Strangled? Studying was putting her through the wringer, but what did being strangled at all ends have to do with it? And wow, her career was her life, but now that I wanted to move in together and make her a permanent part of my life, she was changing the game. For whatever reason, she thought I couldn’t take her law school endeavors seriously. Maybe because to her I was just some lowly blue collar worker. Yeah, my aspirations weren’t as high as hers, but I risked my life as FDNY every day and I wasn’t about to defend myself to her for the millionth time.
I was tired of practically begging. I was done and what I was about to say would probably sound harsh and asshole-ish, but her rejection was harsh—it fucking stung and I didn’t like it. “You know what, Ris, you’re right. We do need this break. You got all weirded out when I mentioned moving in together the other night as if it were some fucking heinous crime that I wanted to make things more permanent with the woman I love. Then you throw this shit in my face and quite honestly, if you can’t have me and your career as part of your life—then maybe we shouldn’t be together. Study your heart out, honey. I hope you take the test and pass with flying colors and become the most successful lawyer there is, but remember that I wanted you to do all that with me by your side.”
“Beck,” she interrupted, without an ounce of sadness in her voice. She wasn’t the best at showing her feelings, but this was an all-time low. Nothing she could say now would erase what had already been said, so I didn’t let her continue.
“No. Don’t. I’ve given you my all even when people thought that was impossible. I’ve been nothing but a good boyfriend to you—everyone thinks I’m fucking pussy-whipped and all changed and shit.”
She wasted no time jumping in after that remark. “No, not everyone. Just Marcus, and you’d be smart not to take any relationship advice from that joker.”
Marissa might have been dead on about Marcus, but hearing her talk about my best friend after making me feel like shit—it was my breaking point. “Ris, I gotta go.”
“I’m sorry, Beck. I didn’t mean to—”
“Enough! We’ll talk later.” I hung up the phone, feeling like a complete asshole. For the second time in two days.
I’d been Marissa’s boyfriend for over two years. For those two years I made a point of proving myself and changing my former player ways. Marissa was the kind of girl you did that shit for. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was smart, accomplished, the kind of girl you took home to Mom. And let’s not even talk about the hard-on my mom had for her. I had brought her home once and by the end of that night my mother was making it like my new girlfriend was her own flesh and blood and I was the outsider.
“Fuck!” I grunted, running my hands through my hair. This was so not how I’d envisioned any of this going. I felt crushed, I really did. How had it come to this? One minute I was asking her to move in and the next minute we were taking a break. A break—I felt like fucking Ross and Rachel from Friends, but I couldn’t laugh about it because the idea of it being over with Marissa yanked at my heart.
And there was the damn phone again.
I contemplated ignoring it because I just wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but then realized it could be Marissa coming to her senses. It wasn’t Marissa—stubborn, cold bitch. Instead it was a string of texts between Marcus, Riley, and Tessa, making plans for tonight.
I quickly read through all the messages and then typed back that I was game for a night out. Going to that new bar on Fifth tonight would be a good distraction. I needed a night with my friends. A night away from Marissa. A night to just let it all soak in and maybe understand why the hell I wasn’t good enough for the girl I had called mine for the last two years.
The loud thumping music washed over me like a renewing spring rain shower, pumping fresh, get-up-off-your-ass energy to my limbs. “Oh! I love this song!” Justin Timberlake was my man—I loved him, hated his snobby bitch of a wife, and always needed to move my feet whenever his words played through the speakers and filled the room. One bar of Suit and Tie, and the buzz from my second beer had me shooting up from my chair and pulling on Tessa’s arm. “Come on, girl, let’s dance!”
Staring into her Ketel and Cranberry and sitting a little too close to my brother, she all but mumbled, “No one’s dancing, Ry.”
An empty dance floor meant shit to me. “So, we’ll start a trend. Come on, pleeeaaase?” I turned my lips into the obnoxious pout that usually got me nowhere, but when I saw Tessa’s eye roll, I sensed she was about to cave.
“Fine,” she huffed. “But only for this one song. I’m tired.”
Marcus pulled her down to whisper something in her ear. Her cheeks blushed and a smile crept across her beautiful face. Damn these two… had the world gone mad? My brother was an asshat and no good for my naive friend. I pulled her back to me, as if it was a game of tug of war between Marcus and me. I was going to win this one. He had Beck—who looked extra sullen tonight—to talk to. I needed my girl to myself.
At the risk of sounding like a nag, I scolded her as we swayed onto the dance floor. “Stop flirting with him. You can do better. Like that guy over there.” I pointed to the cutie bopping his head in our direction while he ordered his drink at the bar. I caught a look from Marcus, who was eyeing me and Tessa like an overprotective pitbull.
I hated to talk smack about my brother, but he was the last thing Tessa needed right now. Marcus went through my friends faster than a doctor went through latex gloves. Tessa was a fool if she thought she would be the one to change his man-whore ways.
Once she realized that and he got tired of her, she’d want nothing to do with any reminders of him—me included. I couldn’t have my brother screwing things up between Tessa and me now that I finally had her back.
I’d missed her all the years Zack kept her from me as some hostage. Prisoner, rather. She’d put up with years of his domineering, alcoholic fits of jealousy and abuse before he finally checked into a treatment facility. And Tessa, thankfully, found enough strength to escape with her baby boy.
So it was a surprise to me that she’d even want to date so soon. Come to think of it… it wasn’t just Tessa’s wellbeing I was concerned with. She wasn’t right for Marcus right now either. He needed to get his act together before he could even consider being semi-serious with anyone—Tessa was way too vulnerable after what she’d been through with her douche bag ex to be teaching Marcus the dating ropes.
So, that’s why I dragged her in the direction of the guy in the suit who was making his way toward us with his beer.
“Ry, what are you doing?” Tessa was on to my game.
“We’re using JT to help us flirt. Come on, this guy’s been looking our way.”
I caught her glancing back at the table where Marcus and Beck were sitting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she and Marcus were having their own silent conversation with their eyes alone. Screw that! He didn’t have any ownership over my friend.
“Hi, ladies,” said the sexy suited man, distracting Tessa from my brother and Beck.
“Well, hello there,” I answered back a little too eagerly.
“I’m Chris.” He extended his beerless—and ringless (thank God)—hand to Tessa first, but when she hesitated a beat too long, I swooped in and grabbed it.
“Nice to meet you, Chris. Is that short for Christian, as in the dominating Christian Grey, or Christopher, as in the insanely ingenious Christopher Walken?”
Chris smiled a mega-watt grin, showing off a dentist’s dream. “Cute. I like that,” he laughed, making eye contact with me. “But it’s actually neither. I’m just Chris. I guess my parents got lazy.”
Feeling a little brazen, I flirted as I admired him from head to toe. “I wouldn’t say they were lazy at all—they created quite a masterpiece.”
Tessa chuckled, shaking her head. “Damn, you Grayson siblings are smooth.”
I giggled to myself and then brought my attention back to Chris when he asked, “So, ladies, are y
ou going to tell me your names or keep me guessing?”
“How silly of me.” I took the initiative. “I’m Riley and this is my friend, Tessa.” The music was getting louder so I wasn’t sure if he heard me, but it obviously didn’t matter because he decided to stick around and dance with us for the next song.
After a few sweaty minutes of fun, Chris’s hands became a little freer. He cupped my waist and pulled me close to him, and then he grabbed Tessa’s hands, encouraging her to move to the sultry hip-hop beat of the music. The boy obviously couldn’t choose between the two of us. It didn’t matter, though, because I was just having fun. I had to keep reminding myself that I’d vowed not to go through with the meaningless hook-up tonight. Riley Grayson was not going to meet her future husband in a bar. Even if the idea of Chris as said husband wasn’t so unappealing.
As if I needed a blaring reminder as to the quality of men in clubs, at that exact moment Chris took it upon himself to start dry humping Tessa’s behind. She was clearly uncomfortable, so I started to sandwich myself between them. I needed to salvage the little bit of fun we were having before Chris turned all bump-and-grind. I was buzzed and feeling the moment and just wanted to have a good damn time, even if this guy was all over my friend. I threw my arms around Chris’s neck and wiggled my ass into Tessa’s groin, but before I could actually get my threesome on, I saw Marcus making a beeline toward Tessa with Beck hot on his tail.
“Hey,” he jabbed Chris on the shoulder. “Can I help you?”
Chris eyed him up and down. “Sure, are you taking drink orders? I’ll take a Bud Light for myself and two Ketel and Cranberries for my new friends here.”
If steam could’ve come out of his ears it would have. My brother’s tattooed neck bulged so that it looked like his veins were about to pop. Through gritted teeth, he got right in Chris’s face. “I’m not some bus boy, asshole. I’m her…” He paused, looking at Tessa but quickly darted his angry gaze back to me. “I’m her brother.”
Chris seemed completely unbothered by Marcus’s overprotectiveness. “Can’t your sister speak for herself? And what about her friend, Jess, was it?”
Fuck! That set him off for some reason. This dude’s top was about to blow! “Her name’s Tessa and no, they’re both spoken for, so… Get. The. Fuck. Away.”
Whoa! Wait a minute. What the hell was that all about? “Marcus!” I finally scolded, giving him an ineffective punch in the arm. He didn’t budge, but just kept staring at Chris with clenched fists and flaring nostrils. This was taking it too far. Why the hell would he want to ruin our good time? And my buzz!
“It’s okay, Ry,” Tessa finally spoke as the voice of reason, coming between Chris and Marcus as the music wound down. “Come on, Marcus. Song’s over, we can go sit back down now.”
My brother took a few deep breaths and appraised both me and Tessa before turning toward the table. Just as I thought the little scuffle was over, Marcus looked over his shoulder and spit out, “Good idea. Good night, prick.”
Chris whooshed past me, nearly knocking me on my ass, and bumping chests with Marcus. “What did you just call me?” When Marcus didn’t respond quickly enough, Chris wound up and threw a punch. “Fuck you, asshole,” was the last thing he said before I saw tattoos and flesh and drinks flying in the air.
Tessa and I shrieked and Beck came running to his friend’s defense, pulling him off the man I’d obviously misjudged for a gentleman.
In a calming tone, Beck held Marcus back and growled into his ear. “Dude, what the fuck? This isn’t you… you’re better than this. Come on, bro, before it gets ugly.”
It was the first time I’d noticed how mature Beck had become. Back in the day, he would have thrown punches along with Marcus. They were partners in crime—sometimes actual crimes—but seeing him like this right now, calm and sensible, it was a pleasant surprise.
After a few more seconds of a standoff between Marcus and a panting Chris, the crowd that had gathered started to murmur. In our own little huddle of four, I watched as Tessa stared into Marcus’s eyes, calming him. “Please, Marcus. Let’s just go.” I couldn’t quite explain the exchange in words sufficient enough to capture the feeling, but it was like watching a vicious snake being charmed into submission.
When Marcus finally spoke, he never took his eyes off Tessa. “Let’s go. Beck, you share a cab with Riley and make sure she gets home okay. Tessa, you’re riding home with me.”
“But…” What the hell just happened? We all came here together. Why did I have to be babysat by Beck?
“But nothing. Good night, Riley.” Marcus didn’t give me time to retort. He grabbed Tessa’s hand, and left me standing with Beck, completely baffled.
After a shot to calm my nerves and a trip to the ladies’ room, I let Beck convince me that it was indeed time to call it a night. When we finally ambled outside to hail a cab, the fresh air just made my drunkenness more prominent. Feeling giddy and reckless for a change, suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking of making up my own lyrics to Cabaret (one of Justin’s not so well known tunes) and belting them out. “Cabaret… ohhhh! Even though I’m three sheets to the wind, I ain’t hooking up with your hot ass.” Oops. Did I just say that out loud?
“What the fuck are you singing?” He looked at me like I was growing a second head, but then laughed as he steadied me on my wobbly feet.
His strong hands clutched my waist, the pads of his fingers brushing along the exposed skin of my midriff. Whoa. Shivers. It had to be the alcohol making me warm and fuzzy. Couldn’t be the thought of Beck’s hands rubbing all parts of my body. Nope—not going there. I needed a quick save. Sarcasm. Confidence. Justin!
“Duh! It’s JT… my man. It always leads back to JT, Beckster. Don’t you know that?”
“Don’t you know how much I hate it when you call me Beckster?”
“Do you really? I thought you liked my nicknames for you.”
“Why? Are there more than one?”
“Of course there are, silly boy. You’re the Italian Stallion, the boy with the dragon tattoo, and the one that makes Marcus squirm the most… Becks on a Stick. Get it? Like Sex on a Stick?” I snorted and then realized what I’d said. Shit! How many drinks did I have? I was being way too free with my words.
I stumbled backwards as I danced around while rattling off his secret pet names. He reached out to stop me from toppling off the curb. And then he was touching me again. Sweet Jesus. He had to stop doing that.
“Wow. Really? I never knew I did it for you, Riles,” he said with the cocky, careless attitude that matched my brother’s.
“Oh, don’t go confusing a silly nickname with me having the hots for you. Yes, you’re adorable in that best friend of my little brother’s sort of way, but you most certainly do not do it for me, Beckster.”
At that, he arched an eyebrow and gave me this smoldering look that caused a dampness between my thighs. Shit… what the hell? That was one dangerous weapon he’d been holding out on me.
He inched closer and my breath caught. Within seconds, he was backing me up against the wall and then caging me between his arms. Suddenly my heart was rapping so hard against my chest I could barely control my breathing. Beck was going to make me break out in hives from the way he was looking at me.
My words came out all choppy. “What are you—why are you—”
“I know how to read women, Riles. I see how large those pretty pupils of yours are right now. Your chest,” he zeroed in on my cleavage, licking his lips slightly, “is rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. That little ticking underneath that soft skin on your neck tells me your pulse is racing, and that delicious, sweet aroma… you’re aroused as all hell. So, don’t tell me I don’t do it for you, baby. Because I know I most certainly do.”
Um… what? “Uh… uh…” Suddenly I was a stammering mute. My fingers itched to bury themselves in his wavy brown hair, to touch the delicious stubble that covered his always tanned complexion. I stared into Beck
’s chocolate brown eyes, begging with my own for him to kiss me. Kiss me? Did I really want Beck to kiss me? God, his little speech had me so needy for him.
The alcohol in my system certainly played a part in my behavior, but honestly, I was so tired of doing the right thing and ending up alone. Maybe I needed to channel that inner wild side I’d always wanted to toy with. So what if I let my hair down this once? So what if I let the Beckster kiss me? It would only be this one time anyway. It would hold me over and satisfy this ridiculous craving just for one fleeting second. But as I was about to lift my arms and tangle my fingers in his sexy, unruly hair, the cab pulled up and Beck’s warmth vanished.
Feeling his absence, I practically wilted against the wall, wanting to crawl under a rock when he started to snicker. “Cab’s here, Riles. Wanna pick your chin up off the floor now?”
Mother fucker. He was teasing me. Beck had gotten me all hot and bothered and there was nothing I could do about it.
Damn, she was a sloppy drunk. Sexy, hot, and making my dick hard, but sloppy all the same. The sleeve of her skimpy shirt hung off her shoulder, revealing a purple lace bra strap. Interesting… I never took the stick-up-her-ass Grayson sibling for wearing sexy tit huggers. Even in my wildest dreams of Riley (and there had been a few over the years, if I’m being honest here) she wore plain white cotton panties. There was no mistaking she was gorgeous, but she was also very safe when it came to her appearance. I found that odd, because her line of work relied so much on colors and boldness and taking risks. Riley had not been a risk taker in all the years I’d known her.
But tonight I was seeing a different side to her, with her sexy outfit, her bright nail and lipstick color—it was about time she let her hair down. And kicked off her shoes… literally. She’d abandoned her wedges and was resting her bare feet against the back of the cracked vinyl front seat. Her skirt rode up her lap, giving the illusion of mile-long silky legs. Shit, she looked gorgeous like that.
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