“Are you going to leave?”
I roll my eyes. “No. Now go.”
She sighs, and for a moment I wonder if there’s another reason she wanted me to tag along, but she leaves before I get the chance to explore further. I’m left with me, my drink, and staring at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar for company.
“Your friend ditched you?” the bartender asks, picking up my drink and wiping away the condensation underneath it.
“It’s okay. It’s kind of her MO.”
“Sounds like a great friend.”
“She’s not so bad. We’ve both been kind of flakey lately.”
He stops cleaning and leans on his elbows. “That explains why I’ve never seen you around. Your friend comes in a few times a week.”
That’s more than I was aware of. I look over my shoulder and see her laughing at a guy demonstrating a trick shot behind his back. The number of males currently vying for her attention is ridiculous.
“She comes alone?”
He nods in Lance’s direction. “They always come in together, but they don’t always leave together.”
I don’t need him to elaborate. “You’re just full of all kinds of nifty information, aren’t you?”
“My life consists of this bar five nights a week. Watching people drink is the only hobby I have time for.” He smiles, a little bit of shyness creeping in.
He’s charming. He knows how to put just the right amount of effort into a smile to be likable. And it’s so much different from Justin’s, where he only smiles when he feels like it, and it’s always genuine. He has no charm, at least in the sense that being himself leaves more to the imagination than the boy standing on the other side of this bar.
“You forgot to mention flirting with customers.”
Almost as if my thoughts had conjured him, Justin takes the seat to the left of me, shooting daggers at the bartender before landing on me. The dark circles under his eyes throw me off. In the hour we’ve been apart, they appear to have gotten darker than when we were at his apartment. I knew he was tired, but I didn’t know he was that tired. I can’t recall his eyes being so deep.
“You know him?” The bartender leans back and points at Justin.
Justin doesn’t give me a second to speak, ordering a whiskey on the rocks. It’s more of a demand, but the bartender drops his towel, reaching for a bottle under the counter.
“Single malt?”
“Bourbon,” Justin says, his tone sedated, holding no weight.
“I didn’t know you drank hard liquor,” I say, watching the auburn liquid being poured.
The glass is placed in front of Justin and the bartender walks away, picking up his rag to continue his ritual. “Yeah, well,” he says, taking a gulp of the liquid downing half the volume in one swallow. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
A slew of words fly through my mind that I’d like to say to him, but I tamp them down, figuring he’s got to be like this for a reason. I quit trying to figure out Justin weeks ago. Sometimes he’s happy-go-lucky, other times serious, but rarely has he been this down.
I signal the bartender, smiling at his reluctance as he walks toward me, and order myself the same drink. Well, though. ‘Cause let’s face it: I’m cheap.
Justin watches me sniff the dark liquid and take a sip. He cracks a smile when I choke.
“Why can’t you pick something fun to drink? Like a mimosa.”
He downs the rest of his glass and signals for a refill. “I need a reminder of why I hate alcohol.”
“Because you don’t want to be like your dad?”
His head snaps in my direction, eyes hard. It’s the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger, and it’s more potent than I thought. He doesn’t say anything as he finishes off his second drink. “I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you later.”
I reach for his shoulder, catching his t-shirt in my hand. “You just got here.”
“And now I’m leaving.”
“Not until you talk to me.” His entire body tenses, readying for a fight.
“Talking isn’t going to fix anything, Lilly. If that was the case, I would fucking talk you out of my system.”
I release the grip on his shirt. “You’re right.”
All the fight I had in me a second ago diminishes as quickly as it came. I pick up the remainder of my scotch and throw it back. A groan rumbles from Justin, annoyance being its epicenter. He wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me off the barstool and placing my feet on the ground.
“What the hell.”
He grabs my hand, pulling me toward the exit. I stumble over my feet, trying to keep up. Kaley shoots daggers at him as we pass the pool tables, and I shake my head at her to stay.
“Justin,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm even though I’m shaking. Not from anger but adrenaline.
“I’m not going to leave knowing you’re just going to get shit-faced drunk and there’s no one to look after you.”
“I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“Haven’t heard that before. If I wanted another overprotective brother, I’d just clone Kip.”
He stops mid stride, making me run face first into his chest. His laugh is almost manic. “I guarantee you I’m the furthest thing from your brother.”
Without another word, he turns back around and heads back to his apartment. We’re already at the halfway mark. I know Justin won’t actually force me anywhere. If I choose, I can turn back around, go back to the bar or to my car, and call it a night. On second thought, the whiskey seems to have settled in my stomach, leaving a wake in my head. Driving probably isn’t in my best interest. Deciding the latter, I trudge on behind him.
By the time we reach his apartment, neither of us has spoken a word in the entire block over. His posture is wrung tight, like a rubber band stretched to its capacity. It's like we ran the entire way here instead of walking, considering our breaths are harsh, anger still very much alive. I don’t even flinch when he slams the door behind me.
I walk straight to his fridge and pull out a beer. I open it by the time he reaches me, and he pulls it from my lips. “Stop.”
“You stop,” I say, pulling the beer back.
I’m poking the bear, I know this, but I really, really want to. Call it the weeks of pent up frustration, or the countless times I’ve replayed our kiss in my head, or it very well could be the teasing words he said the night he dropped me off from bowling. Hell, it might be his freaking pen chewing. Call it retribution. But at this point, I’m the one about to snap.
He rips the bottle from my hand and throws it in the sink, making glass and froth splatter up against the backsplash. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Stop treating me like one.”
“Since when does making sure you get home safe make me the bad guy?”
“Since you refuse to tell me what the hell is going on with you.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a step away from me. He lets his arm drop, insolent. “What are you talking about, Lilly?”
“I don’t know,” I say, throwing up my hands. “How about why you’ve been walking around like someone killed your dog? Or why you’re so adamant to defend me when you don’t even want anything to do with me? You don’t get the right to chase off someone who’s flirting with me when you’ve made it perfectly clear there’s nothing between us.”
“There it is,” he says, pointing at me. “This has nothing to do with me trying to make sure you’re safe. Why can’t you listen to me when I say I can’t do a relationship right now?”
“Who said I ever wanted a relationship!”
The silence that descends after my outburst is deafening. His face is red, partially due to the amount of alcohol running through him, and partially due to the amount of yelling that just occurred. A vein throbs on the edge of his temple. Acting on impulse, I place my thumb aga
inst it, trying to slow the pounding there.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through right now. I’m sorry you feel like you have to go through it alone. And I’m sorry I’m making it worse. That originally wasn’t my intention.”
His mouth is opened slightly and our breaths converge between us. He pushes me up against the counter, and less than a second later his lips are on mine. Our mouths clash, uncoordinated, and our teeth hit from the force. His tongue immediately pushes into mine, and it elicits a moan. His hips press hard against mine, pinning me back as I tug on his shirt, pulling it up. He pulls back long enough to help me, but he doesn’t waste any time before his lips are back. Forcefully, he lifts my shirt up over my chest, exposing my bra.
Lifting me, he places me on the breakfast bar, making my chest level with his. His lips trail over my neck and skip over the shirt bunched there, pulling my bra down to expose my breasts. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but all I can think is how incredibly hot this is. His mouth lands on one breast and he wraps his arms around my back, arching my body into his.
He nips me, and I grab his hair, yanking his head back. My teeth clamp down on his lip in return. He takes my punishment with a guttural sound, only making me want more. I lace my fingers through his belt and undo it, pulling it through its loops. He finishes off my work, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper as I undo mine. He grabs the back of my knees, pulling me forward, causing me to lie back against the cool tiles. I lift my hips as he drags my jeans over them until they’re on the floor with his shirt.
I’m waiting on a comment about my lack of underwear, but when I look down, I see nothing but fire in his eyes. There's something dark. Need or something he’s chasing. But I’m pretty sure I’m chasing it, too.
“Shit,” he says, running his hand down his face. And it’s the first sign of hesitation. Stopping it mid thought, I sit up and pull his mouth to mine.
His kisses are slower, more controlled, so I nip at his neck, trying to get the fire back. He tightens his grip on my hips. “Lilly…” Deciding on another tactic, I slide my hand down his pants. His hips jerk against the feel of my palm on him. I stroke him leisurely a few times before I give him a strong pull. “Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.
He retrieves a condom from his wallet, pinning me back to the table. “I’m sorry,” is the last thing he says before he pushes into me. I have no time to decipher the meaning before my back arches off the table. Justin’s forearm is banded around my lower back, pulling me down onto him. He doesn't bother to muffle his response, and it’s like throwing fire onto my already scorched body. I've never experienced being with someone in this way. It's raw, uncoordinated, and fucking fantastic.
We’re gripping each other so hard I’m positive there’s going to be bruising, neither one of us letting up. I trail my hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscles of his back as he pushes into me. And every push is a means to an end. There’s no other thought but getting what we both desire in one another.
I don’t have one coherent thought. Nothing else exists for these blissful moments. I was wrong when I said I felt like I was going to snap. No, it’s now, most definitely now. My entire body locks around his, chasing this spark until the edge when he meets me at the same point. His teeth clamp down on my shoulder, and I dig my nails into his sides, wanting this feeling to last forever.
We lay unmoving, him on top of me, our arms still around each other as we catch our breaths. He makes the first move, placing an open-mouth kiss on my shoulder, in the same spot he bit. He pulls away and helps me sit up, never taking his eyes off of mine. I keep my emotions in check, hoping I don’t show the amount of unease that seeped in with his departure. He disposes of the condom and pulls his pants up from around his thighs as I fix my shirt and bra.
“Shower?” he asks, unsure.
I pull some of the damp hair off my neck and nod. “Please.”
Laughing, he helps me to my feet, and I wince. “Are you okay?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I think my entire body is going to be sore.”
His cheeks are tinged red, a flush covering his chest and neck. “The bathroom is in my bedroom to the right. Give me a second to clean up our mess.”
Walking with as much dignity as I can muster, I march my bare ass to his bedroom and I don’t stop to look at the queen-sized bed or dresser. Being alone is my only goal, and I shut the door behind me. It’s tiny, with a pedestal sink and the same tile on the walls as the kitchen. Sterile is the best word to describe Justin’s bathroom. Everything is plain, white, and extremely clean.
I cut the water on, adjusting the temperature as I get the remainder of my clothes off. A bottle of all-in-one body wash sits on the shelf next to the showerhead. I take a sniff, expecting it to smell like Justin, but it doesn’t. Justin smells clean but earthy. This smells pungent and closely resembles the horror of anything Axe.
“What are you thinking about?” Justin asks, pulling the shower curtain back and getting in. His arrival soothes some of the hurt from the kitchen. I stand with my back to the spray, slowly running the remaining soap from my hair. Instead of answering, I shake my head, half in confusion and lack of words to process it.
His eyes take me in and I do the same. We didn’t have a chance to take a moment to appreciate each other. I’ve never been particularly insecure. Only in times when I’ve had to stand in a room full of women did I ever feel judged for my body. But in front of Justin, I want to be perfect.
To fight my desire to cover my flaws, I reach out for him instead, placing my hands flat on his chest. His muscles jump underneath my touch. I don’t look up at him as I trail my hands up and over his shoulders, and down his arms, stopping when I see the marks. Nail marks cover his sides from his ribs to his shoulders.
Without the hurry from before, Justin leans his face into the crook of my neck. His chest rises deeply against mine as he breathes in. “I don’t want to say anything to ruin this,” he says into my shoulder. “But I need to tell you that I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
My breathing stills against his.
He lifts his head from my neck to look at me. “I tried to keep my distance from you, to not let it come this far, but I literally can’t stay away from you.”
Little droplets of water gather on the tips of his eyelashes, each blink releasing more. The dark circles under his eyes are still there but less visible than before, and I smile because I know that I eased whatever was troubling him, even if it wasn't in the smartest way.
“I never asked you to stay away.”
“I know.” His fingers trail the bite mark above my breast. He outlines the two crescent moons that face each other. Turmoil lurks behind his eyes as he starts in on the second bite on my clavicle.
Pulling his hand away, I run his fingers over my lips. “Quit thinking.”
“That's funny coming from you.”
His face is stoic, his eyes jumping over me. He kisses me. It’s chaste, a small kiss, but he’s close enough for me to feel him. “Let’s get cleaned up and watch a movie.”
“A movie?” I laugh.
“Got a thing against movies?”
“It’s just, I figured, you know, that I’d go home…now.”
“We’ve both been drinking. I don’t think driving is a good idea, and it’s too far to walk.”
“But isn’t this crossing a line? Staying after sex?”
“Lilly,” he says, a resigned smile on his face. “We’re watching a movie, just like when we’ve watched Family Feud and pigged out on potato chips.” Turning me around, he pins my body up against his and I can feel every inch of him. “Besides, we blew the line up when I fucked you in my kitchen.”
THE ROOM IS ENCOMPASSED in darkness when I awake alone in Justin's bed. I'm completely cocooned within the blanket, hiding any bit of skin from the whirl of the ceiling fan. I went to bed with the fan definitely off, but apparently it was turned on in the middle of the
night. Justin sleeps with every appendage stretched to its max capacity, and he ended up kicking the mountain of covers to my side. I don’t understand why he even has them if he refuses to use them.
Justin’s voice trails in from the crack in the doorway. Unsure of what time it is, I decide to get up and find my phone. I use the bathroom and redo my hair, thinking of saving Justin from my morning bed head and scarring him for life. Peeking out the door, I see him pacing the living room on the phone. Identifying that it’s safe to come out, I wrap the comforter around myself. His back is to me as I wade across the living room to get to my phone off the coffee table.
“I’m not sure,” he says into the phone. He rubs his eyes like he does when he’s particularly tired. “I haven’t figured that out yet.” His words clip off when he catches sight of me. “Look, Mom. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you later, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he hangs up.
“You don't have to get off the phone because of me.”
“I needed an excuse to get off, anyway. I don't know how long I could hold off the Spanish Inquisition.”
“She worries a lot about you?”
“You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head.
I scroll through my texts, getting more anxious with every missed call from Kip. “My brother's going to kill me.”
“Seems like we're both dealing with overprotective parents this morning.”
He's leaning his back against the bar, the same one we…yeah, he's drinking a cup of coffee. Nothing strange about this at all. And I feel like a complete pervert that I can't seem to find the will to think about anything other than touching him. I consider actually doing it, seeing where it goes, but he's completely dressed and ready for the day. I'm the one still nude. I text Kip and glance around the room and into the kitchen. “What did you do with my clothes?”
“I folded them. They’re sitting on top of the dresser.”
“Oh, I didn’t see them.” I walk past him to get to his bedroom, and we hold eye contact the entire way. Granted, it's like six steps, but it's long enough for me to see the heat in them. He turns away and walks into the kitchen.
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