Searching for Love

by Christine Zolendz

  Your legs look incredible.

  Nope, it was just an asshole. I dropped my hand, phone clasped in it tightly, to my side, dismissing the text instantly.

  I affixed my gaze back on Ryan, as people pushed past me, making their way toward the bar. Soon, I would have to make my own way there and swallow down at least one drink and pretend to be sociable. My feet didn’t move though, because I still just kind of wanted to stare a little more at him.

  Then, as if he heard me say his name, he straightened up and looked over his shoulder, right into my eyes. And my breath sort of whooshed out of my body, and everything around me just stopped, except for the tugging of my lips into a smile—that for the life of me I could not control.

  I’ve always been attracted to jerks. I was never getting married at this rate.

  Light from the small candles set on the bar top flickered strangely in his eyes. He did a double take, spilling his bottle of water as he tried to set it on the counter, accidently dousing out the candle. He smiled at me, a heart stopping sort of smile that reached from ear to ear, poking dimples deep into his cheeks. I laughed and quickly lowered my eyes, suddenly embarrassed he’d caught me watching him. My eyes focused on a small pretzel crumb on the floor, until the tips of his shoes came into my view.

  “You’re going to give one of these old guys a heart attack with that outfit.” I could hear the flirty smile in his voice, and feel the heat radiating from his body with how close he stood next to me.

  “Look at you, all cleaned up and pretty,” I teased back, lifting my gaze to meet with his.

  “Pretty?” He grimaced. “That’s a shitty thing to say to a man. Hot. Sexy. Fuckable. I’ll even take handsome. But never pretty.”

  I tried for my most innocent smile—the sexy one, my best friend Liv had taught me—and blinked up at him. “I’ll give you handsome.”

  “And I would give you,” he said smoothly, slowly dropping his gaze from my eyes to my lips, “absolutely anything you asked me for.” A devilish smile tugged at his lips.

  “Smooth, Cage. Really smooth.” My phone pinged five more times, quickly. I sighed and darted my eyes over its screen.

  I miss my cock in your mouth.

  And your tight pussy.

  You have such a tight pussy.

  I miss hearing you cum.

  What we had was great. I want it back.

  I thumbed back a short response.

  Please stop.

  “You want a drink?” Ryan asked, placing a hand on the small of my back, before leading me to the bar. The slight pressure of his palm against me was like a pinpoint of fire that spread out in gentle pulsing waves along my spine.

  I walked dreamily next to him, seemingly having lost all control of my mind. I cleared my throat and continued to smile straight ahead, nodding in answer. My tongue, it appeared, had lost the ability to form words. This wasn’t good.

  Ryan escorted me further along the bar, and pulled over a stool, patting the seat with his hand. “Go on, sit that gorgeous ass down.”

  I did as he said, stiffly, and placed my purse and my cell on the countertop. It went off three more times.

  I can’t stop.

  I can’t stop thinking about you and about us.

  You never thanked me for the flowers.

  I shoved my phone away angrily. I broke up with that asshole four weeks ago. I broke up with someone who never thought they were even in a relationship with me. Yet, he’d been sending me enormous bouquets of roses; so many that my entire house smelled like a funeral home. For weeks now.

  My screen lit up again, and I stared at the words spelled out across it, from where I left it.

  Don’t you miss me?

  Don’t you miss us?

  Yes, unfortunately, I did. I missed the times we spent getting to know one another and falling for each other, but what he did to me at the end was unforgivable. I was still shocked it happened. There were no signs of it coming. He just didn’t like something I said and boom, he thought he had the right to put his hands on me. Nope, I don’t play that way.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Ryan asked, next to me, his eyes full of concern.

  “Yeah, why?” I said, dropping my phone into my purse, so I wouldn’t hear it any more. I looked up to see him watching me closely.

  He tilted his head and leaned in closer, making me gulp back a gasp. Up this close, Ryan Cage was absolutely breathtaking. “You’re getting upset over whoever is texting you,” he said, tapping his fingers on my purse.

  “I’m fine, it’s nothing really.” I leaned back, the scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and I needed air—being so confined in the crowded bar with him smelling that good was making me dizzy.

  His eyes lingered on mine for a long, intense drawn out moment. Around us, the crowd blended into blurry colors and muted to low background murmurs. Slowly, one corner of his lips tugged up in a slow, sexy smile.

  He rubbed his thumb over the edge of my seat, and both of us looked down at it, watching the slow movement. The thought of his fingers so close to my legs sent shivers through my shoulders, and I physically shuddered on the stool.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked, leaning closer to me again.

  “Ex,” I breathed out, wetting my lips. They were so dry. Why were they so dry?

  On the countertop my purse exploded with the sounds of texts and calls from deep inside. The sounds were making me furious. They were totally cutting into my Ryan Cage fantasy time.

  “I kind of feel bad for the guy,” Ryan said, nudging his chin toward my bag.

  “Why?” I asked, suspiciously. If he was going to start ranting about giving my ex another chance while eye-humping me right now, I might just die.

  His gaze slowly trailed down my entire body, taking in every inch of me sitting in front of him. He leaned back, bit his lip, and gradually drew his eyes back up my frame, until they were once again fixed on mine. He took a deep breath in and slowly released it. “I’d have a hard time letting you go, too.” Then, he barked out a huge laugh and relaxed his shoulders. God, he was such a tease. How could any woman take him seriously?

  “Shut up,” I laughed, straightening my posture.

  “What? Why?” he flirted.

  “You think you got game. Coming up on me with your sugar-coated words,” I laughed. He was just messing around with me, nothing serious, he wasn’t really trying to start anything. It’s okay if I teased and bantered back.

  “Game? You want to play a game? How about we go somewhere dark and play what part of you is in my mouth?”

  I couldn’t help laughing. Loudly. God, the way Ryan Cage looked at you was the way all women dreamed of being looked at. It was silly to get all squirmy in my seat, but it was innocent enough. I knew nothing would happen between us, so a little flirting and having a smile on my face was nice. It had been a few months since I could flirt openly with someone I was attracted to.

  When the crowd of people ordering drinks next to us left, I saw my brother and his girlfriend sitting together in a small booth near the end of the bar. They’d been together for two months, starting back when I was with the asshole. It killed me not telling them what was happening. Now I hide it like pure shame.

  They were holding hands, and Dean’s face was buried in her neck. Her smile was amazing. I waved to her when her glance crossed mine, and she smiled wider, waving me over.

  I stood up and stretched, grabbing my purse off the bar. But before I could tell Ryan about joining Dean and Liv, a heavy hand grabbed me around my elbow, pulling me back. “Detective Cage,” the voice rumbled haughtily. “And Officer Fury.”

  “Sir,” Ryan greeted the man behind me with a respectful smile and nod.

  I spun around, lifting my face to the Captain and offered up a humble, friendly smile. His hand unhooked from my arm immediately. “Captain Anderson, How are you, Sir?” I waited for him to nod his head and continued. “Ryan and I were just about to get a drink with my brother and his girlfriend. Will yo
u excuse us?”

  “Yes, of course. You both have a good night,” he rumbled, nodding his head.

  Yanking Ryan by the arm, I dragged him toward the back of the bar where Liv and Dean sat. There was a flurry of hellos and hoots as more people from their squad joined us, and I slid into the booth, pulling Ryan in next to me.

  As the conversations spun around us, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” His breath was hot against my skin, making goose bumps pucker out all over my neck.

  I leaned into his warmth and found myself staying there, telling myself the bar was crowded and no one would notice. “He just gives me the creeps.”

  He chuckled low and nodded. “Yeah, I hear a lot of people say that.” He didn’t shift away. The side of his body was flushed up against mine in the booth, and I found myself wanting to run my hand along his arm to see how he would react.

  He’d probably jump three feet away from me.

  This is what I did all the time. I read signals wrong. It’s how I thought I had a three-month long relationship with someone who was just having a prolonged one-night stand with me.

  “So where did you grow up, Cage?” I asked, clearing my throat and scooting myself away a few inches. I didn’t want to sit and talk about creepy men or think about ex boyfriends or serious shit. I wanted to just talk about mindless stuff, have another drink, and make my escape home. Alone.

  Ryan shifted himself in the booth and moved closer, closing the small distance I had blatantly put between us. Once again, the left side of his body was crushed against mine.

  I needed a drink. Or to leave, because I was aroused so suddenly by his closeness, I actually contemplated climbing over his lap and dry humping him.

  Instead, I lunged across the table and grabbed Liv’s drink, taking a huge sip from the straw and choked back a cough. It was sweet and bitter and bright yellow. Liv shrugged and pushed the drink toward me even more. Lord, she is such a good friend.

  “Brooklyn,” Ryan answered, suddenly focused on something behind me.

  I cocked my head over my shoulder to figure out what he was concentrating on and felt him skim hot fingertips softly over the expanse of skin that peeked out between my shirt and skirt as I had bent forward.

  His touch sent a spark of electricity off between my legs, and I almost fell forward across the tabletop.

  “Nice splash pad,” he smirked, tracing my ink with the pads of his fingers.

  “Splash pad?” I asked, laughing. “My tattoo?” I pulled my shirt down and sat back against the cushion of the booth, pursing my lips. I needed to get the heck out of here before I did something stupid, like fall in love.

  “Yeah,” he smiled, flicking his fingers at it. “Sexy as hell.”

  “Why are you calling it a splash pad?”

  He winked and smirked deeper. “Think about that for a moment.”

  I’ve heard it called a tramp stamp but never a—oh, yeah I got it. God, he was so dirty. And why did it have to turn me on so much?

  “I’m going to use the restroom,” I said, thinking I needed to distance myself from him for a little bit. I liked the feeling of his fingers on my skin, and my back was tingling. I didn’t want to even acknowledge how wet my panties might have been. And I really was too messed up in the head to figure out what men wanted right now, and I…I just needed to leave.

  “No, don’t go yet,” he said, he shoved his hand deep in a pocket, pulled out his phone, and checked the time on it. “I really only came to show my face for a few minutes. I have to be somewhere in thirty minutes.”

  “Hot date?” I asked, relieved. I was right. He wasn’t really interested; he was just being flirty.

  “Why? You jealous?” he asked with a smile.

  “Not a chance,” I said, smiling back. “But I really do need to use the bathroom. I’ll see you around work,” I said, standing up.

  He poked at his phone and winked up at me, “Okay, you can walk away now.” His phone was facing me as if he were about to snap a picture of me.

  “What are you going to do with your phone?” I asked, suspiciously.

  “Recording that perfect ass walking away.” Oh, damn.

  “What? Why?” I laughed, red-faced.

  “For later. That shit’s pure porn.”

  I flipped him the finger as I walked away, but I felt the heat of his gaze on my backside and found my hips swaying a bit more than usual. I couldn’t help smiling to myself at the attention he’d given me. Maybe a few mindless nights with Ryan Cage would get me out of the rotten man funk I’d been in. I’d have to talk to Dean and see if Ryan was involved with someone or if he was single. Single meant fun, and that’s exactly what I needed after the intense relationship I had just gotten away from. The relationship that wasn’t a relationship at all. I would protect my heart though and just have fun. That’s it. Really.

  I rounded the corner into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms, and walked right into Caption Anderson.

  “Fury,” he rumbled, grabbing me softly by the arms. “You look beautiful tonight. And I’m really sorry, baby.”

  My shoulders slumped. I just wanted to get away from him and use the bathroom, but his hands felt…so warm and familiar.

  “I want you Brooke. I’m crazy about you, and I miss you so fucking much.”

  “Please, let go of me,” I whispered. My words were as weak as my resolve. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t mean to do it. Maybe he did have too much wine that night and was too stressed about work. Maybe I did deserve it; maybe I was nagging him too much.

  “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? We had a nice thing.” He licked his lips and tilted his eyes to the bathroom door and back to me quickly. “Come inside the bathroom with me. Let me show you how much I missed your pussy.”

  What a jerk.

  “How much you missed my pussy?” I hissed, stepping away from him. “That would be a ‘hell no,’ thanks anyway.”

  He stared at me stunned, and then stepped back with a snarl. “What? You fucking Cage now?”

  “No.” I ground my teeth together.

  “Well, you looked pretty comfortable together,” he snapped, leaning his face closer to mine.

  “We’re not doing anything, and it’s none of your business anyway. It’s over between us.”

  “I’m not done with you,” he ground out.

  Fear prickled along my scalp as his hands squeezed tighter around my arms. “I could make your life a living hell, Fury. I’ll hurt everyone around you. You’re brother, his squad, and your new little friend, Cage, that loud-mouthed prick.”

  “Nothing is going on between us,” I said.

  “That’s what we used to say too, remember?” He leaned in even closer and took my ear between his lips and sucked. “When I was deep inside your hot, little cunt, and you were pretending you weren’t fucking your boss every day at work.”

  “Stop,” I said, pushing my hands against his chest. His vulgarity was making me sick. My mouth flooded with saliva, and I couldn’t swallow fast enough.

  “Come on, Fury. I thought you liked the fast track I had you on to promotion.” He let go of my arms and grabbed my chin hard. “I seem to remember how much you liked it, how hard you rode it, all the while screaming my name.”

  “That’s not why I was with you—”

  “Get the fuck in the bathroom, then.” He said, shoving me through the bathroom door by my chin. “You can tell me all about it.”

  Chapter 2

  Ryan

  Shifting in my seat, I ran my fingers over my cell phone, clicking on the video for the millionth time. All I could think about was Brooke Fury. The glow of the recording lit up the small confines of the car. Hastily, I glanced out the windows, making sure no one was around. My eyes flickered back down quickly, and I pressed play.

  Her image popped up, curvy, in that tiny slip of that tight skirt. Her backside round and plump, her calves working themselves in those stilet
to heels. Dark hair cascaded down in long, silky waves. She swayed her hips for me, more than normal and when she got to the back of the bar, she looked over her shoulder toward me. Damn, her smile was deadly.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her—not since the first time I saw her in the office, running up a flight of steps with a fire in her eyes. I’d been crushing hard on her for weeks, and I couldn’t get myself to stop.

  A fist pounded on my window, practically shoving itself down my throat and yanking my heart right through my asshole. “What the hell?” I shouted, fumbling to end the video and shut off my phone.

  Outside the window, stood my brother, smiling at the roof of my car, snow settling in the messy, brown curls of his hair. He pounded on the window again.

  I shoved my phone in my coat pocket and opened the car door. “Hey, Cameron. How are you?” He was dressed for a winter storm—two layers of coats, bright red gloves, green and brown striped snow boots, and a pair of Pokémon earmuffs.

  He smiled awkwardly at the top of my head and yanked me up the walk by the scruff of my coat until we were inside the foyer of my mother’s house. “Girl,” Cameron said, tapping his index finger to my phone. It made me wonder how long he had been standing outside the car door in the snow, watching along with me.

  “Yeah, she’s just a friend,” I said, but I was hoping to change her mind.

  “Just a friend,” Cameron repeated, sliding his arms out of his coat and hanging it along the hooks in the hallway. “Take shoes off,” he continued, without hesitation.

  I tugged my own coat off, watching Cameron hang each piece of his clothing on a hook. Two coats, both gloves, the earmuffs—each piece taking up its very own hook—hanging at a precise angle. When he was finished, he stood barefoot, hair dripping with melted snowflakes spreading into a puddle on the hardwood floor. He was still smiling at the top of my head.

  “Take shoes off,” he repeated, his tone a bit higher than before.

  “I will, don’t worry,” I said, slipping my feet out of my boots.