by Amity Cross
“Calm your farm, Callie,” Macy said. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Is he there? Point him out.”
Peering through the window, I spotted a broad pair of shoulders by the bar, and my knees began to weaken. He was waiting. Just like he’d said he would.
“The guy leaning on the bar.” I jabbed my finger at the window. “That’s Mark.”
“That’s him?” she asked.
“Yep.” I studied his profile and began to tremble. I was here to meet him. The hottest guy in the whole place. He was waiting for me.
“Holy fuck, Callie,” Macy exclaimed, fanning herself. “You said he was hot but not that hot.”
“Should I have said something like sizzling?”
“I was going to say smoking, but is it too soon?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you making fire-related jokes about me already?”
“Um…”
“I’m kidding,” I declared with a smirk.
“He looks familiar, though.” She squinted, studying him.
“Familiar, how?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ve seen him around or something. It’ll come to me.”
“What do I say to him?”
“Whatever you like. Just be yourself. That’s the whole point.”
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“Go, enjoy.” She waved at me. “I’ve got my own adventure tonight. Let me know how yours goes, okay?”
“Macy, don’t leave me,” I said with a moan.
“I’m not into threesomes,” she yelled over her shoulder. “Not even for a guy who looks like that. No offense.”
Instantly turning red, I spun on my heel and pushed into the bar. I was here now, so I approached him, focusing on not falling on my ass.
He’d seen me coming and had turned his head slightly, and all I could see were his eyes shining mysteriously in the half-light. Fuck, he was so handsome it put me on edge.
Leaning against the bar, I smiled. “Hey.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he straightened up. “Hey.”
That was when I got a front on view of the cut on his cheek and the gash that split his eyebrow. His eye socket was a little bruised, making the rich chocolate of his irises stand out even more.
“Oh, my God,” I said, my hand flying to my mouth. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Mark,” I began, but he reached out and grasped my hand. My mouth closed, his touch sending sparks up and down my arm like his fingertips were live wires.
“Gin and tonic?” he asked, his lips curving wickedly.
“Gin and tonic.”
Turning, he raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention and placed an order. Paying, he picked up the two glasses and smiled at me.
“C’mon,” he said. “I’ve saved us a table at the back.”
Nodding, I allowed him to lead me through the darkened bar. We wove through tables, passed the jukebox, and into the back where several booths were positioned along the wall. Mark took us to the one right at the rear.
The table was round, so the bench traveled in a U-shape around it. He set the drinks down and slid along the bench, gesturing for me to follow. I sat beside him, the curve of the seat allowing me to be close yet still study his expression. A tea light candle in a tiny glass jar and the rather dim mood lighting were the only sources of illumination, and I began to feel hot under the collar. It was intimate in the romantic sense, and I wondered if this was why he’d brought me here.
“This is frustrating,” I said, reaching for my drink.
“What is?”
“Every time I see you, I’m at a loss for words.” I sipped, the alcohol tingling the back of my throat as I swallowed.
“Believe me, I know the feeling.”
Glancing at him, I studied the cuts and bruises on his face and couldn’t shake the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“What happened?” I asked, angling my body toward his. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t answer. He just lifted his beer to his lips and drank, his eyes narrowing.
“Listen, I don’t know you from a bar of soap, so anything you say to me, I can’t really judge. I’m a clean slate.”
“I’m not an easy guy to get to know,” he said wryly.
“I’m beginning to see that.” I downed a healthy dose of gin and tonic to steady my nerves.
Setting my drink down on the table, I took a deep breath. I was completely clueless when it came to reading those infamous ‘signs’ that told me if a guy was interested romantically or not. Most times, it just went right over my head, and before I knew it, all my chances for a bit of action had passed, and I never got to lick anything.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’d give some signs. It was worth a shot, hey?
Lifting my hand, I brushed my fingertips over the cut on his eyebrow, then I lightly traced around his eye and cheekbone. He didn’t move, but at least he didn’t push me away.
“Where’d you get this?” I murmured, the closeness of the private booth making my head swim.
“Callie…” His jaw was tight, and I squeezed my thighs together.
“Mark…”
“I fight for money,” he said. “It’s illegal, it’s bad news, and it’s all I’ve got.”
I tensed. “What kind of fighting? What does that mean?”
“Cage fighting,” he replied.
“Cage…” An image of the fights I’d seen on TV came to mind. Blood, knockouts, the whole deal. “Like MMA?
“Yeah…like MMA.” He lifted his arm and rested it along the back of the seat behind me.
He was being evasive again, and I got the distinct feeling that what he was doing was far worse than ‘just fighting.’ I wasn’t sure what to think about it. Illegal and bad news was one hell of a description.
“That’s where I had to go on Friday,” he added.
I didn’t know if I should be relieved or not. He’d brushed me off to go fight some dude in a cage rather than hang out with me.
“Listen, Callie…”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Every conversation that started with ‘Listen, Callie’ never ended well.
“What?” Mark frowned, and his arm tensed.
“You’re about to give me the speech, aren’t you?”
“What speech?”
“The one where you let me down gently and say ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” I air quoted the last part. “You know, the one where you make up stupid bullshit to get out of seeing me again because you’re just not that into me.” I snorted. “I get it. I’ve heard it a lot.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, running his free hand over his face.
“Yeah, fuck. The fat girl with her cakes has some bite.”
“You’re not fat,” he shot back. “But I won’t argue with the bite.”
“Don’t shit me, Mark.” I slumped back and fiddled with the straw in my drink. “This week has been the ultimate definition of fucked up. I just need a break.”
“I’m not shitting you,” he said, leaning closer. “I don’t deserve someone like you, Callie. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I don’t want you to be another.”
My heart began to wither inside my chest, and I stared at him. “I’m a mistake?”
“No, I’m the mistake,” he said, thumping his fist against his chest. “I’m not your hero, Callie. I can’t be.”
“Why not?” I asked stubbornly. “You risked your life for me. That’s heroic behavior whether you want to admit it or not. You’ve made mistakes? So what? The whole point of making them is what you do afterward.” He was staring at me, looking a little shell-shocked. “So what are you going to do? Huh?”
“I’m not a good guy, Callie.” He glanced away. “I’ve hurt people I should’ve protected, I…” he trailed off, and his jaw tensed. “Not like your firefighter buddy.”
I scowled. “What are you talking about?”
<
br /> His entire disposition began to darken. “I saw you.”
“Saw me when?”
“Today. At your shop. You were doing that awkward thing you do.”
“Awkward thing I do?” I exclaimed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You did it on Friday, and you did it just before.” He sighed and bit his bottom lip. “I’m beginning to believe you do it when you like someone. Your cheeks turn red, and you stumble over your words…”
“I’m not awkward,” I lied. “And there’s nothing going on with Justin.”
“So you’re on first name basis.” He scowled, and my mouth fell open in shock. He actually gave me a dirty look for talking to the firefighter.
“So?” I pouted.
Mark grunted and reached for his beer. “He’s well adjusted. He’d be a good choice.”
“Ugh,” I declared. “You’re so frustrating.”
“I know.”
Who the hell knew if his bravado was all for show or if it was who he really was. The mystery just deepened the more I got to know the guy. Any answer he gave just led to more questions. It was becoming more infuriating than frustrating. I would slap him, but it looked like someone else had already beaten me to it.
“So you fight illegally,” I began, rattling off the things I did know. “You put yourself down constantly, you push people away with your smartassery, you look like a fucking underwear model, and you save random women from burning buildings. Are you a run-of-the-mill douche? Or are you just the by-product of a shitty hand of cards?”
His expression twisted, and he looked as if he was in a great deal of pain. Was he that torn up? Over what? The night of the fire, I’d looked into his eyes and seen a sadness that almost frightened me. A deep pain I knew nothing about.
“You have to let go of it sometime,” I murmured, suddenly aware of how close we’d become. “Eventually, it’ll eat you all up, and what then?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Justice?”
“Justice? For what?”
“I walked over people to get to the top, but I crashed and burned before I even got there. I was ruthless and didn’t care who I hurt.”
“Maybe it’s not about getting what you think you deserve,” I countered. “Maybe it’s about making up for it.”
“How?” His hand came to rest on my knee, and I squirmed.
“By being a better person. By being nice. By being selfless. By being conscious of…”
“I’m alone for a reason, Callie,” he said, his brow creasing. “No friends, no family, no attachments. Everyone’s happy that way.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to justify taking the easy way out,” I said with a scowl. “Easier is rarely better, you know.”
His gaze dropped to my lips before flickering back to my eyes. “It hurts less.”
“You’re wrong.”
I sensed him pulling back before he even twitched, but I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. In a moment of lust-fueled insanity, I tilted my head to the side, leaned forward, and pressed my lips against his.
He was warm and soft, which was a stark comparison to his behavior, and when I began to pull back, he caught me before I could let him go.
The arm he’d laid across the back of the bench circled my back, and the hand he’d placed on my knee began to travel upward, sending warmth between my legs. I nestled into him, my palms resting against his hard chest, and this time, he kissed me.
His lips parted, and the tip of his tongue teased my skin before demanding entrance. I was pretty much fucked by that point, and the last of my willpower faded as I opened to him. I was his. Completely.
My head tilted to the side as he took control. His mouth melded with mine and his tongue danced, tasting the excitement he’d awoken in me. He knew what he was doing, and it was a little frightening how talented he was. I didn’t want to be a number, but right now, my head swam with nothing but dirty thoughts.
I kissed him back, and any nervousness I had before I’d walked in here was completely gone. Damn, he could kiss me all night, and I’d still beg for more.
Finally, he broke away but didn’t venture far. His arms caged me against his chest, his lips brushed over my cheek, and when he’d caught his breath, he rested his forehead against mine.
My palm rasped against the stubble on his jaw, my fingers delighting at the sensation, and finally, I buried my hands into his overgrown hair. It was the closest I’d felt to any man, and all we’d shared was a kiss. A kiss that had knocked my socks off.
“Callie…” His lips moved over mine, his breath hot.
“The fact you don’t want to hurt me tells me you want to change. Whatever happened before…”
“Don’t.” His grasp tightened.
“Doesn’t matter,” I finished.
“Of course, it does,” he replied, resting his forehead against mine. “That’s why I feel like a bastard right now.”
“Now it’s my turn to say don’t.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping. “I have no fucking idea what it is about you, but… I want you, Callie.”
There was no denying that signal. I cupped his face gently, studying his chocolate eyes as best I could in the dim lighting of the bar.
“So you do feel it, too,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I feel it, too.”
11
Callie
Mark caressed my face, smoothing my hair behind my ear. If he asked, I would get on my knees below the table and suck him dry. The thought was a little alarming, and I squirmed, beginning to ache unbearably between my legs.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. I flushed scarlet, and his lips quirked. “Don’t worry. I can guess.”
“I…”
“You’re different, Callie,” he murmured. “All I want to do is take you home and fuck all night, but…”
“But?” I squeezed my thighs together, a movement that didn’t escape his notice.
“You’re different.”
“I’m not reassured,” I quipped. “I feel like rubbing one out myself, you jerk.” I shoved my hand between my legs, and Mark smirked.
“Your place or mine?” He frowned, then made the decision for me. “Your place. Definitely your place.”
He slid out of the booth and held out his hand. Wrapping my fingers around his, he helped me up, and I fell against his chest. Smiling, he kissed me once more, his tongue diving and retreating before I could catch my breath. Then he turned and led me through the bar.
Grasping my phone, I quickly typed a message to Macy. You had better not be home, and if you are, you had better put in some earplugs.
Outside, Mark walked over to a shiny black and chrome motorcycle and retrieved the helmet from where he’d put it over the handlebars. Watching me stare apprehensively at the bike, he grinned.
“By now, you’ve figured out I’m the bad boy your mother warned you about,” he said, holding out the helmet. “What are you going to do about it?”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I don’t give two fucks about me,” he replied. “You on the other hand…”
“That’s a sucky attitude.” And one I was fast coming to realize was his default reaction when it came to his own well-being. Macy was right in that regard. He had a bag full of his own problems.
He smiled, his lips pulling up on one side more than the other. “I know.”
I wanted to ask so many questions, but my brain was too fuzzy from the lust he’d ignited with that kiss. Oh, God, that kiss. Snatching the helmet, I handed him my purse, and he stowed it in a saddlebag. Then I waited for him to straddle the motorcycle before making a move.
“Where to?” he asked before he kicked the machine to life.
Giving him the address, I put on the helmet, knowing I was taking a huge risk. Not just by riding on the back of his bike while he broke the law but by taking him home. We were going to have sex, and once I let him have me, I knew I would be a g
oner. I already was pretty much, so I figured I may as well get an orgasm out of it.
I gasped as he floored it, the motorcycle bumping over the gutter and out onto the road. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I felt his muscles tighten as I held on for dear life. He was a daredevil the way he cut through traffic and split lanes. Luckily, it was a short ride to Northcote and my bedroom.
He parked the motorcycle out front, and I slid off the back, my knees wobbling unsteadily.
“You’re a madman,” I said as I ripped off the helmet.
“I warned you,” he retorted, sliding his arm around my waist and handing me my purse.
Fishing for my keys, I trembled.
“How do you like it?” he asked as we walked up the path to the front door.
“I like it resulting in an orgasm,” I replied. “Preferably mine.”
“I can help you with that,” he said as I turned the key in the lock.
Inside, it was dark, which meant Macy was either in bed with earplugs in or she was still out. If she’d gotten my message, she would find something or someone to keep her entertained for a couple of hours. She was awesome like that. The housemate from heaven.
Opening my bedroom door, I led Mark inside and flicked on the lamp by the bed. The door closed, and before I could turn, he grasped me around the waist and tugged me back against his body. Immediately, his fingers pulled my hair behind my shoulder, and he began kissing my neck. I trembled, turning to complete mush as his hands caressed my waist and brushed over my breasts.
Squirming, I turned, desperate to feel his tongue glide against mine. Capturing his mouth, he gave me what I wanted in spades. We kissed long and hard, my arms circling his neck and his palms grasping my ass. When we fell into a heap on my bed, I arched into him as he undid the buttons of my blouse, his mouth leaving a path of fire over my cleavage.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, my top was flung onto the floor. His fingers undid the clasp of my bra, he tugged the straps over my arms, and I was exposed. His palms rubbed at my breasts, his fingers pinching and twisting my nipples. The sensation reached my clit, and I bucked against him with a loud moan, pushing into his grasp.
His lips curved into a wicked grin, and he let me go just long enough to pull his T-shirt off. Hot damn, I was right. He was ripped. It was my turn to rub my hands all over him, but I wasn’t satisfied with only playing with the top half. Going for his fly, I undid the button and unzipped.