Turning around, I place my hands on her hips and groan as the feel of her makes my heart race. She doesn't seem to care that I'm touching her since nothing sarcastic comes out of her smart mouth. Her hands reach up and land on my chest.
Jesus.
She has better use of her fractured hand now. Before, she was holding it pretty still, but she's moving it as much as the splint will allow.
I wonder just how much she is able to do with that hand.
I close my eyes, feeling myself grow hard. It doesn't help that her body is all pushed up against mine in that tight little dress. I want to fuck her so bad, it's taking over my rational feelings for her.
Why can't I push her away and go find some girl who doesn't do my head in and who is very up for coming home with me tonight?
Savannah reacts to me just the way I want her to when she's not hating on me. Her body arches into mine, her stormy eyes hooded and pink lips slightly parted. She has never looked so beautiful before, and I want to kiss her so much.
I pull her closer, and I'm sure she can feel my erection against her stomach, but she doesn't address it. Not sure if that's a good thing or not. The fact that she looks like she wants to jump my bones is a good sign though.
Leaning in, I brush my lips against her ear and whisper, "You have no idea how desperate I am to slip my hand under that dress."
Even over the sound of the music, I hear her gasp. I back up an inch, so I can see her. She presses her lips together, but her cheeks are flushed.
"What makes you think I'd let you do that?"
Smirking, I reply, "Really? You're plastered against my chest, giving me looks that make me want to fuck you right here."
With a heavy blink, she moves back a little, so we're not pressed against each other. I don't really mind because I know why she's doing it, and as much as I want to tug her back, I love how hard she's fighting this.
"We're just dancing," she argues.
"That's how you always dance with men?"
Her light eyebrows pull together. "I don't usually dance with men."
"Oh God, please tell me you dance like this with women. Can I watch?"
Her mouth pops open, and her good hand whacks my chest. Laughing, I hold on to her tight in case she tries to get away. I'm so not done with her.
"I think we should go and get another drink," she says.
"Why? Because you're scared of what will happen if we keep dancing?"
We're going to end up in bed together eventually; it's inevitable. We both feel it, but I don't know if she's going to allow herself to act on it.
I would act right now if she were game. I'm over obsessing about being inside her to the point that I'm sorting myself out in the shower every day.
We're terrible together, but in bed, I know we'd be dynamite.
She glares, but the effect is lost somewhat by the fire in her eyes. "Drink, Kent."
"As you wish." I let go of her, and she drops her arms. Before she can walk off, I take her hand and lead her toward the bar.
I don't hold hands, so this feels weird. It's not a bad weird, but it makes my chest tight. Savannah doesn't tell me to fuck off either. Her fingers are between mine, curled tightly into the back of my hand.
We fit.
We approach the bar, and I pull her in front of me. Letting go of her, I place my hands on the black graphite bar. With my arms on either side of her, I've trapped her in. She leans her back against my chest--and there's the coconut--and I don't know how she can even try to deny the way she feels.
Denying us naked time is hurting her as well as my dick.
"What're you drinking?" I ask, leaning into her back.
"Something different. What are you having?"
"Beer."
She nods. "Then, I want beer."
Fuck me, I would love to taste beer on her tongue.
"I'm hard," I murmur into her ear.
She looks up at me over her shoulder. "I know."
"Fucking tease. Let me take you back to mine. I have beer."
She turns around between my arms, and we're now face-to-face. "Is that how you get women?"
"No, I don't usually have to try."
She scrunches her nose up, but it's true. I'm awesome, great in bed, and hung like a fucking elephant. Women are happy to be under me. Savannah is making me work hard for it.
And I love that.
"You're disgusting, Kent."
"No, I'm honest."
"See, now, I don't want to sleep with you because I'm afraid I'll catch something."
I roll my eyes. "I'm clean, and you know it."
"How would I know it?"
Taking a deep breath, I battle the urge to either take her over my knee or strangle her. Instead, I step closer and press her up against the bar. "You just do."
I've always been careful and had the necessary checks. I might sleep around, but I always wrap up.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asks, lifting her eyebrow.
"Us?"
She nods.
"No, I don't, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop." I graze my lips against her jaw and up to her ear. "When I want a woman, it's only a matter of time before I sleep with her. Granted, you're dragging this out so much, I've been left with permanent blue balls, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm going to be inside you soon."
I pull back. Her eyes blaze with anger, but her chest heaves with passion. She's having a massive internal debate, and I'm so looking forward to finding out whether she'll focus on hating me or getting into my pants.
"You're very sure of yourself," she rasps.
"After this afternoon, yes, I am sure."
Shoving my chest, she frees herself. "Don't be. I'm not like the rest of them."
Don't I know it?
Storming past me, she heads in the direction of our table.
I bite back a smile as I wait to place our drink order.
When I walk over to our table with our drinks, Savannah is sitting there, talking to another guy.
The motherfucker has his arm over the back of the booth, leaning in.
I stand over them and slam the glass bottles down on the table so hard, half of the alcohol spills.
The fucker's little beady eyes look at the drinks and then at me. "Can I help you?" he asks.
"Yeah, you can fuck off."
"Kent!" Savannah chastises.
Is she fucking serious?
"What are you doing?"
The guy shifts in his seat. "Is this your boyfriend?"
Savannah snaps, "No."
He holds his hand up. "I'm not looking to get in the middle of anything."
Neither Savannah nor I look at the prick as he gets up and walks off; we're too busy glaring at each other.
"You spilled the drinks," she says.
I laugh, but there's no humour behind it. I don't care about the fucking drinks. "That's all you have to say?"
Slipping out of the booth, she puts her hands on her hips. "I don't know what your problem is, but you need to back off."
"My problem? You're the one coming around my fingers and practically fucking me on the dance floor and against the bar, and then I come back to find you with that dickhead!"
"I was not nearly fucking you, and you're the one with the massive head, assuming I want you like everyone else."
"Savannah, you admitted it."
"Oh my God, you're so annoying!"
"Are you drunk?"
"No!" she snaps.
"Suffer from severe short-term memory loss?"
She growls, and her face turns red. "Fuck off, Kent!"
"You fuck off."
"Oh, good one."
Jesus, what the hell is her problem? My chest burns, temper ready to bust. "You know what, Savannah? Go back and find that guy."
Dismissively waving her good hand at me, she replies, "Maybe I will, and you go find someone nice and easy to sleep with tonight. Big tits at the bar seemed up for it."
&
nbsp; "I will."
"Have fun with your syphilis."
I turn around, burning with anger, and scan the crowd. Fucking syphilis. I can't deny that her comeback was much better than mine, but I'm sure as hell not going to admit it to her.
Ignoring whatever she's doing behind me--I don't care anyway--I head over to a woman at the bar. She was eyeing me earlier, so she's the easiest bet tonight.
Smiling as I lean on the bar beside her, I say, "That dress is really working for me."
She turns to the side and smiles. I know I've got her. "Is that right?"
I drag my eyes down her body. "Oh, yeah."
All I can think is how much better Savannah's dress and her body work for me.
Well, she can get the fuck off my mind.
What am I thinking? If she was easy to expel from my head, I would have done it a long time ago.
I'm so over Savannah. This new chick is coming home with me.
15
Savannah
My head hurts. The previous night's events come flooding back the second I open my eyes in the morning.
I pull my legs into my stomach and groan. What the hell was I thinking with Kent last night? Well, he asked me to dance, and he was being nice and flirty, so I thought we were getting on. He was the one coming on to me. Until I told him where to go, and he moved on to another woman, that is. Though he left alone.
I got jealous, and we argued like a damn married couple.
Oh my God, can the ground swallow me up, please?
How am I supposed to face seeing him at Heidi's birthday barbeque today?
Maybe I can pretend I'm sick. Heidi wasn't around to see my argument with Kent last night, so she won't know I'm lying.
Kent will though. But I'm firmly back to not caring what he thinks.
I reach for my phone to text Heidi and warn her that I'm not well, so I might not make it today. I'll give her the gift I bought when I see her at work on Monday.
Unlocking my phone, I see three missed calls from an unknown number.
My finger hovers above the screen to ring it back. Unknown numbers always make me nervous since I left my parents' house.
I should just ignore it and call Kent. There's some damage control that I should work on since I've become friends with his whole family. A part of me wants to do that. I want to call him and say everything that's on my mind, but the other part doesn't ever want to see him again. I'm so stupid for thinking he actually liked me, that our rocky start was over.
I always run from confrontation. I keep to myself, so I can't be hurt again. I've become a shadow of my old self because of my past. I don't want to keep running. I want to be strong again.
The old me wouldn't take any crap.
Jesus, I can't believe I'm doing this.
With a deep breath that has my heart thumping, I call the landline number I'd missed.
"Savannah?"
I drop the phone like it's on fire, and my hand flies to my throat.
"Sav?" My name is quieter this time because my phone is facedown on my bed, but his voice is unmistakable.
Simon.
How did he get my number?
No.
My heart drops.
I flip it over and end the call.
When I ran away, I changed my number. I'm going to have to do that again. Heidi is going to ask why, so I'm going to have to tell another lie.
My phone starts ringing again, so I flick it on silent.
This is just fucking fabulous.
My doorbell rings. I rub my temples.
Whoever it is needs to go away. It's Sunday, and after last night, I don't want to see another human for at least twenty-four hours.
Everything can go to hell.
Fuck Simon.
Tears sting my eyes. He wasn't supposed to find me. I can't have him calling.
The bell rings again.
Sighing sharply, I shove the quilt off me and get up, leaving my phone flashing with another call from Simon.
Not happening, arsehole.
I stomp through my apartment like a kid having a tantrum and yank my door open.
Kent looks up, and apparently, I can't catch a fucking break.
"Yes?" I say as a greeting. I'm on edge, my hands shaking from the shock of hearing Simon's voice.
Kent doesn't speak. His eyes trail down my body.
I'm still wearing an oversize T-shirt. I'm wearing only an oversize T-shirt.
Perfect.
Folding my arms over my chest, I glare. "What do you want, Kent?"
His eyes find mine again. "I wanted to see how you were."
"Why?"
He shrugs.
"I'm fine. Take care."
I grip the edge of the door and close it, but Kent shoves his arm in the way. He slides through the gap, and he's in my apartment.
"I'd kill for a coffee."
"If you don't leave, the only thing being killed will be you."
"Your place is nice," he says, looking around, ignoring me.
I want to be madder at him than I already am, but I can't. He doesn't look out of place in my living room.
I slam the door shut. "I'm putting shorts on. You make the coffee."
"I don't know where everything is."
"You're a big boy. I'm sure you'll figure it out." The very second the words leave my mouth, I know I've messed up.
Kent laughs. "Yes, I am, baby."
I roll my eyes as I walk away from him and into my bedroom. I'd love to kick him out, and I will, but I do want to hear what he's got to say first. Kent doesn't seem like the kind of person to go apologising to a woman, so this, whatever it is, will be interesting.
I throw on a pair of shorts and dash into my bathroom to brush my teeth. My reflection in the mirror is awful. Hair is a wild mess, matted at the side, and I didn't properly remove my makeup because I have two thin black lines under my eyes from my mascara.
Excellent.
At least Kent was too fixed on my semi-naked body to notice my face.
Dragging a brush through my long hair, I manage to tame it, so it looks somewhat decent. I don't care about dressing up in front of Kent though, so I take a wipe and run it under my eyes. I'm not putting makeup on today.
Closing my eyes, I grip the edge of the sink. Keep calm. Everything is going to be okay.
Unlocking my bathroom door, I walk through my bedroom and into the kitchen/living area.
Kent is pouring boiling water into two mugs when I make my way over.
"You have milk and no sugar, right?" he asks.
It's such a weird and domesticated question, which sounds odd, coming from him.
"Milk, no sugar, yeah."
What are we doing?
I stop beside him and watch him tip a spoonful of sugar into his mug. He glances at me, his eyes drinking me in.
Why does he have to be so good-looking? I've not been this attracted to a man in ... forever. Physically attracted. Beyond skin deep, I just think he's a massive twat.
"You're staring, Savannah."
"I've not seen you look away yet, Kent."
His eyebrow rises, and the corner of his lip quirks. "You're fun in the morning."
"Just finish the coffee, so you can be on your way." I turn away and go sit on my sofa.
I don't like him being here. He's too close to my life, being in my apartment. Heidi has only been here a couple of times.
Although he went off and spoke to a woman, he didn't actually do anything. He calmed down, said good-bye to Heidi and his friends, and left alone. Toby didn't say anything, but he was the one to witness our argument. Heidi had been dancing with a guy, and Max had taken off with a woman he'd met.
Kent joins me and puts the drinks on the coffee table. "Hungover?" he asks.
"Nope."
"You're angry. Why are you angry?"
Is he for real?
"I'm not angry. I'm annoyed."
Annoyed at Kent for leading me on, annoyed at myself f
or falling for it, and annoyed at Simon for being such a massive prick. My phone is in the bedroom, and I don't dare look at it yet. Simon is forcing me to change my number. I don't know who he'll tell, but my parents haven't tried to get ahold of me yet, so he must have kept it to himself. Unless, of course, my parents aren't really that interested in contacting me.
"Why are you annoyed?"
"You woke me up," I quip, lying through my teeth.
"That's it?" He shifts his body, and his leg presses against mine. "I'm sorry about last night."
"You have nothing to apologise for."
"I don't?" he asks.
I nod my head, diverting my eyes. "Nope. Most of the time, you can barely stand me, so I really don't know why you feel the need to say sorry."
He's not even voiced what he's saying sorry for.
"Savannah," he whispers.
Defiantly, I ignore his plea and reach for my coffee. I cannot wait to get this damn splint off. This morning, the restricted movement is proper pissing me off.
"I don't dislike you."
Rolling my head, I look up at him. "You don't?" My words are sarcastic because he certainly does dislike me.
"No. You irritate the fuck out of me, but I don't dislike you."
I get the impression he silently added anymore on the end there.
"Why do I irritate you?"
"Because you're not being you. I see you hold back so much that you want to say."
How the hell does he see that?
I clench my teeth.
"Why are you holding back?" he asks.
Fuck off.
"I'm not holding back. I just have very little patience for bullshit, so I prefer to keep to myself." That is true. Since Simon, I have no time for most people.
He watches me for a minute. I'm not sure if he's going to push the matter or let it go.
"All right." He nods. "So, if we're not arguing, I'll get the real Savannah? Like the first part of last night."
Ah, the part before we argued in the middle of the club.
"Maybe. If you can manage not to piss me off."
Chuckling, he throws his arm over the back of my sofa. The tension in his muscles is gone. I think he believes me.
He smirks. "I'll try my best. Do you want to talk about me getting you off with my fingers or us almost having sex on the dance floor?"
My back stiffens. "No."
What the fuck? Who brings that up? Well, Kent does.
"Are you sure? I'm trying not to piss you off, so to do that, we should talk about what happened."
"You know nothing about women! That's the exact opposite of what will not piss me off."
How is an intelligent man, who is also a successful business owner, so fucking stupid?
"I wanted to take you home, too," he says.
"Oh my God, Kent, stop." I don't need his pity. This whole thing is humiliating enough as it is.
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