Covalent Bonds

by Trysh Thompson

  Emily stared at him blankly. “Ears? He has two. He’s a human.” She glanced around at the table. “Isn’t he?”

  “Nope, he has three; the left ear, the right ear, and the final frontier.” He grinned guiltily.

  In spite of herself, Emily laughed. She poked him in the chest, distracted by the fact she was touching him. She couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders beneath his tee and remember what it felt like to claw at them in pleasure. Blushing deeper, she pulled her eyes upwards, trying to remember what she was going to say. “See, this is why you’ll never be cool. Bad jokes, bad taste, and a love for Star Trek that I’ll just never understand.”

  He winked. “But I have great taste in women.” As he spoke, his eyes warmed in that delicious way that never failed to send a familiar throb between her legs.

  “Maybe,” Tim said, leaning forward to interrupt their almost-private moment. “But it took you long enough to catch her. Two years of loving her from afar, two years of being awkward and uncommunicative…” He winked at Emily. “I’ll bet you anything that she made the first move. Not you.”

  Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She felt her chest constrict, whether in fear or excitement, she wasn’t sure. Shocked, she turned a questioning look to Jack, who just shrugged, as he scratched the base of his reddening neck, embarrassed. Tim saw their silent communication and had the good grace to look awkward. “Oh shit, I guess you hadn’t got that far?”

  Jack gave another weak shrug. “We haven’t… you know…”

  “Sorry, man. I’ll…” He swallowed the last mouthful of his beer and stood. “Come on Ben, we’ll get the next round.” He tugged the other man to his feet and pulled him away from the table.

  Emily barely noticed. She only had eyes for Jack. “You love me?”

  He gazed down on her, the love on his face indisputable. “I always have, sweetheart. I thought I made that clear the first night we, you know… I just never said the words. I knew it was too soon for you. That you didn’t feel quite as deeply as me.”

  Tears built up in Emily’s eyes. She felt emotion rising in her chest and fought against it, not wanting to cry openly in public. “I do. I do feel that deeply. I love you too, you big nerd.”

  For a brief second, his eyes widened. Then he clutched at the back of her head and pulled her into an urgent kiss, the depth of his feeling washing over her. When they broke apart, he tugged her to his chest once more and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I love you,” he said again.

  A mischievous idea came to her. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Very solemnly, she said. “I know.”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘I know,’” she said again, this time with more emphasis. Then, giggling, she hummed the Star Wars theme. She barely got two seconds in before he kissed her again, this time more shamefully eager than was proper for a family pub. When he finally pulled back, he looked at her with a mixture of awe and lust. He pressed a quick kiss against her temple.

  “You are the most amazing nerd, Emily. Not geek, but nerd through and through.” He paused, giving her a disapproving look, “But I’m not sure why you got to be Han Solo in this particular scene.”

  Mara Malins is an English writer of romance who battles spreadsheets by day and fiction by night. She lives in Manchester with her menagerie of three cats, two turtles and a long-term partner. She has work forthcoming with Pen and Kink Publishing.

  Better Than Chocolate

  Tellulah Darling

  It all started with a bag of peanut M&M’s, though being drunk and angry may have played a role. All Sadie knew was that when a hand reached for the last bag of candy—her bag—she didn’t think twice before swatting it away with a sharp slap and a glower. Upon seeing the owner of said hand, her spirits sank. Niccolò Rossi had been her high school’s resident bad boy and if the rumors were to be believed, nephew of the devil himself.

  He clamped his hand over hers, his hard stare her cue to let go of the bag. She’d always heard that what Niccolò wanted he got, through charm or intimidation. Apparently, he hadn’t changed his modus operandi in the year since graduation.

  Sadie fumed at being the recipient of the latter tactic, though. It seemed she didn’t rate high enough to be charmed with his infamous grin that had caused many a girl to “fall”—into his backseat, onto his dick. Seriously?

  Any other night, she might have relinquished the candy and that would have been that. But tonight Sadie was in the mood to make bad decisions, and eating her weight in chocolate was currently top of the list.

  She yanked the crinkly, yellow plastic away from him, causing her crazy red curls to jerk. “Hands off the phenylethylamine, Satan.”

  Nic casually rested one hand on the convenience store rack, frowning, as if trying to place her.

  “Don’t strain yourself, Nicky.” She waved the bag at him. “I’ll save you the processing power. Sadie—”

  “Lipovsky. Yeah, I know. I had to listen to you show off for five years in English.” He flicked a black curl off his forehead, his green eyes scowling down at her.

  Sadie puffed herself up to her full five-foot-three height, wishing she’d worn heels to the party tonight and not her kick-ass, lace-up Fluevog boots. She wanted to be eye-level with him, not nipple-level. Harder to intimidate by a factor of a billion from nip height. “It was called answering the questions. Hope you learned something.”

  With that, she spun sharply on her heel and stalked up to the dude at the cash register. She cleared her throat a couple of times to get his attention away from the allure of whatever the hell was on his phone. Not that she really blamed him. What else was there to do working at midnight in a gas station convenience store?

  Rooting around in her blazer pocket for the correct change, Sadie dumped the coins on the counter before shouldering her way out the door, and tearing into the bag. Vancouver had been enjoying a gorgeous late summer into September, but on this last weekend of the month, that first taste of fall had crept in. She shivered slightly at the hint of chill in the air.

  The reds and blues of the lit convenience store sign cast a cool Blade Runner vibe on her corner of the parking lot, courtesy of the row of shots she’d done earlier. Bring on the pleasure bots. And speaking of pleasure… She inhaled the Eau Du Candy Coating aroma in happy anticipation. After the disaster the night had become, there was no room for subtlety. Eyes closed, she tipped the bag up, determined to dump half its contents into her mouth in one fell swoop.

  Nothing happened.

  Sadie snapped her eyes open to find Nic’s hand between the M&M’s and her mouth. Standing there smirking, collecting candy bound for her.

  Think again, buddy.

  She bit him.

  He yelped, snatching his hand away, and knocking the bag. Bite-sized pieces of bliss in yellow, green, and red bounced in all directions on the pavement. “What the holy fuck?” Nic twisted his hand, examining it carefully. “You better not have left teeth marks, psycho.”

  Sadie planted her hands on her hips. She was in the right. Plus she had a rule: only one asshole a night. Nicky exceeded her quota.

  “Stop calling me Nicky,” he growled. “I’m not an asshole. Or Satan. You’re not funny.”

  Shit. He’d heard her. She’d said the quiet part aloud. She tended to do that when she was drunk. “If the brimstone fits,” she shot back.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t owe you witty repartee. Or logic.”

  Enough of him. Sadie wandered off and sat down on the curb next to the air pump, rattling the bag for whatever paltry fix she could get—three pieces. That was it. So much for the sugary rush of feel-good in her mouth.

  Nic sat down beside her. “The night’s still young,” he said in an amused voice. “Plenty of time for feel-good in your mouth.”

  Awesome. She’d done it again. “Quit eavesdropping on my inability to keep my thoughts to myself.” She shoved the bag at
him. “And throw this out.”

  He got the hint. He stood up and crossed over to the trash can.

  Good riddance. Sadie pulled her legs into her chest, wrapping an arm around her thigh high socks as she rested her cheek on her miniskirt. Fucking guys. Definite merits to the pleasure bot idea. Though Buffy the Vampire Slayer had proved robot relationships never ended well. Sadly, in her case, neither did the human variety. Which left her where? Oh yeah, sitting outside a gas station on a Saturday night.

  She growled, face-palming in frustration.

  “Who did the number on you?” Nic dropped down beside her again, legs splayed, leaning back on his elbows against the rough concrete.

  Nice legs.

  She sat up. “Don’t you have some biddable female to lure into your Satanmobile or something?”

  He shot her an aggrieved look. “I lent it to my sister because she’s pulling a late night at the library and I didn’t want her bussing home.”

  “Huh. That’s nice of you.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “I’ve got some devil’s candy in my pocket.”

  Sadie snorted. “That’s a lofty title for it.”

  “And if that doesn’t work,” he continued, “I kidnap puppies to dangle in front of hot chicks. Makes ’em weak,” he leered. He kicked at her ankle gently. “Answer the question.”

  “You first. Who’s responsible for your delightful mood this evening?” She smoothed her skirt down primly.

  Nic pulled back warily. “No one.” Yeah, right. From the speed he went stone-faced, she’d hit a nerve.

  “Sure.” She didn’t much care one way or another what his problem was. Only that his pissiness had infringed on her inalienable right to chocolate. “You’re sitting at an air pump with a strange girl on a Saturday night for the sheer joy of it.”

  “Only moderately strange. And we can remedy the sheer joy part.” He stood up and reached a hand out to her. “Wanna get out of here?”

  “That sounds suspiciously like hitting on me. Why ever would you do that?”

  “You’re here. You’re cute.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

  “Bzz. Wrong order. And insulting. Thanks for playing.” Though, she had to admit, a delicious shiver speared through her at his touch. He was strong. Warm. And really, really cute. She’d done enough surreptitious studying of him over the years to be an expert on that fact. Nic equaled hot Satan, and that was an objective fact.

  Sadie pulled her hand away, stuffing it in her blazer pocket where it wouldn’t do something embarrassing—like pull up his sweater and fondle him.

  He leaned in, laying one hand lightly on her hip. “Take two. How about we both had shitty nights so far and maybe we could salvage what’s left together?”

  She scooted back a bit as he expounded on that point, standing there annoyingly tall, dark, and bad boy, smelling like spice and sin. His mouth was working and on some level she was listening, but mostly she was staring at his lips and thinking that those lips on hers would probably be a lot like having the candy coating sucked right off her.

  While she thankfully did not blurt that out, she telegraphed something because his eyes lit up with an interested gleam. “Maybe a lot better than salvage,” he amended.

  “Mutual using for feel-good purposes?” Sadie bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating.

  Considering.

  Hot rebound versus walk of shame. She’d never had to do that awkward morning-after, full-of-regret shuffle. Though, admittedly, she’d never had the great head-banging sex that justified it either. Eric, her ex, had been consistently pleasant. The equivalent of a win-win certificate for just showing up, when she wanted, no, deserved, the shiny gold medal for being an awesome girlfriend and 21st century woman.

  She eyed Nic, eyebrow cocked as he waited for her answer. Being of the breathing persuasion, she wasn’t immune to his charms. Perchance his glossy curls and wicked grin had figured in a fantasy or seventy-three during her impressionable high school years. And yet…

  “Three days ago, my boyfriend dumped me,” she said. “Two days ago he told me he’d cheated on me.”

  “Interesting order of events. And tonight?” Nic laughed at her owlish blink. “Come on. There had to be a tonight portion of this story.”

  “Tonight he brought his new girlfriend to my best friend’s party.”

  “Ah.” He raised his hands like he was backing off. “Got it.”

  Sadie grabbed his arm before he could he step away. “So if I’m going to rebound, I want to make sure it’s worth it.”

  “I don’t audition.” His voice was flat.

  “Too bad.” Sadie jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not going to randomly hook up simply because you have a pretty face. I want a booty-call guarantee of excellence.” Proving his worth was the least he could do to make up for the candy heist. Plus, her libido was driving the Sadie train now and its prime directive was “touch him.” Obeying seemed like a plan so she steadied her hands on his shoulders and rose onto her tiptoes. “Casting couch time, babykins.”

  She kissed him.

  He resisted, standing stiffly for about ten seconds.

  She sucked on his bottom lip, licking into the corner of his mouth.

  Nic groaned. His arm came around her, hauling her up against him. He took over the kiss and turned it white hot, its brightness shocking. “Do I get the part?” he purred, his lips vibrating against the sensitive skin under her jaw.

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered because she was incapable of forming coherent words.

  He chuckled, lacing his fingers through hers. “Want to go back to your place?”

  She let him tug her onto the sidewalk. “Yeah, no. Couldn’t afford university and residence so I live at home. Mom is part owl with her super hearing. Your place?”

  He scrunched up his face, hesitating before replying, “We can try.”

  “There is no try. Or spoon. There is only do,” she said, mixing her Star Wars and Matrix references.

  He tugged on one of her red corkscrew curls. “You are such a geek.”

  That was a huge step up from her laughingstock status earlier. “Don’t mock us geek girls,” she said as he led her down the sidewalk. “We’re widely read and astoundingly creative.”

  He winked. “Creative works.”

  They veered off from the main avenue into a quiet residential neighborhood. Sadie was itchy with anticipation—and nerves. Lots of those. Nic held her hand but other than that, didn’t say much as he turned them into Trimble Park, a wide green space and playground overlooking Vancouver.

  She sighed at the breathtaking view of the inky water with dots of lights from the tankers and the downtown core that blazed beyond. “Gorgeous.”

  Beside her, Nic stilled. She snuck a glance to find him looking out at the city laid out before them.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It really is.”

  He looked so serene, this perfect fallen angel sent here to tempt her. Sadie ached to touch more than his hand. That stupid sweater of his was a barrier that had to go. She turned into him, burrowing her hand under the fabric, tracing the perfection of his abs with her fingers in slow swirls.

  That spurred him into action. Nic clasped the back of her head with his hand and swooped in to kiss her. His lips were a godsend, and his hands were pretty much virtuosos as well.

  They stumbled over to a park bench, a tangle of body parts, both of them trying to get closer, tugging clothes aside, wanting the heat of skin on skin. The fact that they could be caught at any second by a passerby was even more of a turn-on.

  His hand wormed under her bra, tweaking her nipple sharply. Sadie moaned.

  “Fuck.” His voice sounded rough. He grabbed her hand and pretty much sprinted them three blocks to a squat stucco apartment building as Sadie dazedly attempted to straighten her clothes. It took a bit of fumbling to get his key in front door lock of the building, what with all the other fumbling happening between them, but he did and they
raced up two flights to the place he shared with his roommate Jack.

  Nick slammed Sadie’s back into his apartment door, his hands fisting into her curls. She wrapped a leg around his waist in perfect hussy formation, grinding against him.

  He shoved his leg between hers. Whoa, hello? Some very friendly straining to come out and play there from behind his denim.

  She leaned into his weight. Fuck the fantasy. The reality was so much better. Licking, sucking. She was drowning in sensation and at the same time not nearly in deep enough. More please. And now.

  “Key?” she mumbled, coming up for air.

  “Uh-huh.” Nic jammed the key in the apartment’s lock and the door fell open.

  They stumbled inside. Backward.

  A beefy guy wearing nothing but confederate flag boxer shorts caught her. “Watch it, darlin’,” he said in a terrible fake Southern accent. He lifted a bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips and took a swig before holding it out to her. “Drink?”

  “Shit,” Nic muttered.

  Sadie looked around in horrified fascination at the party raging around them. Kid Rock blasted out of the speakers. She must really have been distracted out in the hallway to miss the sound of that musical offense.

  Over the sofa hung a banner that read Redneck is the new black. The shabby living room was packed with dozens of partygoers wearing the latest in denim-hued, swamp-forward fashion. At least the trowelled-on make-up most of the girls wore added a nice splash of color.

  Jack scratched his chest, making little tufts out of his dark hair. “Ain’t no thing,” he assured Nic. “I kept everyone out of your room. Even cleaned it up for the party. As the gallant, considerate roommate I am.” He waggled his eyebrows at Sadie, blatantly checking her out. “I appreciate that you came here with Nic, but there’s no reason that can’t change. Though you’re a little overdressed.”

  Sadie doubtfully looked down at her blazer, gauzy shirt, mini skirt, and thigh highs then over at his boxers. She guessed that in comparison, she was.

  “I dunno, Jack,” Nic said, “I can think of a couple reasons. Sadie might not be a fan of herpes. Or failure to launch.”