by T K Barber
“Yeah, when he took me to Storm Bar on that, uh, night. He was really close with the bartender and was showing me off to a guy 'behind a curtain' which sounds even weirder to say out loud.”
Nick’s brain was on fire. There was just too much information being thrown at him, and too much anxiety filling every square inch of his body.
Storm Bar. He was leaving that hit at the hotel right next door! For the love of God, they were there at the same time! He had been a block away from her. If he'd known . . . well, a person could drown in those words.
His stomach dropped as the picture cleared. Things were seriously pointing to that jerk wad—
“Scarlet. What is that tool's name?”
“Steven Greene. He works in the legal department on the top floor of my building.”
Nick stared hard at her as she picked a loose string off his sister's pillow. He knew next to nothing about this woman. And yet, he knew good and damn well how he felt about her.
What kind of sense did that make? How did something like that even work? And he couldn't forget 'Oh, by the way, you're staying here until I manage to kill enough people for this to end and you don't even know my last name.' He laughed at himself, and she raised a brow.
“What now?” She tossed the pillow back onto the couch and loosely crossed her arms, resting them on the bar top again. He couldn't help but notice, and the fog drifted back in. He rubbed a hand over his facial hair and sighed.
“Scarlet, do you realize you're in my apartment?”
She sat up straight and pursed her lips. “Yeah. I got that.” She grinned and shot him a sideways look. “Don't worry; I don't snore.”
His face went slack as his jaw dropped open, and she laughed. He hadn't even thought about sleeping arrangements. Dear God, how in the world was this going to work!? He rubbed the other side of his face and cleared his throat, then smiled.
“Not . . . really what I was getting at . . . but that's also great. To know. I'm saying, this has got to be one of the most screwed up situations in the world.”
She eyed him a moment and shrugged while nodding. Her reactions were blowing his mind!
“Scarlet, we don't know anything about each other.” He leaned back against the front of the sink and crossed his arms.
She rested her chin on her hand and smiled at him like she knew the answer to the world's problems and was keeping it a secret. He knitted his brow and waited.
“I know that you like saying my name.” She said, flashing him a quick, toothy smile before falling back into a smaller one.
He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. How did she know that? Oh. Well, it was probably obvious, actually. She laughed and shrugged again.
“Don't worry; I love the way it sounds when you say it. You make it sound important, or special. Sexy even.”
Well, she was important. And special. And insanely sexy. Probably not the best time to share that information. In fact, there wasn't a good time. She shouldn't be here. She cast her eyes up and to the left and bounced her leg slowly on the spindle of the stool. He clenched his jaw.
“What else? Oh, I know that you manage a big hardware store, which is impressive. And now I know that you drive an old, restored, cherry red truck. And have a sister. And a lovely little apartment that doesn’t look like it belongs in this building. And you can cook.” She twisted her lips to the side and then smiled. “At least, you claim you can. That remains to be seen.”
He chuckled and shook his head as she continued. Why were they so far apart? His body twitched, begging him to move.
“And you're a complete badass who's saved me twice. And you have an expensive-looking gun that you obviously know how to use. And you're a great teacher.” She winked, drawing a sigh, an eye roll, and a smile from him. She shrugged again. “See? I know lots about you. But, you don't know anything about me, I'm sure. So, ask me whatever you want.”
Well, she was wrong about that.
“Not so. I know lots about you too.”
She barked a laugh. “Alright, prove it.”
Okay, great. Now time to cash that check. Thanks, mouth. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mmk. I know that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Both physically and mentally. In fact, that was one of the first things I noticed about you. That night.”
She frowned and shrugged.
“I can tell you don't like getting help from people.” He tapped his fingers against the edge of the counter, and she leaned further back on the stool. He watched her tuck more nothing behind her ear and tried not to fall over the cliff he’d been teetering on since he met her.
“I know that you work in an office building. Also, that you apparently have an aversion to wearing shoes. Otherwise, I'm not sure how you'd explain taking them off not twenty minutes after being in a stranger's house.” He grinned and inclined his head to her black heels.
She nodded and grinned back, but her smile dropped rapidly, and she cleared her throat.
“You're not a stranger.”
He caught her expression shift but continued.
“I think I know that you like flowers?”
She nodded and smiled again. There, that was a much better expression on her. He liked that one.
“I know that you have at least one friend, that you called to come get you . . . after . . . Scarlet, about . . .”
He blew out a slow breath. God. There wasn't an 'about that' he could give her. What the holy hell was he going to say? There was no explanation. Other than the one she shouted at him as he walked away.
She stared at the edge of the bar and found something to pick at, and he uncrossed his arms, then rested his hands on the counter at his sides. She even wore a sad expression well. He didn't like to see it, but she was still beautiful. He watched her avoid looking at him for another few seconds before he cleared his throat.
“I'm sorry.”
That was it. That was all he could give her. He begged the universe for her to accept it and move on.
“You know,” she said to the counter. “I'm not going to lie. That sucked. It sucked bad enough outside your store, but right after being attacked like that?”
She swallowed and picked harder at whatever it was.
He crossed his arms again and frowned as he softened his tone. “Not sure it'll make a difference, but I made sure you got in your friend’s car. I didn't just . . . walk completely away.”
She squinted at him and chewed the side of her mouth. “Why? Why not stay?”
He let out a long sigh. For one, if he had, he'd have given her exactly what she begged for. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. Not something he was going to tell her. What was he thinking bringing her here? What was he thinking, hoping he could carry on a normal conversation with anyone, let alone her? Then inspiration hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. Perfect.
“Scarlet, I've been alone a while,” he cleared his throat. “Then I met you, and you started filling my thoughts.”
Hold up. These words were coming a bit too easily. This was supposed to be a lie. He shifted on his feet.
“It scared me a little. It wasn't something I was expecting. So, I pushed it away. Then you came to me today and I just . . .”
Okay brain . . . enough truth/lying for one month. He blew out an amused breath and shook his head.
“Yeah, you've had an about flip. Honestly, I thought you'd turn me away. I was prepared for that. And the face you make when you see me.” She shrugged and stared off into the living room, giving him a perfect view of her profile. He furrowed his brow and frowned.
“Face?”
“Yeah. Like you're in pain, or you hate me. Or hate being around me. Like the fact that I'm even talking to you annoys you.” She looked back at him and pointed with a small smile. “Looks a lot like that one.”
Oh, she had it so wrong.
He relaxed his expression and took three steps from the sink t
o the other bar stool. He spun her around to face him as he sat. She raised her eyebrows and propped her cute, pedicured feet up on the spindles of his stool, between his legs, drawing his gaze.
He had to cross his arms to keep from running his hands over her again. She was too close. They were too close. He breathed in and blinked. She smelled amazing. They weren't close enough.
“Scarlet . . .”
He halfway covered his mouth, and she grinned smugly. He did like saying her name. Sometimes he wasn't sure how to start a sentence without it.
“Yes, Nick?” she teased.
He smiled and shook his head. She was making it incredibly difficult to have a stoic, serious conversation. Which he was certain they needed to have. For some reason.
“I don't hate talking to you. I don't hate being around you. Quite . . . the opposite actually.”
He knew he should stop. Knew it. That he should just get up. Just get up, walk to the other side of the room, stare out the window and pretend she wasn't making him crazy. Pretend she wasn't filling his entire apartment with light. That she wasn't chasing shadows out of the corners of his heart.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked at them nervously. Why did she seem so confident sometimes, and then suddenly want to hide? He uncrossed his arms and draped one over the edge of the bar, the other on his hip.
“You certainly don't cause me any pain.”
He wasn't sure when his hand had dropped down, but it hovered above her knee before he knew it. Her skirt shifted when she moved her feet, and his eyes scanned the entire length of her visible leg, stopping at the shadow created by the hem.
All he wanted was to touch her skin. See if it was as soft as it looked. It made it one hundred times harder to resist knowing she wanted the same damn thing. He withdrew his hand and rested it on his own knee.
She hadn't noticed, lost in thought as she stared at her palms. He was lost in thought about her palms too. Damn it. Being this close to her was a serious problem. Why weren't they kissing yet?
His brain buzzed when he was struck with her scent again. His favorite flavor of ice-cream. The best pudding on the planet. The only kind of cake worth eating. Everything Scarlet.
Just a taste should be okay.
It would have been better to go back to the counter. He should have gotten up and gone back to the counter.
One more kiss wouldn’t hurt anything.
But he didn't. He licked his lips and fought to keep his lungs in check, while she flipped one hand over to examine her knuckle.
While he could somewhat moderate his breathing, his brain was another matter. He imagined smoothing his palm up the length of her arm, slowly across her collarbone, and down the center of her chest. His arms ached to move. Every part of him wanted to touch her. Why wasn't he touching her? He blinked in confusion.
He fought with why he was fighting this at all. God those lips. He swallowed and stretched his neck. Why couldn't he just give her what she wanted? What he wanted?
There had to be a reason. She tucked another piece of nothing behind her ear, and he watched as her fingers dragged down the lobe. He ached to taste the same spot. To tongue the skin, graze it with his teeth and watch the chill bumps spread on her neck. There was a reason . . . right?
“Are you su—”
She cut her eyes to him, and her mouth parted as a breath escaped her. He had apparently failed at hiding the desire in his eyes. When she nervously tugged on her earlobe and chewed her lip, he stopped breathing.
Fuck it.
He reached out and cupped her face.
The rest of her air left her on a startled gasp. “Wha—”
“Scarlet,” he breathed, slowly running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.
The shiver that rocked her body was almost more than he could take, but he had to be sure.
“Is this still what you want?”
Please God, let the answer be yes. Otherwise, he had about twelve cold showers in a row in his incredibly immediate future.
She reached her hand out and pressed it to the center of his chest, offering him the single sexiest smile he’d seen in his life.
Nick
Scarlet turned her fingers into claws and raked them down his torso, putting him dangerously close to being unable to rein it in. She flattened her hand against his stomach and hummed. Jesus, what a hot noise. His muscles clenched and his grip tightened.
She dragged her eyes up to his, half-lidded and smoldering. “Apparently hitting things has its perks.”
He grinned and shrugged, letting out a soft grunt when she hooked her fingertips into his waistband, and jerked him forward, arching her back to meet him. Maybe he wouldn't have to rein it in. That would be outstanding. He moved his hand back and tangled his fingers in her hair, but . . . he hesitated.
It was far beyond obvious that they both wanted it. So, why?
He gazed at her beautiful, hopeful face. Her glowing amber eyes, almost glazed over. Her pouty lips. Listened to her rapid breaths which matched his own. Smelled her delectable vanilla scent . . .
His eyebrows pinched in the center, and he swallowed. This meant way more to him than he wanted it to. More than it should. And far more than he deserved. She meant way more. Goddamnit.
“Nick, don't you dare.” She narrowed her eyes and reached up to grab his face, her nails pushing against his jaw.
He covered her hands with his. “Scarlet. What if this . . .” Jesus, was he really about to kill the entire mood? His brain and body were at war. He swallowed. “. . . meant more to me than just . . . sex? Would you still want it?”
Her eyes went wide, and she popped her fingers straight, releasing his face. He let his hands fall to the curve of her waist as she moved her hands to his shoulders and searched his eyes.
“Is that really how you feel?”
Her voice was different, airy. Well, no point in trying to send that train back to the station. He cleared his throat and cocked his jaw, thrusting his tongue against his cheek.
“Yeah.”
She jerked her hands up and held his face, scanning his eyes again. He could only assume that was a good sign since she didn't run screaming. She opened her mouth to speak but furrowed her brows and frowned instead.
“You gonna run again?”
She held his gaze with her own sultry, smoky one, daring him to move.
If this was what taking her power back looked like, he was so fucking glad to have eyes.
He smirked as he ducked his head down, letting his lips brush against her ear as he spoke. The scent of her hair threatened to drown him, and he threaded his fingers through it again.
“Hell no.” He grazed her earlobe with his teeth, and she gasped.
The shiver that rippled her skin this time was different, pulling air from his lungs, and his body stiffened.
He all but growled the words out. “You're about to be mine, babe.”
She whimpered as she launched herself up from the stool and wrapped her arms around his neck before she pulled her face back and kissed him. Hard.
That was definitely a good sign.
Her exquisite mouth was exactly as fantastic as last time. Not that he expected anything less. Even her damn lip gloss tasted like vanilla. It was like she was put on this earth to drive him insane.
He groaned and lifted her by the waist, depositing her on the bar top where he slowly pushed her skirt higher as he slid his hands up the outside of her thighs. Her skin was just as soft as he hoped. She hadn't released his mouth yet, and let out a moan that he greedily took, replacing it with one of his own.
Why hadn't they been doing this all along? No idea.
She broke the kiss, and he trailed nibbles down her jaw to the nape of her neck where he could feel her gasps. He gripped her thighs tighter, and she raked her nails down his shoulders as he spoke against her skin.
“Where d—”
“Don't know,
don't care, you pick,” she gasped out like she was suffocating.
He laughed against her neck, and she practically purred, setting his brain on fire. The decision was instant, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. He slid her off the bar and against his chest. She wrapped her legs around him and held onto his neck, hungrily kissing him.
Thank God he knew the layout of his apartment or who knows how many walls he'd have hit on the way.
He dropped with her to the bed, and she kept their mouths together, swirling her tongue over his in dizzying circles. He reached down and fought to get his shoes off.
Pretty certain he knew how to do it before, but he was having way too much damn trouble right then.
He finally succeeded and matched her pace, pushing her skirt up past her hips while she yanked his shirt untucked and made a desperate grab for his belt buckle. His brain kicked in and his eyes popped open.
“Condom?” He managed between kisses.
She wrenched her mouth away, moaning as he lavished her neck.
“I’m—” she sucked in a breath. “On the pill. And I’m clean.”
He groaned and stilled with his teeth mid graze. “Me too. The clean part. Not the —”
“Oh, thank God.”
He chuckled and reclaimed her mouth, then leaned up to finish getting undressed. No reason for her to do all the work.
Raw need stormed through his veins as he watched her frantically paw her own shirt, and his eyes traveled every visible part of her creamy skin. It glowed in the low-level light of the bathroom, the softness of it causing the reflection to blur. He didn’t want to miss an inch.
In a reverent motion, he ran a finger across the arch of her foot, around her heel and up her ankle, the sensation hypnotizing. She stilled and let out a small gasp, watching him with half-lidded focus as he continued to trace the line of her calf. When she moaned, he was temporarily blinded with lust, before refocusing and moving up behind her knee.
He read her skin with his fingertips like a person without sight memorized things for later use. For a sense of security. Safety.
He flattened his hand and continued traveling the inside of her thigh, slower than he thought he was capable of. Her skin twitched, then she smirked at him, lifting her hips and sliding the nearly microscopic triangle of fabric slowly down her legs, forcing his hand to move before she kicked it off with a flick. He exhaled sharply and bent down to place a hot kiss on her inner thigh. The faint salt of her skin mixed with her sweet scent overwhelmed him with maddening desire.