, and I pictured him using it on me in another five minutes, when he sweet-talked me. I stood up and straightened my shirt so that it revealed more of my cleavage—the little I had—and

  strode toward the keg with my plastic cup.

  As I drew nearer, I saw how alarmingly gorgeous this guy really was. The one hand fisted in his

  pocket tugged at his jeans, revealing a small sliver of a taut stomach. The trail of baby-fine hairs leading

  downward made heat pool low in my stomach.

  I tried catching his eye, but he wasn’t going for it.

  His friend was a different story, though. He practically growled in my direction.

  The friend was cute, too, but paled in comparison to Hot Boy. But maybe his friend was my ticket

  in. Too bad I wasn’t the type to take on both of them—that might be entertaining.

  Bile scorched the back of my throat. Hell, no. Two meant more testosterone, less power. No telling

  what might happen, even if I thought I was in control. There was a reason I only did one willing guy at a

  time.

  When I stopped at the keg, I overheard Hot Boy telling a friend that he was moving in the morning.

  Hopefully not out of state. No matter; I only needed him for tonight. His voice was low and gruff,

  sending a ripple of satisfaction through me.

  Hot Boy’s friend reached over and grabbed hold of my cup. “Let me help you with that.”

  Hot Boy looked up and our gazes meshed for the first time. Warm chocolate eyes pinned me to my

  spot. They raked over me once before flitting away, sending my stomach into a free fall.

  He pushed aside the messy bangs hanging in his eyes and resumed his conversation.

  I wanted to run my fingers through those unruly curls at the nape of his neck. I made a mental note

  to do that later, when he was lying on top of me.

  His friend handed my cup back, filled to the brim. Hot Boy didn’t look my way again.

  “Thanks.” I clenched my teeth and worked to keep my lips in a neat, straight line.

  “So, what’s your name?” he asked as he stepped closer. His breath was sour with beer and

  cigarettes and I knew I could’ve taken him oh-so-easily. As simple as the arch of my eyebrow. But I didn’t want him. I wanted Hot Boy. Just for one night.

  “My name’s Avery,” I said, loud enough for Hot Boy to hear.

  Hot Boy only paused at the sound of my voice without looking my way. Damn. Maybe he had a

  girlfriend, or maybe he was gay. The pretty boys always were.

  “Nice to meet you, Avery. I’m Nate.” His friend slid his hand to my hip, and I considered giving up

  the hunt and taking him upstairs. But for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling it.

  “I’ll be right back.” I left him swaying unsteadily on his feet.

  I headed back to Ella and Joel, who were still hot and heavy on the couch.

  “I’m going to head home,” I said, close to her ear.

  Ella came up for air. “No prospects tonight?”

  “One.” I glanced over my shoulder to the kitchen. Hot Boy’s friend was still waiting for me. “But

  I’m not really into it.”

  “Bitch, you’re always into it.” Her lips curved into a devilish grin. “Gonna hook up with Rob

  tonight instead?”

  “Maybe.” I didn’t want to disappoint her. I was ready for a good time most weekends. And, even

  though she didn’t really approve, she was ready for all the gritty details the next day. Ella hadn’t gotten

  me to change my ways in high school, and she wouldn’t now. But if I wasn’t in the mood, I didn’t feel

  like explaining it to her.

  I looked around for Rachel to say good-bye, but she was already somewhere private with jock boy.

  Ella went back to ramming her tongue into Joel’s mouth.

  She’d probably felt stranded by Rachel and me too many times to count, so seeing her with Joel

  actually thawed a corner of my frozen heart. A real live boyfriend was what Ella had always wanted.

  Someone who got her, she’d said. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Hopefully Joel would keep treating her right, or he’d have to answer to me. I wasn’t opposed to

  grabbing hold and yanking those balls down hard. My self-defense classes had taught me well. I decided to give Hot Boy one last shot as I passed by him on my way out the door, luring him with

  my sexiest voice. Unfortunately that meant passing his friend, too.

  “Excuse me.” My mouth was close to Hot Boy’s ear, my chest brushing past his arm. He smelled

  like coconut shampoo. Like warm sand, hot sun, and sex. I wanted to wrap myself inside of his arms,

  but I kept on moving.

  “No problem,” he said without even a glance.

  Damn. Rejected again. That made me want him twice as much.

  Just as my foot crossed onto the landing, I felt a warm hand reach around my waist. I almost fist

  pumped the air. Got him.

  I turned to greet Hot Boy, my breaths already fluttery. But the smile slid from my lips and slumped

  to the floor when I realized it was his friend who’d grabbed me instead.

  “Hey, baby, where you going?”

  “I’m leaving.” I twisted away, hoping to break his embrace.

  But he kept in step with me. “How about you hang with me awhile longer?”

  “Maybe another time.”

  His hands frisked around to my stomach, and normally I’d accept that kind of action—initiate it,

  even—but for some reason I couldn’t shake Hot Boy’s rejection.

  I was more of an emotional train wreck than even I’d realized. Despite Ella reminding me almost

  every fucking day.

  And just as I was chastising myself and changing my mind about hooking up with his friend, I

  heard Hot Boy’s low ru
mble of a voice. “Give it a rest, Nate. She said she was leaving, and I’m pretty

  sure that means without you.”

  I blinked in shock. Maybe he’d noticed me after all.

  His friend backed away with his hands raised. And then turned to the keg.

  Hot Boy gave me a once-over. “You good?” “Yeah, thanks.”

  Wait a minute, this was backward. I was thanking Hot Boy for being all chivalrous. And the boys I

  hooked up with were so not chivalrous.

  Hot Boy nodded before turning on his heels and heading out of the room, leaving my ego

  collapsing on the cold hard tile.

  Chivalrous Hot Boy was so not into me.

  I walked the two blocks back to my apartment alone.

  I tossed and turned, imagining Hot Boy’s lips on mine, a fire blazing across my skin.

  My cell phoned buzzed from the night stand. Rob: You in the mood? Me: Not tonight.

  I stepped out of the shower and slid into my blue scrubs. I had a shift at the nursing home and then a

  Chapter Two

  I stepped out of the shower and slid into my blue scrubs. I had a shift at the nursing home and then a

  class that evening. I’d gotten my LPN license and was working on my RN degree at the local university,

  which was only five blocks away and was the exact reason I had chosen this apartment. It was an older

  building, only five floors, with two apartments on each level. There was one laundry room per floor, and

  the landlords were pretty cool—a middle-aged married couple with kids. I tried convincing Ella to move

  in with me last year, but she was saving money by living at home.

  And maybe living alone was for the best. The rent was cheap, and I’d become a creature of habit.

  We’d probably only get on each other’s nerves. Besides, she crashed at my place enough.

  My phone buzzed from the bathroom counter and I saw it was my mother. She wasn’t an early

  riser, so something must’ve been up. Maybe she had broken up with her latest asshole and needed

  consolation. Too bad I wouldn’t be giving it to her. Not since she acted like what had happened with Tim

  four years ago was my fault, blaming it on how I dressed around him.

  I told myself I’d never trust her or another man again.

  “Mom, I’m going to be late for work.”

  She was in tears and wanted to use me as her sounding board. No surprise there. I only talked to her

  to keep tabs on my baby brother, now a senior in high school.

  “What happened—did what’s-his-name dump you?”

  “No, I dumped him. Caught him cheating on me one too many times.”

  Phone calls with Mom were a sobering reminder of why I didn’t get involved with guys. If you remained in charge of your life, they couldn’t mess with your head or put their hands on you without

  your permission. Not anymore. Love was only a ridiculous fairy tale that was never satisfying, warm, or

  safe.

  Only I could provide my own security—like a steel cage around my heart.

  “Maybe this is a good time for you to take a break from men. Focus on Adam. He doesn’t need all

  of this drama in his life, or he’s going to move out when he’s eighteen, too.” I was always nervous about

  how my brother would turn out with all those guys traipsing through the house. Would he become an

  asshole male, too?

  I’d had heart-to-hearts with him about how to treat girls despite what he saw going on at home. I

  hadn’t told him about what happened with Tim—at least not the worst part of it. Ella was the only one

  who knew everything. If you didn’t count the people who regularly denied it: Mom and Tim.

  “Honey, you’re twenty-one. It’s high time you found yourself a good man.”

  “I told you. I can take care of myself.” Besides, there were no good men out there. Except my

  brother, who I was hell-bent on saving. He’d been dating the same girl for the last few months, and I

  warned him about always using protection. The last thing he needed was to support a baby. But he’d told

  me he’d stick by her if that happened. That he was in love.

  I wasn’t sure how my brother had come out of that household unscathed. But I was afraid that he

  was such a good soul, he’d be taken advantage of by someone.

  “I know you can. But men are good for some things. I hate to think about you spending your life

  alone.”

  And that’s when I needed to get off the phone. When my mother was preaching about the virtues of

  men—even though she herself was some kind of homing device for losers, cheaters, and liars. Men who

  either mooched off her, rent-free, or paid her bills as hush money.

  “Okay, Mom, that’s my cue. Got to get to work. Talk to you later.”

  My blond waves were damp and unruly, so I pulled them back in a low ponytail. I trailed mascara over my translucent lashes to help my eyes stand out and so I wouldn’t look twelve years old. That way

  the families of our residents wouldn’t think they could boss me around with their crazy-ass requests. I

  concealed the freckles on the bridge of my nose, and finally dabbed on some pink lip gloss.

  Now a twenty-one-year-old woman stared back at me. I had finally developed curves my senior

  year in high school, but my butt and chest weren’t as filled out as I would have liked. My boobs were

  finally a solid B cup, but the rest of me still looked too boyish.

  Not that the men I was with cared about any of that. They were in it for the same thing I was—a

  quick release of sexual frustration. I could go months without needing it, but my vibrator only did so

  much. Rob was good for fast relief, but he wouldn’t be at my beck and call forever. Sooner or later he’d

  want something more. Something I couldn’t give him.

  The sunlight streaming through my window looked so inviting that I decided to walk the three

  blocks to work today. As I was headed out the front door of my apartment building, a large U-Haul

  pulled up to the curb. One of the apartments on the fifth floor had been vacant for the last two months,

  and I’d gotten used to dragging my laundry basket up there, where it was quiet. The other guy who lived

  on the fifth floor was a pilot and rarely there, so the washer remained unused.

  Two guys stepped out of the truck, and as one rounded the corner, I almost tripped over my white,

  cushy nursing sneakers. He didn’t have his red ball cap on today, and his messy hair fell into his warm

  brown eyes.

  No fucking way.

  He stared at me, a moment of recognition crossing his face. At the party last night, I’d heard him

  tell his friend he was moving, but never in a million years would I have guessed it was to my apartment

  building.

  My head down, I kept walking, equally embarrassed by my scrubs as by my eagerness last night.

  Nothing like the prospect of a day spent with geriatrics to sober me right up. Thank goodness the friend

  with him today wasn’t the same one who’d gotten my name and grabbed my waist. “Hey,” he said. I turned and faced him, unsteady in my white nursing sneakers. “You’re . . . um . . .

  do you live here?”

  I drank him in with a fondling gaze, his deep eyes like hot chocolate, drawing me forward for a

  taste. “Yeah.”

  “Small world.” He extended his fingers toward me. “Bennett. Bennett Reynolds.”

  His hand squeezed mine. Smooth palms and long fingers. I bit my bottom lip to hold in a sigh.

  What in the living hell was wrong with me?

  Maybe he’d let me get him out of my system. Maybe even tonight.
<
br />   “Avery Michaels. First floor. Apartment 1A.”

  “Avery,” he said. “I remember.”

  His eyes darted down to my scrubs and supportive shoes and I felt frumpy. Not at all sexy. Not that

  he thought I was last night, either, with my tight jeans and low-cut top. “You work at the university

  hospital?”

  “Nope; the nursing home on Hamilton Street.” He paused like he was considering what to ask next.

  His hot cocoa eyes drilled through my layers, inspecting me for any underpinnings of truth. I filled in

  some of the blanks for him. “I’m taking college courses at Turner State to become an RN. Working on

  the side helps pay the bills. How about you?”

  “Art major at the university. Got a year left. In the meantime, I work at Raw Ink on Vine Street.” I

  was more than familiar with that tattoo parlor. I’d been in the owner’s bed a couple months ago. Oliver

  was skinny, inked up, and just the right amount of bad boy I’d needed for the night.

  “You’re a tattoo artist?” Holy Mother of God, this man just got hotter. I looked at his arms but saw

  no telltale signs. “I’d think you’d have more tats on you.”

  My fingers slid over the back of my ear near the tattoo I’d gotten when I’d turned eighteen and

  finally escaped my mother’s house. He’d probably think it was amateurish at best.

  “Nah, just a couple of well-placed ones.” His cheeks pinched into a grin and he looked down at his feet, almost shy about it. His teeth were perfectly white and straight and mesmerizing. “Sometimes less

  is more, you know?”

  And sometimes more is more. My eyes roved over his stacked biceps and down the front of his

  jeans. Having a fuck buddy in the same apartment building could prove to be interesting. Or a disaster.

  I needed to reel it the hell in and remind myself that this guy was not interested in me. Yet.

  “Okay, gotta run,” I said. “Good luck moving in.”

  I eyed his friend, who stood on the grass texting someone. I considered whether he’d be a good

  prospect as well. “You guys big partiers? This building is on the quiet side.”

  “Nope. Last night was the extent of the kind of partying I do. And it’s only me moving in up there.”

  Bennett was moving in, alone. He turned back to the truck. “See you later.”