“I didn’t mean it the way—” he quickly tried to correct.
“Are you saying you didn’t mean to proposition me?”
“Proposition?” Damn, she was cute.
“What else does ‘you wanna get out of here’ mean if not… well, you know, sex.” His lips twitched at the way she mimicked his deep voice as she threw her attitude at him. When was the last time he felt like this?
“I know it sounded bad.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. “I’m not good at this either. Usually, I’m a little better at it. Maybe the way we met has thrown a wrench in the way I communicate, but…”
“But what? Look, Garrett, what do you want?”
“Time,” he answered too quickly and winced. “With you. Time with you.”
“What?”
“A conversation where I would try my hardest at being gallant. I don’t know what kinda guy you think I am…” he attempted to flirt. “I’m, what did you call me? Hot?” he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes, which he was going to take as a positive. She hadn’t shot him with the pepper spray he’d spied hanging off her keychain or gotten into her car. “I might be hot, but that doesn’t make me easy, Stefanie.” He winked, never looking away from her.
He couldn’t.
“It’s late.”
“I like coffee. You?”
“It’s my blood type,” she responded, and damn, he wanted to laugh. She made him want to laugh.
“My kind of girl.”
“Just talk?”
“I’ve been thinking about you since I got home.”
“You have?” she asked softly. He didn’t trust himself to say more without giving too much away, so he only nodded. She studied him for a long moment before opening her mouth, “You can follow me?”
“Of course.”
“I know a good place for coffee,” she finally said, and he ignored the relief he felt at getting to spend a little more time in her presence.
Stefanie
I didn’t know what compelled me to have him follow me back to my place, but I did. Jesus, would he think I was sending mixed signals? Am I?
I wasn’t a blushing virgin. So, what if I was deliriously attracted to him? I parked in my spot and waited for him to park in the visitor area. He moved with confidence, and the sight was incredible. I was somewhat tempted to film him and play it for my female co-workers on slow-mo as a GIF.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
“So, we’re at your place?” He looked around.
“You remember?”
“No way I could forget. I was tempted to send you flowers.”
“You were?” I asked, the disbelief clear. “Why didn’t you?” I quickly regretted asking. Why can’t I stop talking?
“I didn’t know your name.”
“Oh.” I shook my head and led the way to my place. I opened the door, he walked in, and I locked it behind me. Standing in my living room, he was a hell of a lot bigger than I remembered. “Coffee?” I nervously offered.
“Please.”
I had him follow me to my kitchen and pointed toward the kitchenette that had seen better days.
“Please, sit. I’ll start up the machine.”
“So, what do you do other than sing? That’s what you called it, right?” he asked, teasing in his own way. His velvety rich voice made my spine tingle as I moved around my kitchen, filling up the coffee machine with water.
“Hey! It takes guts to go up there.”
“And you do that every week?”
“Every week.” I grinned, looking over my shoulder as I counted out the scoops of coffee grounds. “Sometimes even twice a week.”
“Daredevil,” he muttered, his eyes moving from mine to my lips, and just like that, the air inside my kitchen got warmer.
Clearing my throat, I turned to focus on setting the machine to start brewing. “Hey, I didn’t see you up there.”
“You wouldn’t see me doing that,” he agreed, and I knew he was right. He wasn’t the type to sing or make an ass of himself in public. At least not on purpose. “So? What do you do?” he asked.
“I work at a call center,” I shared honestly. It wasn’t glamourous or fun, but it paid the bills.
“Call center, huh?”
“Yup… What about you?” I asked after getting two mugs down, leaning my back against my countertop.
“What about me?” He tilted his head, and I felt his eyes roam my body like a touch.
“What do you do?” I asked and then shook my head. “No, wait, can I guess?”
“Sure.” His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile, and I loved it. I loved being the one who made him smile. Something about him made me think he didn’t do it often.
“Hmm…” I took in the way he held himself, his haircut, and the chain and tattoos I knew were beneath his shirt. “Military man?” Southern California had a couple of bases. He frowned and shook his head.
“Damn.” I scowled. “I would have bet my paycheck I was right,” I admitted. He looked away, and I couldn’t help myself. I kept looking at him. His profile was beautiful. Masculine and handsome. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if swallowing hard before looking at me.
“I used to be.”
“What?”
“In the army… I used to be.”
“I wasn’t totally wrong,” I chimed, trying not to make it a big deal. “Okay, soldier boy, let’s see…”
“Solider boy?” His brows moved high up toward his hair line, and I beamed at him, nodding. “Cupid, I don’t know if you can tell, but I haven’t been a boy in a very long time.” His voice went deeper, if that was possible, and my breathing picked up. Damn, he was sexy. “You shouldn’t look at me like that, Tinkerbell,” he warned with a rumble, and I felt my nipples tighten beneath my bra.
“Tinkerbell?” I asked, playfully showing my shock at his words, trying to ignore my reaction.
“You’re tiny and fucking cute.” I could feel myself blushing.
“But I’m not blond.”
“Neither was Tink in Hook.” He winked like a smartass, and I laughed.
“I’m twenty-six,” I shared, figuring it was only fair since I knew his age.
“You sure?” He raised a manly brow. “I have a feeling I should double-check your ID. Make sure you’re not lying,” he joked, and I rolled my eyes. I looked younger than my age, but I wasn’t jailbait. “Twelve years,” he muttered to himself, and my smile deepened.
“Twelve years.”
“I’m too fucking old for you.”
“For me? I thought you weren’t propositioning me earlier?” I flirted back, probably making a fool of myself, but I didn’t care. I was enjoying him too much, and I had learned a long time ago to bask in the beauty life throws at you because just as quickly, the tides can change. You didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I like you,” he informed, and I bit my lower lip from smiling like some kind of lunatic. He likes me.
“Good,” I managed to say calmly, with a nonchalant shrug, before turning around. Once the coffee was ready, I poured both of us a mug before walking it to the table and sitting in the chair across from him.
“Should we toast or something?” I asked like the goofball I was, riveted by the way he was touching the mug, holding it in his hand, his gaze cast down at it. I didn’t even know it was possible to hold a coffee in an immensely masculine way like that. But it was happening in front of me; therefore, it was.
“To what?” he asked, glancing up at me.
“To the ass kicking that made our paths cross,” I stupidly said, but his half-grin made it feel like a victory.
“Cheers.” He lifted his mug, and we both sipped the caffeinated goodness.
_______________
Despite the two mugs of coffee we shared over light-hearted conversation, I had somehow fallen asleep. Lifting my head, I looked around my dimly lit living r
oom. A soft manly snore rang out, and I stilled. Suddenly, sleep was long gone. I was lying on something—or better yet, someone. Looking down at the gray cotton covering his massive chest, I took in the feel of his very solid, very masculine pecs below my fingertips and my body. Garrett’s handsome face was relaxed in sleep.
We had moved from the kitchen to the couch and decided neither of us was tired. He had taken in my DVD collection, and when he had handed me his choice, I couldn’t help but laugh. My laughter had quickly quieted when it had met his head on. Watching him in those moments, light hearted and laughing, had been incredible.
Don’t get me wrong.
I knew how I sounded.
I chastised myself for it.
I was completely deluded, waxing poetic over a man who I honestly knew nothing about. Sure, I had cared for him when he had got himself mixed up, but other than that and knowing he’d been in the military once a upon a time, he was a complete mystery. Somehow avoiding personal subjects and a genius at turning the questions around to me.
But the man was like the sun. I just had to make sure not to get burned.
His arms wrapped tighter around me, and I froze, unsure of what to do.
“Sleep,” he ordered roughly, sleep lacing his voice.
“The couch can be lumpy,” I shared and watched him open his eyes. Something extraordinary shined for a second before he took it away.
“It’s fine.”
“But your back could hurt in the morning. I’m heavy and—”
“Shh.” He leaned forward, and my lungs seized. “Sleep, sunshine.”
“You like nicknames,” I whispered, liking the fact he had so many for me.
“Mmm, not usually,” he admitted. I pressed my forehead against his, wondering what he meant.
“Garrett?”
“Hmm?”
“What are we doing?” I hated asking, but I would rather be clear about what was going on.
“We were sleeping.” He closed his eyes, not moving or letting go of me.
“Right. But I have work in the morning, and you have?”
“Fishing for info, Stef?” he asked, only opening one eye.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“You want me to go?” he asked, pulling away from me, but to my grateful heart it was only to sit up and lift me like I weighed nothing as he sat me on his lap. “You want me to go, I’ll go. I won’t bug you again.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I admitted. The idea of him leaving and not coming back made my stomach sick. I didn’t let myself focus on what that could mean. “But I don’t want you to wake up hating me because of my couch.”
“What do you suggest, sunshine?” he asked, his hands mindlessly and lightly stroking my thighs. What was I trying to suggest? What could I suggest? “I’ll go,” he said, one of his hands stroking my face. I sighed, leaning into his touch.
He had these massive, strong hands I knew could create so much pain, but I trusted him, and again, I wasn’t going to let myself think about why. From the way he was looking at me, I knew he felt just like I did.
We didn’t want the night to end.
“I shouldn’t have pushed.” He stood us up and stood right next to me. His big body next to mine should have felt overwhelming and intimidating, but it didn’t.
I felt— safe.
Don’t take things for granted, a soft voice chimed in my head, and I acted without a second thought. Taking his hand in mine, I walked us toward the front door. Without a word, I moved to lock the top latch and looked into the dark pools of his eyes. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Bed?”
“We’ve kind of, umm… already slept together,” I rushed to say out loud, knowing exactly how bad it sounded.
“What?” His hands pulled me to him, firmly placing themselves on my hips. “Please tell me I didn’t have a taste of you and was too fucking drunk to remember,” he growled. I shook my head with a nervous giggle.
“We just slept, slept. I only have one bedroom, Garrett, and you needed rest, but so did I, and—”
“Jesus, baby.”
“What?”
“First, you let a stranger, a drunk one, into your house. Then into your bed?”
“You were hardly going to do—”
“I don’t know if I should kiss you or spank that sweet little ass of yours for doing such an insane thing.”
“Oh,” I muttered, thinking I would happily be up for both. His gaze darkened as if he could read my thoughts, and the air thickened around us.
“You sure about this?”
“It’s… it’s sleeping,” I pointed out, my voice slightly raspy.
His head jerked once, and I wondered for a split second if I knew what I was doing. As I took in his rough edges and rugged features, I realized that anyone looking at him, at his size, wouldn’t be as trusting. I was usually the first to be distrustful of people, but there was something about Garrett Wright I couldn’t resist. Everyone has a downfall, a tiny devil chimed on my shoulder.
“Sleeping,” he repeated, squeezing my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. With a smile, I led us to my room.
Chapter Seven
Garrett
There was a fine line between heaven and hell, and he was currently living it.
He looked at the tiny beauty in his arms, taking in every fucking detail he could while in awe of the fact he was in bed with her.
She had shocked the shit out of him when she had led him into her room and quietly grabbed sexy-as-sin pajamas. Not that they were outright sexy. No. His tempting bit of sunshine wore skin soft, light-purple sleep shorts with a buttery yellow spaghetti strap top. When he had pointed out he didn’t have any sleeping clothes, she had suggested he could sleep in his boxers, and he’d loved the way her face had turned a bright pink.
That was how he had found himself in bed with the little minx wrapped around him as she softly snored. He couldn’t get his body to relax. He was wound tightly, but not in a bad way. Instead of the usual anxiety and tension, he felt lust.
Lust and something else.
Something he couldn’t put a name to, something eerily like happiness.
His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as he stroked her soft hair.
“Hmm,” she sighed deeply, her soft breath tickling his bare chest as she snuggled closer. He fought shutting his eyes. His body was hard, and when he said hard, he meant HARD. Her toned leg moved upward in sleep and curled into him, and he groaned, his fingers tangling further into her hair.
Her head moved up, her hand on his chest, and he swallowed hard.
“I’m wrapped up all around you,” she mumbled sleepily, moving her leg down, and he let his hand touch the soft skin of her thigh.
“Don’t move.” His voice was slightly rough. “I like it.”
“I’m squishing you.”
“Pshh,” he scoffed. “Hardly.” Her weight on him felt amazing.
“You don’t look like you’ve slept at all,” she pointed out, her lips hovering over his. Damn, she was tempting him. Tempting to take her and whatever it was brewing between them to the next level.
“Sleep, sunshine.”
“Hmm… I like all your nicknames.” She sighed, resting her head back on his chest as his fingers gently stroked her scalp. “I’ve never had a nickname,” she admitted in her sleepy haze. Her hand stroked the area above his pec, back and forth. The featherlight touch made his eyes heavy, and he drifted off to sleep wondering how the hell it was possible his beautiful Cupid had never had a nickname when he couldn’t decide on one for her.
_______________
He woke up, and without opening his eyes, he knew he was alone. There was a stillness in the room and throughout the entire apartment.
Slowly opening his eyes, he took in the view of her bedroom. But unlike the last time he’d woken up in it, he wasn’t in a world of pain. Sitting up, he smiled and picked up the note on her nightstand.
Garr
ett,
I guess it was my turn to slip out and leave a note.
Last night was fun. We should hang out again.
You have my number.
Sunshine McCupid
Damn, she was cute.
Cute and way too trusting.
Looking around, he shook his head. She had let a stranger stay in her home. Sure, it was him, but nonetheless, she seriously needed to be more careful. The idea of someone taking advantage of her kind spirit made his blood boil, and the need to keep her safe bubbled up again. He wanted to protect her. Him. He shook his head. He wasn’t any good at keeping people safe.
He should walk out and leave her be.
She was better off without someone like him screwing with her life and her head. Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was his capability to fuck things up.
Knowing this, Garrett still took her handwritten note from the notepad and stuffed it into his back pocket. He picked up a pen, tempted to write her back, but he didn’t.
The ball was in his court.
He just needed to decide whether he should keep playing the game.
Stefanie
He was back.
In my bar. Well, not my bar, but Kip’s.
He was at the Lunar Dive. Again.
Standing off to the side by the entrance, I bit the tip of the nail on my thumb. As cheesy and stupid as it was, the sight of him sitting next to my usual barstool made my heart flip-flop.
He came back.
He hadn’t called.
Or texted.
Nothing the entire week. I had chalked it up to the fact he was just not interested. Maybe he had been in the bar, but he hadn’t even tried to kiss me while we were in bed. It had stung, him going incommunicado, but it was also life. I didn’t expect much from people, and he was no different than everyone else.
But he was back. He was back and sitting at the bar.
Breathing in deeply, I walked over to him, sitting in my usual spot, tapping his shoulder. He turned his chocolate-brown eyes to meet mine. I smiled. He was even more handsome than I recalled.
CHEAT (Right Men Series Book 3) Page 5