Vibes & Feels: Falling for your enemy never felt so good. (Unlikely Pairings Book 2)

by Sarah Skye

  We eat in companionable silence for a minute. Sushi table dude asks her how she likes her meal, and she flashes a polite smile and delivers an equally polite reply about how yummy everything is. He compliments her smile, and she blushes. I clench my jaw, then quietly order myself to chill the hell out.

  She’s not your girlfriend. You don’t get to react that way.

  Then she turns to me, sets her chopsticks down, and leans close to my ear. “I’m full. This was fun, but what else do you have up your sleeve?”

  Her low tone bears the faintest growl. It sends a sheet of goosebumps across my skin. Thank fuck I’m wearing long sleeves so she can’t see just how wild the sound of her voice makes me.

  Sushi table dude visibly deflates. I’m guessing Morgan’s eagerness to leave with me has dashed any hope he had to chat her up.

  I glance at him briefly before taking her hand in mine. “Let me show you.”

  We stand up, and I drop cash on the guy’s pec, making sure to leave a generous tip. Sushi table dude eyes the cash and makes a “not bad” face before nodding his chin at me. I return the gesture and lead Morgan out of the bustling restaurant and onto the busy city street.

  “Where are we going?” She giggles as she laces her fingers between mine.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Minutes later, we’re at a crowded bar with double shots of hard liquor in our hands. We make a beeline for an empty two-person table near what looks like a makeshift stage.

  “Is there gonna be a band later?” Morgan asks as she sits.

  I shake my head and point to the barely visible chalkboard near the edge of the stage. When her jaw drops, I’m grateful I’m not sipping my drink because I burst out laughing. She twists to me. “Karaoke?”

  “Yup.”

  The brightness of her smile rivals the blinding stage lights nearby.

  “I can’t believe you remembered.” Her smile goes from giddy to tender. Goddamn. It could light up this entire city during a blackout, it’s that dazzling.

  “Of course I remembered. You mentioned it the night we dominated bar trivia—and gave me so much shit for liking girl pop.”

  She giggles as her brows fly up. “Please tell me you’re singing an Ariana song! No, wait, Lady Gaga!”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  The announcer calls for people to sign up with their choice of song. Morgan is so pumped that she practically drags me to the table, so we’re the first ones there. We each sign up, careful not to look at each other’s song picks.

  Morgan’s up first with a killer rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Style.” The crowd is in love with her instantly, cheering and whistling as she grooves along to the melody and lyrics. Her presence is a lot like when she’s modeling. Self-assured, fierce, and glowing.

  Halfway through the song, she makes eye contact with me and suddenly the lyrics take on a whole new meaning. Part of me wonders—actually no, hopes—if in her version of this song, I’m the guy who won’t ever go out of style in her eyes.

  It’s a thought that makes all the blood rush to my head. By the time she finishes to roaring applause, I’m dizzy. But then it’s my turn, so I knock back the rest of my tequila and rise from my chair as she walks over.

  “Well, that was fucking incredible,” I say, my lips grazing the shell of her ear.

  I don’t miss the flash in her eyes, those two perfect spheres of ocean blue. She bites her lips before mouthing “thanks,” then pats me on the back and wishes me luck. When I grab the microphone and look out into the crowd that’s several dozen people deep, I’m thankful I drained every last bit of alcohol in my vicinity. I’m not normally a karaoke guy and doing this sober would have me in hives.

  But when the first few beats of BTS’s “Butter” drop, I lock eyes with Morgan. Her jaw hits the floor, then she claps and cheers along with the rest of the crowd. Every inhibition I have turns to dust. At that moment I know without a doubt I’d do anything to make her smile, make her laugh, make her anything she wants. And I don’t need alcohol to do it.

  So, I make an utter fool of myself. I dance around on stage like an uncoordinated marionette, trying and failing to replicate the dance moves in the music video, which I can barely remember because I only ever watched it twice. I don’t hit a single note in tune. Surprising for a guy who spent ten years playing the piano, but that’s the truth. If I’m not totally tone deaf vocally, I’m pretty damn close. But it doesn’t matter. Morgan’s loving it. That’s all I care about.

  When I finish, I make my way back to our table, people high-five-ing me left and right. Morgan is on her feet, hopping up and down, clapping and grinning.

  I’m barely a foot from her when she leaps on me. I catch her, wrapping my arms around her waist as she wraps her legs around mine.

  Holy hell.

  Those bright blue eyes stare down at me as her lips part. She snakes her arms around my neck and licks her lips as our gazes lock. My mouth waters, and my heart ceases beating entirely.

  It looks like we found a whole new different kind of trouble.

  But then someone bumps into me, nearly knocking us over. Morgan shrieks, gripping her arms and legs around me tighter as I stumble a few steps. Once I’m steady, I set her down and turn around to yell at the drunk asshole who just ruined our moment. But he’s already gone, lumbering toward the bathrooms in the back.

  When I turn back to her, a brilliant flush paints her cheeks. She dusts her hands on her pants and wets her lips. It seems like she can look anywhere but right at me. Meanwhile, I can’t look anywhere but at her. My heart is hammering. I have no fucking clue what to say, how to rewind and get her back into my arms.

  Her smile doesn’t show her teeth when she finally glances at me and shrugs one shoulder. What the hell does that mean?

  “Did, um, did you want to do another song, or should we go?”

  I can tell by her tone that she’s kicked it back to responsible Morgan mode. I could tease her, dare her to stay and go another round in the hopes she’ll loosen up.

  But her stuff is still at my place.

  I tell myself that this fact is important because she should be getting home, and I should be hurrying back to Nina.

  “We can go.”

  The growl in my voice might be less than responsible, though.

  14

  MORGAN

  I drum my fingers on my knee the whole ride back to Marco’s apartment. Why the hell did I leave my stuff and my car at his? It’s like I wanted to come back here after our “date.”

  Really shouldn’t have jumped him, dumbass.

  My throat is thick, making it hard to swallow. No, I shouldn’t have literally jumped on him at the bar. No, I shouldn’t have let the music and the feeling of total, laid-back freedom go to my head like that. But really, did he have to look so good as he laughed and sang his way through that song? When was the last time I nearly peed myself laughing and needed an underwear change over how fucking hot a guy was?

  Never, probably.

  Marco parks and faces me. His smile is casual. I’m not sure if it’s intuition or guilt that makes me think he’s trying hard to put me at ease. “Come grab your stuff. I bet you’re tired, and I’ve got to get on the road.”

  I exhale quickly. “Right. Sounds good.”

  He plops on the sofa while I scurry to grab my things from the bathroom and shove them into a bag. When I come back down the hall, I find him with his head tilted back, eyes closed, long legs stretched out in front of him. He’s popped the top buttons of the black dress shirt he wore out tonight, revealing a hint of chest hair below his throat. He shaved, so his scruff is shorter and stops just below his jaw. He yawns. I don’t know why or how, but even that is hot right now.

  “I’ll just go then.”

  Dark eyes open and settle on me, that quiet smile curling from his lips to light his eyes. “This was great. I’m glad you said yes to tonight.”

  I bite my smile. “Me too. Thank you for
taking me out.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Absently, Marco reaches up and begins to rub his neck. He winces as two fingers rub circles there. I frown.

  “Still sore?”

  “Is Nina’s couch still short?”

  “Dammit, sleep in my room.” I throw one hand in the air.

  “Dammit, don’t tell me what to do,” he tosses right back.

  With a huff, I drop the bags and march over to where he’s sitting. He gazes at me, brows ticked up in curiosity. “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Hush.” I shoo his hand away and rub my hands together. “Okay, try not to be a skeptical prick, please.”

  “Doesn’t seem like me,” he mutters.

  “Shh.” My lips twitch anyway.

  I close my eyes and breathe deep, then bring my hands to either side of his neck, palms facing his skin but not touching at first. “Breathe, Marco,” I whisper, focused on channeling my energy. “Trust me here.”

  “Okay, Morgan.” His voice is soft, almost far away.

  When I center myself and feel the blood flow in my hands, I gently wrap them on him. My fingers close together at the back of his head, and my thumbs rest gently on his throat.

  My eyes fly open as soon as my thumbs touch him. “Holy shit. Your throat chakra is blocked as fuck.”

  “Now there’s something no one ever told me before.”

  “They should’ve. Your energy isn’t flowing at all. It’s like you’ve got a lot you want to say and don’t feel like you can.”

  His eyes go wide. “How did you know that?”

  I rub his throat gently. “I just told you,” I scold, not at all mad.

  While he’s still processing that, I close my eyes and hum. “You need to work on that chakra. But for now, breathe deep.”

  Reiki doesn’t pay the bills for me. I’m not good enough at it to be a master healer or anything, but I did study it when I was younger and exploring what I should do with my life. So I feel confident as I let the energy flow from my hands to his neck, pressing gently and adding a little kneading for good measure. Marco hums, a sound of relief, and so I smile and keep going.

  Because he’s sitting down, I eventually drop down on my knees in front of him to give me a better angle. I have to sit up pretty high because he’s so tall, but it’s an easy reach, and better than stooping over him if I’m standing. The fur rug pads my knees nicely and allows me to continue until I feel his energy shift and his muscles relax. Then, I open my eyes and smile. “How’s that?”

  His eyes are practically black. “It feels amazing,” he rasps. “So much better.”

  I sit up a little higher and slide my thumbs from his throat to jaw and rub circles at the hinge. “You’d do well to stop clenching your jaw, too. Not helping with that chakra, or with the tension.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Wait a second. What the fuck am I doing? My fingers are teasing the hair at the base of his head, and I am leaning way too close. So fucking close that I can feel his breath, can smell that cologne from the ridiculous bottle, can see each individual eyelash that frames his dark eyes.

  Marco’s gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth and back. His lips part slightly, tongue barely darting out to skim his lower lip. My pulse rockets. “Morgan,” he murmurs as his tongue skims his lip again.

  I fall back on my ass, holding one hand up as a feeble barrier as I scramble to my feet and cross my arms. “Listen, you jerk. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but how dare you? I’m trying to help, and you have the nerve to make a move. As if I would ever even think of kissing a—”

  He growls a laugh and threads both hands into his hair, then snaps his head up and glares at me. “Sure, I got it. As if you would ever think of kissing a scumbag like me, right?”

  I glare and purse my lips.

  On his feet, he prowls around in a little circle. “It’s fair, really. The idea of it, the history we have—the things you know about me. You have zero reason to even help me, much less put up with me making a move.”

  “Damn right. I’m out of here.”

  My hand is on the doorknob when he speaks again, soft and low and deadly hot.

  “Except there’s one problem, Morgan.”

  I glance over my shoulder and pop one brow to my hairline. “Which is?”

  He crosses his arms and smirks. “I didn’t make a move. You did.”

  “Piss off! Just because I was a little carried away at the karaoke bar doesn’t mean that it was me right now!”

  That smirk deepens, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything else. “Mmm, yeah, but if I had been making a move on you, you’d know it.”

  I roll my eyes and drop my bag again. “Why? Because your moves are so smooth they can be seen from space? Because if you make a move on a girl, her panties are on the floor before you even have to say a word?”

  I like that I can make him laugh at this moment. It’s a weird, twisted satisfaction, but it doesn’t mean I’m laughing along.

  “These days? Hardly.”

  He shuffles toward me, arms slowly dropping out of that crossed, defensive stance. Like he’s shedding armor. Even as I think it, the smirk fades to a sad kind of smile, and his eyes soften to reveal more than a little bit of pain.

  I lean against the door and look up at him. He doesn’t touch me, but it feels like he is somehow.

  “No, Morgan. You’d know because my move on you would never be a move. I’m too painfully aware of what you think of me. It would scream in my head every time I’m near you that my history of fuckups gives me zero right to ‘dare,’ as you say. So my move on you would probably be something like this.”

  He takes a deep breath but doesn’t blink from my gaze. “I’m dying to kiss you. I know I can’t ask for it, that you almost certainly don’t want it too—except there have been a few moments where I kind of think you do, and that’s fucking with my head more than anything else right now. But I want to kiss you so bad, Morgan, and I will never, ever fucking ask you for it. That’s the best I could do if I was trying to make a move.”

  One step backward and a quick shrug changes his energy, but he knew exactly what he was doing. And my knees are more wobbly than a bowl of banana pudding.

  “You really need to clear that chakra.” My voice is dust.

  “I’m trying.”

  “So I see.”

  “I’m trying a lot these days.”

  “So I’ve seen.”

  “Go home, Morgan.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Marco.”

  He flashes that smile, but I hardly notice as I take two steps and leap, just like I did at the karaoke bar. Marco catches me again and holds me like I weigh nothing. I don’t stop this time; I thread one arm around his neck and slide it into his hair. He groans, and my mouth crashes down on his.

  Marco’s arms tighten around me. My legs tighten around him. I hold his scruffy face in my hands and part my lips just as his go soft and open to me. He floods my senses: smell, taste, touch, and sound. And, god, the moan that vibrates his throat is quite a thing all on its own.

  But then his tongue finds mine.

  My heart stutters and explodes at full gallop as he teases me with little licks and slow sucks. I am eager, maybe too eager, but definitely too preoccupied to care. I whimper and chase his tongue until he hums and opens a little wider.

  Jesus, I haven’t been kissed in ages, and I don’t remember when I had a kiss this proper.

  “Marco,” I mewl against his mouth.

  “Morgan, fuck,” he gasps before those soft, full lips are on mine again and his scruff is adding just the right scratch.

  I want to lie on that faux-fur rug and feel that stubble on the inside of my thighs, dammit.

  The thought makes me squeeze him tighter with my legs. Marco groans, loud, as the seam of my pants presses straight against the ridge in his.

  Make that the sizable ridge. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Marco stumbles backward and d
rops onto the couch. His hands run up and down my back and arms until I shiver and rock my hips against him again. “God, yes,” he growls.

  “Uh-huh.” I’m panting, I can’t help it.

  One hand slides up and into my hair. Long fingers tighten, just a little bit, but the sensation shoots lightning through my body. I moan into his mouth. Marco stills a moment, then tightens his hand again, a little harder this time.

  “You like that?” he asks between kisses.

  I nod and claw at his shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing, what we’re doing, but yes I like it and hell no I don’t want him to stop.

  He tugs again, but then his touch goes gentle. “You are so beautiful.” His lips travel down my throat as he raises chills on my shoulders with his fingertips. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but… I really have to stop.”

  “No,” I wail, and then crash my mouth onto his neck to suck hard. “No, no, no.”

  He laughs, and the spell begins to dissolve. “I want you screaming the exact opposite for me. But, Nina is over an hour away. And I’ve got to get back.”

  “Cock blocked by Gram. Dammit.” I tug on his hair playfully and steal another kiss from his lips. My pulse is out of control, and I am soaked between my legs.

  But he’s got to go take care of my grandmother. And that makes my heart puddle.

  Marco laughs, but he doesn’t let me leave the kiss so soon. It’s many more minutes of enjoying that teasing tongue before we can slow down and separate. Slowly, I stumble off his lap and get to my unsteady feet.

  He crashes back against the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. “Fuck, I’m so hard right now. Maybe we could call her and…”

  “I know how hard you are,” I murmur. “But no way in hell are we leaving Gram alone.”

  “I know,” he sighs. “Can you just kiss me one more time? In case you wake the hell up and realize what a mistake this was?”

  Intuition says I’m not going to be doing that anytime soon. And that I’ll be back here as soon as Gram’s well enough to stay on her own.