by BJ Harvey
A groan comes from behind me. “Gabs?” Bruno asks sleepily, sounding so much like sex, whiskey, and cigars in that one syllable that I’m ready to jump him all over again. Promises to myself of just one time be damned—maybe . . .
I look over my shoulder to hooded eyes and parted lips. “It’s Kenz,” I mouth.
He nods and drapes his arm over his face, rolling away from me. Standing quietly, I walk out of the room and down the hall into my living room.
“You there? I heard a voice . . .” she says. I hate keeping things from my best friend but I don’t since it’s only a one-time thing, or maybe one and a half, this particular thing doesn’t count…does it?
Besides, it’s definitely not going anywhere so there’s no point getting her hopes up or earning myself a lecture about fraternization. I plant my butt on the arm of the couch and fall back on to the cushions with a hmph before responding.
“Sorry. I just lay down on the bed and zonked out for twenty minutes. Maybe it was my mattress you heard?” I ask.
She snickers but thankfully doesn’t sound skeptical. “A nap on a Tuesday? Has all that fiddling worn you out?”
If only she knew . . . “Nothing’s worth doing unless you do it well and you do it right.”
“You would know,” she retorts making me giggle.
“Hey, I’m proud of my ability to get myself off in three minutes or less. It’s a fine art. A skill I’ve finessed over a number of years spent being single.”
“You don’t have to be, you know,” she says, her voice turning soft. “You’re a catch. Especially since you can get yourself off if a man’s too quick off the trigger.”
Bruno definitely doesn’t have that problem.
“Everyone needs a skill to be proud of,” I reply with a wry smile. I need to change the subject otherwise I might tell Kenzie about the three orgasms I just had that weren’t self-induced. “Heard from Millen?” I ask, making her sigh.
“Not yet. It’s been a week and I’m starting to obsess a bit. So I’ve decided to stop thinking about it and just continue living my life, and when he calls—which I’m sure he will—”
“Of course he will. There’s no way a guy works that hard for it then walks away. I saw you guys together. That was not a man who was in it to hit it and quit it.”
“You have such a way with words, Gabs.” She giggles, and I hear a low hum of people talking down the phone.
“Are you at work?” I check the clock on the wall seeing it’s already two o’clock. Shit, it’s later than I thought. I’ll have to go in myself soon.
“Yeah. I figured the easiest way to take my mind off him was to come in early and do some ordering.”
“You want help?” Not that I want to leave the situation waiting for me in my bedroom but it’s nice to offer, right?
“Nah, I’m on top of it. You’ll be here soon anyway.”
That’s if I’m not on top of someone else. “Alright. Let me sort myself out and I’ll head in.”
She groans and I imagine her sitting behind her desk, banging her head against it. “Is that code for rubbing one out? Because Gabs, I love you, but I really don’t need to know your masturbation schedule. That’s the one thing I never need to know.”
“That’s because you have a fine piece of ass and from everything you’ve told me, he doesn’t have anything to worry about when it comes to stamina.”
She doesn’t reply straight away, and when she does, it’s soft and quiet. “He will call back, right?”
My chest tightens at the vulnerability in her voice. “Babe, he’d be an idiot not to, and if he is a dickwad and he ghosts you, then it’s totally his loss.” There’s no question in my mind that he won’t call her though. He looked as smitten as she is.
“Well I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing that I really don’t wanna know about.”
I giggle, unable to stop from smiling. “That’d be good.”
“Bye, babe.”
“See you soon,” I add before ending the call.
A cough from down the hall brings my attention back to the house guest who’s naked and waiting for me back in my bedroom.
I mull over what I’m going to say to him. How do you say, “That was fun but we can’t do it again” without sounding like a callous hussy only looking for a dicking?
Reaching my bedroom doorway, I’m met by warm brown eyes shining up at me. Bruno’s face is soft, his expression open and transparent as his gaze travels down my tank-covered breasts to my bare legs and back up again.
Needing to say something, I open my mouth while moving towards him. “So, you know this doesn’t mean anything, right?”
I put a knee to the bed and lean over him. It’s like I can’t control myself. He lays there looking like sex and bad decisions, my body having a mind—hell, a life force—of its own where he’s concerned.
“This definitely means something, Gabs, but I’m willing to wait around until you figure that out. Until then though . . .”
“Until then, what?”
His eyes rake over my body, sending a wave of heat surging through me. “I’ll just have to remind you why you should give in to me again.”
And for the next thirty minutes, he reminds me once, twice . . . yep, three times.
Once and done might be harder than I thought.
Chapter 6
The problem with telling yourself one thing when you really want the opposite is that you become fixated on what you cannot have.
Before Bruno made his intentions clear to me, I knew him, but I didn’t pay attention to him.
They warn you about taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, but rarely do I listen. When the bite involves Bruno, it’s become evident that it’s not so easy to move on and pretend nothing happened.
Three months have passed since we slept together that afternoon—yes, more than once—and he told me “next time, you will be the one coming to me.” After a kiss on my lips, a soft slide of his hand down my arm, and a knowing grin, he walked out of my house with a “See ya round, Gabs.”
Then it was back to situation normal.
He’s made moving on seem effortless. For me, my lust has become a simmering need, growing hotter the more I see him, am near him, and don’t let myself have him.
He’s a new addiction I’m growing desperate to get another hit of.
Since that glorious afternoon delight, I’ve tried to ignore him as much as I can—professionally, of course. Tried being the operative word, because when a man like Bruno is in your stratosphere, it’s near impossible to not want and need him, craving the way I know he can make me feel.
A month ago, I almost gave in. Kenzie had left early with Drew, her new friend with benefits, and I was left manning the fort on a relatively quiet Tuesday night with Mark, Sadie, and Bruno.
With most of the clean-up done by the time the last customer had left, I told Mark and Sadie to go, and said to Bruno I wouldn’t be long as I walked out back to the office to count the night’s takings and make sure everything was set for lunch shift the next day.
Ten minutes later, I’d caught movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up to see Bruno leaning against the doorjamb. His gaze had been unreadable but in that moment, he’d been different to the man I’d been trying not to watch every shift we worked together.
I hadn’t wanted to notice him. That would have meant admitting just how much I actually did want to see him. Except that night, my guard had been down, I’d been tired, and looking at him across the room, all I’d wanted was another glimpse of his softer, more private side that he hid from everyone.
I’d turned my attention back to the task at hand, counting the bills on my desk. Knowing he was watching me, I’d lost where I was up to, my muscles tensing, my entire body buzzing as the air in the room grew thick.
I’d glanced up at him apologetically. “Sorry, I won’t be a minute.”
“Take all
the time you need. I’m enjoying the view.” His warm-like-honey voice had washed over me, bringing with it a wave of warmth centering between my legs. It had reminded me of how he’d rasped against my skin when he was buried deep inside me, and like the traitorous bitch she was, my body had wanted that again. Promises of once and done be damned.
“Bruno—”
He’d crossed the room, rounding the desk until he towered over me, his hand reaching out to tuck a wisp of hair back behind my ear.
Unable to stop myself, I’d stood to face him, bringing our bodies closer together. Having him that close to me, knowing we were alone, remembering the last time we were in the office together, I’d forgotten all the reasons I’d told myself this wasn’t going to happen again.
When I’d looked up to meet his hooded eyes, everything I was feeling had been reflected back at me. I’d risen on my toes and brushed my lips against his—a soft touch that in no way matched the desire raging inside of me. I’d pulled back with a gasp, the realization of what I’d done dawning on me.
My retreat had been stopped by his strong arm hooking around my waist and tugging me hard against him. His other hand had tangled in my hair, tilted my head to the side, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I’ve been waiting for you to chase me, Gabs. What we shared meant something then and it’ll still mean something the day you finally give in to me.”
“It didn’t—”
Then he’d kissed me, claiming my mouth like a starving man in need of food. It had been hard and punishing. I’d clung to his arms, my fingers digging into his shirt, holding on for dear life as he’d knocked me on my ass—figuratively—with the hottest damn kiss I’d ever had in my life.
Then it had been over. His lips had softened, his hold had loosened, and when he’d finally dragged his mouth away from mine, my desperate whimper had echoed around the room leaving my body—and mind—aching for more.
After making sure I was steady, he’d taken a step back and that guard of his was put back in place, his gaze unreadable.
“I’ll meet you at the front door,” he’d announced gruffly before turning around and out of the room.
I’d stood there watching him go, my heart racing, my breathing ragged, and what was left of my brain scattered all over the office floor. Not five minutes later, he’d walked me out to my car without a word, and stood beside his truck while I reversed my car out of the parking spot, and drove away.
Since that night, I haven’t been able to stop myself from watching him. Fantasizing about him. Getting myself off to the memory of him over me, on me, and how he felt deep inside me.
Now, every shift we work together, I always know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s talking to, and who he’s talking to longer than necessary. It’s wrong. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to notice him.
A part of me wants to catch him watching me so I know I’m not the only one.
Since then Bruno has continued acting nonchalant, as if he hadn’t rocked my world and ruined me for all future men—not that I’d ever admit that. If slow and steady wins the race, then Bruno is a freaking champion at the long game. Especially since telling me we meant something then stubbornly leaving the ball in my court. I guess we’re both headstrong in that respect.
Tonight, though, I sense a change in the air. It’s like smelling rain before the weather takes a turn. I can sense it.
Bruno acts no differently when he arrives, and the night passes like every other night we’ve worked together since we hooked up. We’re professional, cordial, and friendly. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I’m on edge and I don’t know why. We’re fairly busy and thankfully, that keeps my mind from fixating on a certain bouncer. I always like to have fun with the patrons. It helps the shift go quickly. A bit of innocent flirtation here, a grin and a laugh there, and before I know it, it’s almost close to last call.
It’s then I glance towards the front door to see Bruno standing at his post just inside the entrance, and a tall gorgeous redhead in a fire station red bandage dress leaning into him, everything she’s offering on full display. That’s nothing new—I don’t know a woman alive who would not want to take a chance on a sliver of attention from Bruno. What’s different this time is that Bruno isn’t waving the woman off like he normally does. No, he’s engaging with her. He’s normally chatty with the patrons, but I haven’t seen him like this before. His body language is welcoming, his curved grin is eager, and his eyes are animated and full of something that I don’t want to admit bothers me—interest. All things my brain screams should be directed at me. When he reaches out and places his hand on her arm, it hits me.
Oh fuck! I’m jealous. Holy shit. I’m actually jealous of her.
Of all the things I should be feeling right now—tired, stressed, looking forward to last call in a few hours’ time—none of those are making an appearance thanks to the green-eyed monster growling inside of me.
I turn away, unease and regret making me uncomfortable as I’m called to the end of the bar for a drink order. Whatever this is—or was—needs to end. I have to sort my head out if I don’t want this to affect my job. I allowed myself that one time, and I wanted it to stay that way. So why am I still affected by him?
I’m unable to stop myself. Another glance to the front of the room sees Bruno standing alone and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes my lips. That’s until I catch the woman now sitting at the end of the bar, her eyes firmly glued to the man at the door. Fuck!
Dalyn and Mark are both still at the bar and stay with us girls till we’ve finished. Bruno leaves soon after closing, waving to everyone as he goes before meeting my eyes and giving me a slow nod, and walking out the door to be met by the woman in red.
Gone is the jealousy I felt before, now replaced with anger. At myself or at Bruno, I’m not quite sure, but I’m uneasy with the feeling. I busy myself with cleaning the bar and try to comprehend what it all means and why there’s an ache in my chest when I shouldn’t care.
That’s when the resignation sets in. This is my consequence. I obviously can’t say no to the guy, let him kiss me and tell me it means something, and not want to act on it.
Annoyed and needing to escape, I move out of the bar to find Kenzie, who’s sitting behind the desk in the office doing paperwork.
“Hey,” I say, stepping inside and dropping into the chair opposite her.
“Hey.” Her tone is tired, yet distracted—and not just from the EFTPOS receipts in front of her.
Her eyes narrow when she looks up, her full attention now on me. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice filled with concern.
She doesn’t know about Bruno. She went through a lot when Millen disappeared into thin air, and she’s finally come back into herself over the last few weeks. I haven’t wanted to pile my stupid crap on top of that.
Then last week, Millen—the man who just three months ago came in and swept Kenzie off her feet before disappearing just as fast—walked into the bar with Kenzie’s high school nemesis, Lana Mason, on his arm, and his ring on her finger.
One could say that his return has been a bit of a mind fuck.
I shrug, and lean back in the chair. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.” Not a lie, except it’s more like a long three months.
Tilting her head, she studies me. “Why don’t you take off? I’m gonna be here a while, and Mark’s going to do a stock take for me. Go home and sleep. We’ll catch up tomorrow.” She looks back down at the papers on her desk and sighs. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? I think Drew said he’ll call round but we can just Netflix and girl-chill until then.”
That brings a smile to my face because as always, Kenzie knows exactly what I need. “You’re awesome. You know that?”
She grins. “It’s what I do.”
I stand as she hands me my purse from behind the desk. “Drive safe. Tell Dalyn he can walk you out to your car and take off as well.”
“Sounds good. Go,” she says, waving towards the door. “Return to the diddle cave and get some rest.”
“Isn’t the point of the diddle cave not to sleep?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Orgasms help you decompress. Well, that’s what Drew says and he’s very helpful that way. You need a Drew.”
“You offering his services?”
“Maybe not him,” she says coyly. “Someone like him.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll get right on that. But on that note, I’ll go.”
I stand and leave the room, waving goodbye to my closest friend. “Dal, do you mind walking me to my car? Kenz says you can take off too,” I say, walking back into the bar.
“All good.” He grabs his keys from behind the bar and walks over, holding out his arm and leading me out the door.
The warm spring air hits me when we get outside, the street almost empty as we make our way along the sidewalk and around the corner of the building to the parking lot.
Then his arm is gone. “I think someone is waiting for you,” he says curiously before grinning and walking away.
My eyes lift up at his words and I stop dead in my tracks, all of my anger, regret, and confusion returning when I see Bruno—sans gorgeous redhead—leaning against his truck right next to my car.
His dark eyes track me as I walk towards him, trying to look unaffected when in reality I’m anything but. As much as I’m relieved that he’s alone and hasn’t gone home with that woman, I’m torn. I have no hold over this man just as much as he has no hold over me. But a deep part of me—a place where I haven’t let anyone go for a long, long time—desperately wants him to. That is what scares me more than anything. Not Bruno, it’s what could happen if I let myself be with him.
“I thought you’d be long gone.” With the sexy redhead who couldn’t keep her hands off you.
His intense gaze softens. “She asked me if I’d make sure she got home safe.”
I know he’s trying to get a reaction from me and dammit, he’s getting one. “Yet you’re still here.”