by Sara Cate
"Finally!" she shouts in the way of greeting. "I was beginning to think you were blowing me off."
"And why would I do that?"
Could it be because I'm not exactly thrilled about spending Christmas with you and your new husband, aka my college boyfriend?
Instead of answering my question, Valerie starts rambling about what she's been doing to get her father-in-law's place ready for the festivities. I have to admit I'm a little jealous of how she's settling into the family I thought would be mine one day. I've met Knox's mom a few times but never his dad in all the years we dated. But I guess that's partially my fault since he did invite me plenty of times to come with him to Colorado. Again, my fear of flying had been the impediment.
"So, when is your plane getting here?" Valerie asks after a while.
"Tomorrow." I hear myself answer.
Thankfully I never told her which flight I'd be on, but then again, she didn't ask either.
"Good. That gives me enough time to have everything ready for you to arrive."
"Val," I stammer, thinking this to be my only opportunity to back out. "Maybe it's not a good idea for me to come after all. Don't you think things will be awkward with me there?"
"Why would they be awkward?"
Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I was expecting Knox to pop the question to me after we graduated instead of running around my back and marrying you?
But like the self-imposed good girl that I am, I bite my tongue, keeping those hateful words lodged in my throat.
"I mean… is Knox okay with this?"
"Of course, he is. Why wouldn't he be? You're family, after all."
I roll my eyes at that. Usually, family doesn't see you naked, but m'kay.
"Call me tomorrow when your flight gets in. I'm so excited for us to catch up, Nicki. I've missed you terribly."
There's that pang in my chest again.
"Me too."
"Talk to you tomorrow. Have a safe flight."
Before I'm able to say anything in return, she's hung up.
I lean back in my seat, pinching the bridge of my nose to lighten the migraine I feel coming on.
It's just one week.
I can live through one week with them.
I have to.
Valerie is the only family I have left. If I lose her, then I'll have no one, and that thought hurts me more than losing my boyfriend to my younger sister ever could.
Thirty minutes later, the cab stops at my destination. I pay the cab driver as he goes on about how this bar is the best one in town and how I won't be bothered by anyone while I try to relax. Logically speaking, I should be more interested in finding a place to stay the night then get my drink on, but I guess common sense flew out the window the second I boarded a plane.
With my carry-on in tow, I walk into the dim-lit bar and find the nearest stool.
"What's your poison, darling?" the barmaid asks when she spots me.
"Vodka. The strongest you got."
"Trying to gain some liquid courage before your flight?" she says with a teasing smile, eyeing my luggage.
"More like doing anything to avoid seeing family."
"I hear that," a smooth velvety voice chuckles from behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my heart does a double-take with the familiar low timbre. I swallow dryly and fidget in my seat, confused as to why my body suddenly feels warm and tingly. If I believed in those things, I would swear I’ve heard this voice before, maybe even been haunted by it in another life. But since I don’t believe in such nonsense, I push the peculiar sense of déjà vu away and do my very best not to stare as he takes a seat on the barstool beside me.
"A shot of whiskey, please, Charlotte," he orders, apparently knowing the bartender's name by heart.
"Sure thing, James," she replies with a cheeky smile that tells me she must have seen him naked at one point.
Good for you, girl.
I wouldn't mind seeing this exquisite creature in the buff, either. In fact, it would be the highlight of my year.
Since Knox broke my heart to run off with Valerie, I haven't exactly had much luck in the bedroom department. Call it trauma or my own insecurities, but getting in bed with a guy who would probably end up disappointing me, or worse, hurting me, is low on my to-do list.
Although, I would have made an exception for this guy given half a chance.
James.
It suits him.
With dark brown hair, stunning blue-green eyes, and a full beard to cover his chiseled jaw, James is a dead ringer for Tom Hardy. He's one of the most ruggedly beautiful men I have ever laid eyes on. Lord help me, but I've always had a thing for men who held that quiet, brooding aura about them, which is probably the reason why I was attracted to Knox in the first place.
From the moment I met him, Knox was always so serious. I found his somber yet focused personality attractive compared to the slew of college guys who only wanted to party and fuck. Knox was a Type A kind of guy which suited me just fine. Like me, he had his own baggage in the parent department, too. While mine were unwillingly absent from my life, his parents seemed to be inattentive by choice. Or at least that's what I had been led to believe. I'm not sure that's the case anymore if we're all supposed to be spending the holiday season at his father's cabin. Maybe Knox marrying my sister somehow managed to bring his family closer together. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.
When Charlotte, our bartender, brings us both our drinks, I try to shake off all thoughts of my ex away. Surprisingly enough, it's not all that hard to do with James sitting at my side and his cologne evading my senses. In fact, the thing I'm currently finding difficult not doing is leaning into this devastatingly handsome stranger and let his sex appeal wash away all my woes. There is also this sense of familiarity about him, one that has my body responding to it more than I would have liked.
It's official.
I need to get laid.
"To surviving the holidays. May they pass as quickly as possible so we can get back to our lives," James says, in that panty-melting voice of his, while raising his glass and clicking the bottom end with mine.
I drink the clear liquid all in one go, thankful that the warmth now settling in my chest is alcohol-induced and not James-driven.
"So by your toast, does that mean you're not looking forward to the Christmas festivities either?" I ask, my gaze focused on the pad of his finger running around the rim of his empty glass.
"Not one bit."
"Is your family that bad?" I question further, this time gaining the courage to look at his aquamarine eyes.
My heart stops for a slip second when his gaze saddens and his shoulders slump.
"No. I'm the bad one. At least that's what my son thinks. I'm sure he can come up with a million reasons why I'm the worst father in the world."
Abort!!!
Abort!!!
If he has a kid, that probably means he has a wife too. And although my sister wasn't averse to cheating, I'm not as inclined. So instead of putting on my flirty smile, I go with my empathic one.
"I have a sister like that. She makes me feel like nothing I do is good enough, too, and it makes me batty sometimes."
He smiles.
Lord have mercy, but that smile alone has my heart somersaulting in my chest.
"Older or younger?"
"My sister?" I choke out, still trying to gather my bearings after such a smile shining my way.
"Yeah." James chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Younger. She just turned twenty-one a few months ago."
"Oh, I remember that age. I bet she still thinks the world revolves around her," he jokes, waiving to Charlotte to refill our shot glasses.
"I'm pretty sure my sister will think she's the center of the universe even when she's well past fifty." I laugh.
"That spoiled, huh?" James smiles softly, the light wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening and giving him this-w
orldly and wise air about him.
"Very."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It didn't used to when we were growing up. But now..."
"But now her selfishness hurts you, and you don't like it."
I nod, feeling as if all my troubling emotions are written on my forehead for James to read.
"I understand that perfectly. It's the same with my son. He's a little bit older than your sister, but he's also very self-centered. It makes me feel like I dropped the ball on him after his mom and I got divorced."
Hello?
Did he just say divorced?
Maybe there is hope.
"That sounds tough. Do you have any other children?" I ask, hoping to get a better picture of James' life.
"No. I never remarried either. The first wife was enough to turn me off the whole institution of marriage. And after meeting my son's wife, I can tell you that my mind hasn't changed. What about you?"
I show him the back of my hands—ring free.
"I was supposed to get engaged this year, but it just didn't work out."
I don't add that my would-be fiancé was two-timing me with my own sister, though. I keep that tidbit to myself since that shit is too embarrassing to admit even to a total stranger.
"You got off lucky then," James retorts, lifting his now full glass and drinking it in one quick pull.
"Yikes. You really don't believe in marriage, do you?" I find myself smiling after emptying my glass.
"Nope. Not one bit. People always let you down, and it's best only to rely on yourself."
"And here I thought I was jaded." I laugh nervously.
"I'm not jaded. Just realistic."
"Talkative too." I wiggle my brows to lighten the mood, gaining another one of his laughs that has my toes curling.
"Only with the right company," he responds, with that thick smokey tone of his.
"By company, do you mean total strangers you meet at a bar or your shot of whiskey?"
His gaze sparkles with dark amusement, making my stomach dip.
"A little bit of both."
"Good to know."
He tilts his head my way, his tongue running along his lower lip, as his gaze trails over my body, starting from the tip of my knee-high boots to my curly black hair.
"You're not from around here," he states evenly as fact.
"How can you tell?"
"High heels in four-inch snow aren't exactly proper shoe wear around these parts. Plus, your carry-on is kind of a dead giveaway. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say you're a city girl. Maybe from the East coast."
"Good guess. I was born and raised in Manhattan."
"Privileged girl, too," he adds with an all-knowing smirk.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It can be. But not always." His eyes stare into mine. "Sophistication oozes out of you."
"In other words, I'm a boring snob. Is that what you're saying?"
"Do I look bored?" He arches a brow.
I bite the corner of my lip, feeling like this is a loaded question.
"Trust me. You will be if we keep talking. My little sister says I bore everyone to death sooner or later. She's the fun one, and I'm the worrywart."
"Hmm. Your sister is really on your mind, isn't she? You've brought her up innumerous times."
Fuck my life. He's right.
"Sorry. See? I'm even boring you now with my family drama."
"As I said, I'm not bored." The searing look he throws at me has me tongue-tied. "I am curious, though."
"Curious about what?" I pant, hating that my voice came out so sultry.
"You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Oh." I blush. "It's Nicki."
"Is that Nicki with a 'Y' or an 'I'?" He grins broadly.
"You're teasing me, aren't you?"
"Little bit, yeah."
"Just plain old boring, dependable Nicole." I shrug.
"We really need to work on those adjectives. A few more appropriate ones come immediately to mind."
"Is that so? So how would you describe me then?" I counter before taking a sip of my drink.
"Mouthwatering."
I spit out my drink all over his jacket like an idiot.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I blurt out, getting up from my seat.
I grab a napkin and start dabbing over the liquid I just spat on him.
"It's okay." James laughs, amused.
"No, it's not. God, I'm so embarrassed."
"It's fine."
"I'm so sorry. I'll pay for your dry-cleaning."
I freeze in place when he grabs my wrist, electricity shooting up my arm and down my body with just that one touch.
"I said it's fine, Nicole."
His thumb rubs against my inner wrist, my ass plopping down on the stool, unable to pull my arm away from him. He doesn't release my wrist as he keeps slowly caressing that one pressure point. My lungs burn for air, yet I'm almost sure they can't get any since I must have forgotten how to breathe.
"You're too tense," he says softly, running circles on the inside of my wrist until my breathing evens. "And I don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that it's all because of the impending holidays you'll be spending with your sister. Like I told you before, I understand perfectly. I had to leave my own home tonight so that I could get a few hours of peace and away from the son that hates my guts."
"Why does he hate you? You never said."
"It's complicated."
"Try me."
"Hmm. I think I just might."
The little smirk that crests his lips is enough to leave me in a puddle of lust-filled want. Without my approval, my thighs instantly rub together to give my throbbing clit some form of relief, only for James to catch me in the act. The heat of his stare skating up my body and stopping on my heavy breasts and pebbled nipples has my mouth drying up. He licks his lips, looking all too pleased with how my body is reacting to him.
"I mean…" I stutter, trying to pull his attention off my heaving chest. "I was talking about your son."
"I'm not in the mood to talk about him anymore,"
"What are you in the mood for?" I ask, breathless.
He places his other hand on my thigh, making my eyes bulge out of their sockets.
"If you don't know the answer to that, then I'm not doing this right."
I bite my lower lip as his hand proceeds to go up my skirt. Instinctively, my thighs open up to him as if offering up my drenched pussy to him on a silver platter.
"Well, what do you know? Maybe I am," he goads with that seductive laugh that has me quivering with need. "You have the most amazingly soft skin," he adds under his breath, his gaze fixed on his hand as it skates up my leg. "It has my mind wondering if you're smooth like this all over."
"Are you just curious, or is that a proposition?" I gain the courage to ask.
"I think we both know it's the latter."
My parched throat prevents me from saying anything else, especially since his fingers are so close to my center. All I'd have to do is give him a minor breach, widen my legs a little bit further, and he'd see for himself the effect he's having for me.
"I'm not the type of woman who picks up strangers at bars," I tell him truthfully.
"Then I guess it's a good thing we're no longer strangers." He smiles. "You know my name, and I know yours. I know your sister is a spoiled princess that pulls on your heartstrings to do whatever she wants, and you know that I'm old enough to have a son that's possibly your age. See? Not strangers."
"You're very persuasive."
"Only when I see something I want."
"And just exactly what do you want, James?" With bated breath I ask, loving the sound of his name passing through my lips.
"To fuck you all night long."
Jesus fucking Christ!
"You're very blunt."
"And you are by far the sexiest woman I have seen in years. Maybe even ever."
"Charmer, too."
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"No, Nicole, I'm not. I'm just a man that tells it as he sees it. And right now, I can't take my eyes off of you."
"I like looking at you, too," I admit, mesmerized by the glimmer of desire in his eyes.
"Good." He smacks his lips. "Then tell me one more thing, Nicole. Are we going to waste the night talking about our miserable lives, or are you coming home with me tonight instead?"
A million and one reasons why I shouldn't leave with this man come to mind, yet for the life of me, I can't seem to pick one. Instead, I do the very opposite of the levelheaded woman everyone perceives me to be. I take his hand off my thigh and entwine it with mine.
"Lead the way. I'm all yours."
James' eyes turn half-mast before leaning in closer to me, my skin breaking out in delicious goosebumps with the feel of his hot breath against my ear.
"You have no idea how much I like the sound of that. But trust me, Nicole. Before the night is done, you will."
Chapter 2
Past
I twist and turn over in my bed for the hundredth time. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 11:30 p.m. I groan.
By all accounts, I should be exhausted and dead asleep right now, especially after the emotionally and physically draining day I had.
Today I had to go back home to pack up the huge home that I grew up in, the house that brought me so much joy, peace and security but instead, all I could feel was the disturbing emptiness that was too much to bear.
It was no longer a home but a house.
A house that no longer had the two most important people to me. My parents.
I’m wide awake like a freaking owl and there’s this pain in my chest that I can quite describe.
Maybe that feeling is there because I’m so damn lonely and ansty.
I miss my parents and my little sister but most of all, I feel restless and my God, I’m… horny.
After moving all the boxes and packing away most of my parents’ old stuff and then driving to a storage facility in town--I’m not quite ready to let go of the only pieces of my parents I have left—I decided to wait for my boyfriend by tucking in to read a steamy romance novel and now, there’s a strange discomfort between my legs.