And he gave it to her. Without a spoken word, he intertwined their hands beside her head and rested his face against her neck, inhaling with her exhales and emptying as she filled. For a minute, everything was perfect.
When he finally did pull away, it was with a kiss to her cheek and a groan as he separated flesh from flesh. He stood, spotted her trash and moved to clean himself up. After reaching for the sheet to cover herself, she turned onto her side, curled her body around a pillow and watched him.
It was supposed to be just one night. And yet…
Before she could sort out the tangled mess of wanting in her head, he smiled and bent to grab for his pants. He pulled them on before sitting down on the edge of her bed. But there was a distance between them now. As if the weight of denim and cotton could be measured in miles.
When he touched her, put his hand on the covered curl of her calf, it felt as tentative as their first brushes, and she shivered, knowing what was next. It was what she’d planned for. Hoped for even.
So she projected the same false confidence that had been her hallmark all night. “Early morning tomorrow?”
“No.” He frowned, and something in her heart fell. He rubbed her leg with one hand and his eyes with the other. “But I didn’t bring my contacts case.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The memory of a perfect fuck soured. Surely someone who could touch a girl like that would have a little more creativity when it came to escaping from her.
If he saw her disappointment, he didn’t acknowledge it. Just lifted up one corner of his mouth and slid his palm up higher to her knee. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, parted them and sucked gently.
“Any time.”
He rose and finished redressing, then turned away. He hesitated for just a second in her doorway, looking over his shoulder, meeting her eyes with a stare that was too intense to hold. She blinked once. And when she looked again, he was gone.
Chapter Two
Sunday
As he lay in bed the next morning, there were precisely two things Josh Markley couldn’t figure out: one, what the hell kind of game Ellen Price thought she was playing at. And two, why the hell he’d let her play it. With him.
He chuckled to himself and turned over onto his back. Actually, the second part wasn’t all that hard to nail down. He could still smell her on his skin, could still feel the memory of her flesh against his fingertips and pulsing around him. After three years of watching her out of the corner of his eye—idly admiring but never catching her attention, never approaching—he’d have been a fool to pass up his chance.
So when she’d introduced herself, acting as if she’d never seen him before in her life, damn right he’d played along. Even when she’d made as if he was a student somewhere else, just home for the break. When she’d lied and said she was a waitress. And especially when she’d invited him to her bed.
She’d been about to invite him to stay the night there, too. He was sure.
As he sat up and fumbled blindly for his glasses, he cursed himself again. What kind of idiot left a mostly naked woman because he didn’t want to sleep in his contacts?
“An idiot who’s never worn contacts before, that’s what kind.”
He slid the thick frames onto his face and blinked as the world came into focus. The usual mess of his basement “apartment” stared back at him, and he groaned and rubbed his eyes.
He could have woken up in her apartment. Right this moment, he could be between her thighs again, kissing his way up her neck as he pushed inside.
With that thought, he stumbled out of bed and to the adjoining bathroom to start up the shower. Turning, he met his own reflection, and for a minute, as he waited for the water to heat up, he studied himself. He didn’t look any different. He pulled off his glasses and squinted. Did they really make that big of a difference?
I guess they did for Clark Kent.
Shrugging, he stripped and pushed the shower curtain aside, then stepped in under the spray. The heat of the water felt good on his muscles, but even a hard scrubbing couldn’t wash away the parts of the night that had felt sordid. Casual and anonymous.
He still couldn’t figure it out.
The first time he’d seen Ellen, she’d been sitting on the edge of the fountain outside the lecture hall. It had been late spring, their freshman year. And she’d been so beautiful. So sexy and yet so removed from what was going on around her.
He’d hardly spoken a dozen words to her in the years since, but his first impressions had held true. She was serious and quiet, studious and demurring. Last night, though…last night she’d been a succubus in a short skirt, and with her brazenness, she’d brought out a side of him he barely recognized in himself. Just thinking about lifting her up onto her knees and taking her from behind like that…
The memory made him ache, made his cock fill and swell. With a curse, he reached out and twisted the knob on the shower to all cold, then hissed as the freezing water poured over him. It cleared his mind and calmed him down. Teeth chattering, he counted to thirty before turning the water off completely. Still shivering, he got out and dried himself off.
He found his contacts case exactly where he’d left it the night before, and with the same carefulness he’d used the first time, he got the clear circles into his eyes. He stared at himself again. His vision was sharper than it had ever been in glasses, but he still felt like he wasn’t really seeing himself—or the situation—clearly.
He still didn’t know what Ellen was doing.
All he knew was that he wanted to do it again. And again. And again.
“So, any plans tonight?”
Josh swallowed down the big bite of meatloaf he’d been working on before answering. “Yeah. Nothing big. Just out with some friends.”
Well, one friend. He hoped.
His mother hummed and gave his dad a sideways glance. “Really? I thought most of them had gone home for the break.”
She’d made the same intimation the night before.
“Most,” he agreed, looking down as he scooped up a forkful of potatoes.
That was the thing about talking to his mom: it was always best to answer questions as simply and as vaguely as possible, especially when it came to his social life. His parents were the ones who had said they wanted him to have the full college experience, even if they insisted he live at home. But that didn’t mean they wanted all the details.
And he sure as hell didn’t want to give any to them.
His father cleared his throat. “Anything interesting in the mail today?”
Josh had to stifle his groan. It was a clumsy subject change, and one that just led from one awkward topic to another.
His mom gave a tight smile and glanced at Josh out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Just junk,” Josh agreed.
That was true enough—about today’s mail anyway. The letters his dad really cared about had been intercepted weeks ago, and were all hidden away safely into the top drawer of his dresser. He’d have to deal with those soon. Before April fifteenth, for sure. But they could wait a little longer. Definitely until after this weekend’s trip.
He speared another bite and asked, less than subtly, “So how’s stuff at the office?”
His dad always loved it when he showed an interest in his practice. Sure enough, he took the bait, starting in on some explanation about a patient as Josh let his mind drift. To those damn letters and what he was going to do about them. To school. Classes.
Ellen.
Dinner couldn’t be over fast enough.
Finally, his father stood up and excused himself to his study. Josh stayed to help clean up, the whole time thinking about Ellen. How she’d felt and tasted. And how he’d manage to feel her again, as soon and as often as possible.
Like an idiot, he hadn’t gotten her phone number. A half dozen possible plans for how to meet up with her again floated through his m
ind, but most of them were ridiculous. Showing up at her apartment, demanding to know what she thought she was doing would be too awkward, and no way in hell would it end up with him in her bed again. Pulling a Say Anything and playing sappy music on a boom box outside her window would be too weird.
That left him with only one real option: head back to the bar and hope she was thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her.
Humming with anticipation, he finished wiping down the counters, kissed his mom on the cheek, then retreated down the stairs to his room. He dressed more carefully than he had the night before, when going to the bar had been just a means of escape—a way to get away from his parents and all their expectations for a night. Now it was a whole lot more.
Finally, at eight o’clock, he pulled on a jacket, called a quick goodbye to his folks and took off. The entire drive over, he played out in his head how he hoped this all would go. In some scenarios, she confessed, told him she’d recognized him right off the bat but had been too afraid to be herself. In others she was just as brazen as last night. Just as sensual. In all of them, he ended up on top of her, naked and buried deep.
It wasn’t until he’d parked and opened the door that the first seed of doubt crept up. What if she wasn’t there? What if she hadn’t thought of him at all?
What if she still acted like she’d never seen him before?
With his stomach in knots, he strode into the bar and scanned the tables for a familiar fall of long, dark hair—for the face he’d know no matter which version of her decided to show up. His gaze swept over the space again, his heart falling all the while, until suddenly he froze.
God, she looked good.
There was no doubting that the Ellen of last night was back, and in force. Her hair was swept up, leaving her long neck and the bare line of her shoulders exposed. Her top pushed her breasts together, making them look even softer and fuller than they had the night before, reminding him he hadn’t really gotten to see that part of her. He was going to, though. Tonight, he was going to.
Channeling the man that had made her scream, he made his way toward her, never shifting his gaze the entire time. Even when it became clear she was laughing, talking to the bartender, Ryan. She touched her hair as she smiled up at him.
Josh slowed. Maybe she was here to pick up someone new. He flexed his hand into a fist and forced himself to keep moving.
Three years of watching her hadn’t done him any good, and damn if he could go backward now.
She still hadn’t looked over by the time he made it to her side, so he intentionally scraped the stool across the tile as he pulled it back. At the sound, she darted her gaze up to meet his, and with his heart in his throat, he watched a dozen reactions pass over her face. Her smile faltered and her eyes grew wide.
His voice gruff, he asked, “May I?”
She looked down and her cheeks flushed. But her lips turned up into a new smile, one that was softer but more real. When she finally nodded, he felt his chest expand.
He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the chair, then grabbed his wallet and pulled out a twenty. Slapping it down on the counter, he looked up at Ryan, only to see him scowl. Josh shot him a sympathetic look but didn’t give an inch. Surely, Ryan had seen the two of them leave together the night before. He had to recognize that this was Josh’s to win or lose.
With a glower, Ryan backed away and reached for a pint glass. “Sam Adams?”
Josh was about to respond with his usual, “You know it,” but stopped himself. If Ellen was here to play, then he would play along. “Yeah, thanks,” he answered. Turning to Ellen, he asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Ellen smirked and shook her head, one eyebrow raised. “Isn’t that my line?”
All right. So at least she wasn’t going to pretend that the night before hadn’t happened.
“Not tonight.” With that, he sat down, put his foot up on the rail and leaned his elbow on the bar so his body was twisted toward her. Without glancing away, he added, “And a vodka and cranberry for the lady.”
Ryan took his money with a huff. While he worked on their drinks, Josh kept his gaze fixed on Ellen’s. If he could just look deep enough, maybe he could see into her. Could figure this whole charade of hers out. Only, the longer he stared at her, the less he cared. There was that same heat coming off of her, the same soft scent of something flowery and light. The same need.
He just wished he knew what it was for.
She finally looked away, pointedly directing her gaze forward, but her sly smile didn’t falter. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I could say the same.”
“How did you know?”
“That you’d be here? I didn’t.” While she pretended not to react, the corner of her mouth wavered. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger on her cheek. “But I hoped.”
Ryan set the two drinks down in front of them. When he started counting bills, Josh waved him off, telling him silently to keep the change; it was the least he could do, considering. Forcing himself to let his hand fall from her face, he reached for his beer and held it up. “Cheers?”
She chuckled and picked her drink up, brought it forward to clink against his. As she did, she met his gaze. “Cheers.”
They each took a long pull. Josh set his down and turned even further toward her. It was at this point in the night yesterday when she’d rubbed her foot against his calf, planted her hand down on his thigh. She’d been the one buying, the one driving the conversation. Or the lack thereof.
He was driving tonight, and there were plenty of things he wanted to talk about.
“So. Ellen.”
She sucked in a little breath at his use of her name, reminding him she’d never called him by his. Not last night. Not even when she’d come.
Did she know it, even?
He bit the inside of his cheek and tempered his expression. “We didn’t get to talk much yesterday.”
“No,” she answered slowly. “We didn’t.”
This time, he was the one to slide his fingertips along the naked line of her thigh. The one to shift closer. “Well, then.” Staring at her in rapt fascination, he implored, “Tell me everything about you.”
Tell me why you’re here. And what you want.
It wasn’t supposed to be a trap, but the second he asked, all the supple lines of her body went tense, her mouth closing around a laugh that sounded forced. Bringing her drink back to her lips, she sucked hard at the little straw. “There isn’t much to tell.”
He hid his disbelief the best he could. Play along. “Oh, I don’t believe that. You said you were a…a waitress, right?”
“Yeah. But it’s just a job.”
“All right.” Hoping to calm her, he rubbed her knee with his thumb. “Then what do you do outside of that?”
She looked at him with the strangest expression, fear and disbelief and resolve. “Are you asking me if I have hobbies?”
“Sure.” Was that so strange?
A giggle bubbled up in her throat, and she downed the rest of her drink. “Okay, Josh. I’m game.”
And then she started talking, going on about books and television shows. About making greeting cards and knitting.
But all Josh could hear was his name.
Right up until her eyebrow arched and the tone of her voice changed. “Oh, also,” she said, ticking the items on her list off on her fingers, “skydiving, mountain climbing and motorcycle riding.”
Um. Those weren’t exactly hobbies that went along with knitting. “Seriously?”
“Sure, why not?”
He gazed at her skeptically. “No reason. Just curious. They all seem awfully adventurous.”
“What can I say? I’m an adventurous kind of girl.” Her voice was breathy as she spoke, though, and her gaze kept darting around.
Adventurous, his ass. She was as much of a skydiver as she was a waitress. Suddenly, he wished he’d taken
his Harley over instead of his car.
“Well, then, adventure girl.” He leaned in close and spoke gruffly in her ear. “Someday you’ll have to let me take you for a ride.”
Her heat lit him up like a force. Like she’d let him take her right then and there. It felt powerful. Unusual. Good.
He took a tiny nip at the shell of her ear before pulling away, settling more comfortably into his own chair and lifting his drink to his mouth. He could ask her to get out of here right now, could have her on her back in the center of her bed…
“And what about you?”
Her words interrupted his reverie like ice on the back of his neck. He managed not to choke on his beer as he swallowed and stammered, “What about me?”
“What’s your deal?” Her voice was still strained with arousal, but her eyes were more focused, incisive in their intensity.
He should have whisked her away while he still could. He suddenly understood all her trepidation when he’d asked her about herself. While he’d yet to say anything untrue, he’d still let her operate under a misapprehension, and a big one at that.
“Well…” Two options hovered in front of his eyes—two futures. One where he told her he was in half her classes with her and had recognized her from the start. Maybe she’d understand. She might laugh about it, glad to hear they had all the time in the world to get to know each other.
Maybe she’d throw her drink in his face.
He chose the second option. The one where he pushed to see how far this would go.
When it came to censoring his own thoughts about his life, he had plenty of experience, after all.
“Well. I grew up here. Went to high school down the street.” That was true enough. “And now I’m in college. Senior year.” He hid his grimace, squashed the sour tone that wanted to rise up whenever he mentioned it. “Pre-med.”
Her eyes lit up, and for a fraction of a second, he thought she might recognize him, or that she might come clean. Might pipe up with an enthusiastic “Me, too!” Whatever she’d been about to say caught in her throat, though, and she sat back in her chair, her mask falling over her features again. “Oh really? Where?”
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