“Life,” I muttered under my breath. “It wasn’t meant for me.”
I spun on my heel, nodded to Lucy that I was heading for the front doors, and I left.
***
“Running away?”
I turned and pressed my lips together. Oh God. There stood the hot guy from the bar, damp shirt and all. Why are you standing outside with me? Isn’t it enough that I threw my drink all over you and ran away? Perhaps I was entertainment and he wanted to see what amazing feat I could perform for my next trick.
“Absolutely,” I answered honestly.
“Me too.”
My eyes widened at the thought of him running away from the fluffy, botoxed beauties inside. “You are?”
He nodded seriously and looked down at his soggy shirt. “I bought someone a drink, and they threw it at me. Seems like a good excuse to ditch my friends in there and head home.” He looked back up and chuckled when he caught the flush heating my cheeks. “Share a cab?”
Before I could speak, he lifted his arm, let out a piercing whistle, and a passing cab squealed to a stop. It must have been a slow night because I’d only seen that happen in the movies. Still, I was impressed. Lucy and I hailed a cab together once on a night out a long time ago, and we’d practically had to stand in the middle of the road at the risk of becoming human speed bumps. Even then, I was sure the driver only stopped because he thought Lucy was about to throw herself on the hood.
He opened the car door and looked at me expectantly. I tucked the clutch tightly under my arm and glanced back at the bar before looking back at him, weighing my options.
“What were you hoping for?”
“You.”
Was there really an option? Because my mouth was saying okay, my legs were walking towards the car, and I was climbing in and scooting to the other side before I could even think.
He slid in beside me and pulled the door shut. His bulk crowded me, making me hyperaware of how close his leg rested near mine.
“Where do you live?”
“Campsie.”
“Campsie, mate,” he said to the cab driver.
Remembering my speedy arrival at the bar with Lucy, I hastily buckled my seat belt and sat back in my seat as the driver roared us off into the night.
“Campsie’s a bit of a hike for a cab ride,” he said.
This was not news. Rick and Lucy were supposed to be my ride. Now I’d need to take out a small loan to cover the cab fare home.
“Do you mind if I get dropped off at Woolloomooloo first? I need to get out of this wet shirt.”
“Um…sure,” I said with a nod and turned to stare out the window, not wanting him to see my obvious disappointment.
“Woolloomooloo now, mate,” he said to the cabbie. The driver waved his hand in acknowledgement and changed direction.
I grabbed my phone from my clutch and messaged Lucy that I was already cabbing it home. It buzzed soon after in response, but I tucked it away without reading the message. Instead, I risked a peek to my left and found the man’s eyes appraising me intently, as though trying to figure me out.
“So…” I tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. “What do you do?”
That was witty. Great start, Quinn.
“I’m a consultant,” he said with a wave of his hand as though it wasn’t important. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I grabbed hold of the armrest as the driver spun us around a tight turn. The manoeuvre had him leaning slightly towards me, and I inhaled the spicy scent of his skin underneath the haze of wine I’d drowned him in.
His eyes crinkled in a smile. “What do you do?”
“I’m uh… in between jobs at the moment.”
“So what do you do when you’re not in between jobs?” I focused on his lips as he spoke and realised that I wasn’t hearing a word he was saying. I bit my lip, flushing when his eyes lowered to my mouth.
“Sorry?”
He repeated his question.
“Um…I just finished uni doing business management actually, but that was part time. During the day I worked full time as a receptionist.”
Long days of work and late nights of university by correspondence had given me my degree—one thing in life that was working out for me because in two days I had a job interview lined up as assistant manager to Jamieson, one of the hottest up and coming bands in the country.
He directed the cabbie towards his address and then turned to me. “Sounds like you’re a busy girl. Who did you work for?”
“Jettison Records,” I replied.
His eyebrows flew up in apparent surprise. “Oh yeah? That’s—”
The driver squealed around another tight corner. Lost in a pair of green eyes, I wasn’t holding on for dear life. My head cracked into the side window with a painful thud.
“Ouch.” I winced.
The man cursed under his breath. “Are you okay?”
He held my cheeks gently with his fingers, tilting my head to check for an injury. My heart tripped over at his concern and the tenderness of his touch.
“Godammit, mate,” he growled angrily at the cab driver. “You bastards need to learn how to slow the fuck down.”
The driver squealed to a stop out the front of a renovated block of warehouse apartments and said, “Time is money, man.”
“Come on.” The man threw some money at driver, and then he unbuckled my seatbelt and hauled me out of the car as though I weighed a feather. “I’m not sending you home with this speed demon.”
He took my hand, lacing our fingers and led me towards the entrance of the building. “I’d drive you home…” he said, punching in some numbers on the security panel and the door unlocked. “…but I’m probably over the limit.”
One minute I was pitching my drink at a random hot guy, the next I found myself about to enter his apartment. How on earth did that happen? He pushed the door open, and I tugged my hand free. He could be a serial killer for all I knew. “Well that’s okay. I can just get another cab.”
He paused and looked at me, concern furrowing his brow. “You think I’m gonna leave you out here wandering the city streets waiting for a cab to pass by?”
I bit my lip and scanned the dark, cold streets. They were quiet and empty and in no way appealing. I turned to face him, about to tell him I’d just ring for one when he exhaled audibly, his eyes burning into mine, and said, “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” I asked breathlessly.
He let go of the door, and it closed with an audible click before we’d even stepped inside. “Biting your lip like that.”
He took both my hands in his and inched closer until the heat of his body chased away the chill in the air.
“Oh,” I muttered.
He spoke, his eyes concentrating on my lips, his voice low. “Your mouth gets all red and swollen until I want to lick it better.”
My breath hitched because it looked like he was about to do just that. He let go of my hands and cupped my face gently, his body slowly angling mine towards the red brick wall of the building. I stumbled in my navy shoes, and he cursed, his hands shifting to grip my hips tightly.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“My fault,” I breathed as his touch burned right though the pretty satin sheen of my dress and deep into my skin. My chest fluttered up and down as he used his bulk to crowd me into the wall. “I ahh…should probably get going.”
“Uh huh.”
His chest pressed against me, and I stopped breathing. I licked my lips and he groaned and leaned in, ducking his head until his mouth hovered a mere breath apart from mine.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered against my lips.
Before I could even finish saying “please,” his hold on my hips tightened and his lips crushed down on mine. He wasn’t sweet or gentle. His touch was hard and rough, as though he needed his lips on mine to breathe. I moaned when one of his hands moved from my hip to fist in my hair, tilting my head as he pressed me
into the wall.
When he pulled back, we were both panting.
“Jesus,” he gasped, his green eyes wide and lips swollen as he swallowed.
I had a second to breathe before he slammed his mouth back on mine, pulling back only long enough to breathe against my lips and ask, “Do you want to come in?”
Do I what? I was sure he was asking me something but I was lost. His body was too busy reminding me I was alive and I wanted more.
The early light of dawn brought me awake with a thumping head and a groan. My eyes felt rusted shut, and I squinted them open. Without care at the pain, they flared wide when I took in my surrounds. I was lying naked in an enormous bed with sheets the colour of tropical water. I turned left and caught a white wash bedside table in thick timber, a wallet, coins, and random receipts littering its surface. Oh my God, where the hell was I?
I turned to my right and there he was—the drought breaker. The holy fuck me gorgeous guy. The man I’d dazzled with my lack of wit and wine glass handling skills. He was on his stomach, one arm curled under the pillow with the sheet barely covering his firm backside. I ran my eyes up the tanned, muscular back to the wide, beautiful tattooed wings of an eagle that spanned his shoulders. I’d never seen anything like it: the detail, the raw beauty in the colours, the haunting shadows. I liked looking at him while he was sleeping. The hardness in his features appeared almost peaceful. There was no trace of the saddened expression I’d caught a glimpse of last night. Perhaps it had simply been my imagination running away with me.
Floozy! I shouted silently.
The mute scream reverberated painfully in my head until I remembered last night and how much care he’d taken with giving my body more pleasure than I’d ever known. I felt the shame die away at the memory. The man was…wait a minute. I didn’t get his name. I let a guy take me back to his place, and I slept with him, literally, and I didn’t know his name!
Floozy! I shouted again.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I closed my eyes but all it did was bring back memories of last night, and they were hot. He hadn’t just broken the drought; he’d exploded me out of it in a fever so hot I felt almost blistered.
He groaned softly in his sleep and turned his head to face me, one hand shifting from under the pillow to rest near his face. My breathing quickened as I remembered those hands. They were strong and calloused, and he’d used them to shove me up against the wall and push his way inside my body. All the while his soft, full lips travelled hungrily along my neck, biting down on my ear until I thought I’d pass out. He’d ripped his shirt off hurriedly, exposing smooth golden skin covered in muscled ridges and a little silver barbell piercing in his right nipple. When I’d boldly tugged on it with my teeth, he groaned and the sound set me on fire. When I threw back my head and banged it hard on the wall, he simply turned us around and shoved me down on the bed without missing a beat. The man pushed every single button I had. Well, I only had the one, but he’d pushed it enough so that when I went off the edge, I didn’t just fall. I took a soaring dive of toe curling, throat baring pleasure.
Unfortunately dawn was now announcing its arrival, returning me to solid ground with a thud called “the awkward morning after.” Despite the fact I never went out anymore, I was aware that one night stand etiquette involved flashy “do not linger” neon signage.
I found my yellow dress on the floor. The pretty satin was crumpled, and I winced at its careless abandon in the cold light of day. Next to it sat my matching lace underwear. I held up the panties, noting they had a tear, not from being completely ripped off, but definitely torn in the desperation of swift removal. I closed my eyes for a brief moment to relive the memory of them fisted in his hands as he yanked them down my legs.
I took deep breaths to cool the surge of heat as I finished dressing. I dragged my fingers through my snarls and ran fingertips under my eyes, all the while prepping my mental fortress for the walk of shame.
I heard my phone shrill loudly from somewhere beyond the bedroom. Shoes in hand, I tiptoed out of the room to go search for it. Unfortunately he lived in a loft that appeared huge, and an immediate scan did not bring my phone or my little clutch to light. I heard a noise and my frantic search began in earnest, upending couch cushions, on chairs, looking behind bookshelves, under tables.
“Looking for something?”
I paused and closed my eyes, swallowing hard.
This was not cool.
This shit was so. not. cool.
On hands and knees I turned towards the voice to see a man in the kitchen that was not the man I had left sleeping in bed—full lips, short dirty blond hair—staring at me as he stood there in nothing but running shorts. My gaze lingered on a trail of sweat that ran down the middle of his chest to sink into his shorts, and I flushed from the tips of my mussed hair to the bottoms of the pretty pink toenail polish I’d applied with painstaking care yesterday.
The man cleared his throat, loudly, and my eyes snapped to his amused gaze.
“Oh.” I got up off my hands and knees. “I was just um…searching for my bag.”
He chuckled and pointed to my little clutch, sitting on the counter of the kitchen bench as though it was quite happy where it was and wasn’t prepared to leave. “You mean this one?”
I ran a hand over the wrinkled mess of my dress, fighting the urge to just let the clutch have its way and leave without it. Instead, I moved fast, snatching it off the bench and holding it to my chest.
The man’s grin got wider as he took in the dress that was busy proclaiming my lack of moral fibre.
“I’m Casey.”
My eyes fell to the hand he was holding out, and I took it in mine briefly. “Um…Quinn. I’m Quinn,” I managed before letting go of his hand and taking a step back. I indicated towards the door. “I’ll ah…just let myself out.”
“Wait,” Casey called when I started to flee. “Can I get you breakfast? Did Travis offer you a ride home?”
My eyebrows flew up. “Travis?”
Casey’s amusement returned at my confusion, and he nodded towards the bedroom I’d just come from.
I mumbled a rather unintelligent and nonsensical response and grabbed for the handle of the front door just as it was shoved open from the other side. I stumbled from the force, falling down on my backside with a painful and embarrassing thud.
“Oh shit. Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” I heard the door shover exclaim.
I pushed the hair out of my face to see another gorgeous guy standing before me. Wasn’t the saying all bad things happened in threes? Was it the same case with guys? Do all hot guys happen in threes? If so, why didn’t I get the memo? This one looked a lot like Travis with his green eyes, golden skin, and silky hair, though his was dark brown, short, and mussed, as though he ran his fingers through it constantly.
I grasped the hand he was patiently holding out, and he hauled me up off the floor. I stumbled awkwardly to my feet.
“Why you’re just a little thing, aren’t you?” He observed, his eyes running the length of me.
I straightened my back, flushing wildly enough under the scrutiny to break out in a light sweat. He turned to look at Casey as I tried tugging my hand free but he held on tight.
“Airport hotdog. Five minutes.”
Casey let out a groan. “Not you with the nickname too.”
My mouth fell open as the other man laughed. “Hotdog?”
Casey looked at me and shook his head. “Don’t even ask.”
Assuming it was some lewd reference to wieners and buns I could only agree and shut my mouth.
“I’m Mitch,” the man said to me.
“Quinn,” I replied politely, tugging my hand free.
Mitch looked between Casey and me with a slight smirk. “So…you two know each other, huh?”
Before I could offer a retort, Casey grinned again and shook his head. “No, but she knows Travis, don’t you, Quinn?”
Oh my God.
Just to round out my embarrassment, the bedroom door opened and Travis emerged. The unfairness that he looked even better this morning than he did last night was not lost on me. The jeans he’d slid on were only half buttoned up, his hair was mussed from sleep, and his eyes were lowered sleepily, not making me want him any less than I did last night—even without the alcohol pulsing through my system.
Without replying to Casey, and before I could be noticed by Travis, I slipped quickly out the door, pulled it shut, and ran.
***
After messaging Lucy, I felt pathetically grateful to see her squealing up the quiet street like Batman. Thankfully it was still early, and I didn’t have to worry about being seen by the public in what was obviously last night’s outfit. The door of her crappy, beat up Toyota Corolla creaked loudly as I flung it open and climbed in the passenger seat. The car was clean, yet it still smelled like a pair of week old gym socks. No matter how many aromatic hanging trees she had hung over the rear view mirror, the smell still remained. After buckling my seatbelt, she squealed off into the street.
“Holy shit, girlfriend!” she shrieked when she took in my dire appearance with a sideways glance. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the hedge backwards.”
I had no idea where to begin with that statement after the encounter I just had. Instead, I wound down the window and let the fresh, cool air blast away the residual heat of embarrassment on my cheeks.
“This is your fault,” I told her.
If it wasn’t for Lucy, I’d have been sitting at home last night, completely oblivious that such a man like Travis even existed. Now the vision of him biting down on my skin as his hips ground hard into mine was stuck on the repeat button inside my head, and I feared it would never stop. I didn’t want it to stop. Already, my body was craving his touch again.
Give Me Strength Page 3