For the past hour, Donovan had listened to the whispers, most of them talking about how Kora had been the one to cheat on Sam, pushing him into Trina’s arms with her wandering ways. Part of him had wondered why the hell she didn’t step up and tell the truth. Still, somehow he’d managed to keep his mouth shut and not interfere. As long as they weren’t spouting derogatory remarks, he felt it unnecessary to intervene. And since he’d put the old guy in his place already, Donovan figured word was out about him.
But he was still trying to figure Kora out.
Now that he’d looked into those intriguing gray eyes for himself, he understood why. She’d been labeled already, and if he had to guess, she was rebelling in her own way. No lie, that was a fucking sexy trait right there. The bad girl rebel.
Definitely a bad girl.
My thoughts instantly drifted to Presley again. Was she a bad girl?
God, I hoped one day I would get the chance to find out.
Without remorse, Donovan allowed his gaze to slide over her, slowly. When she caught him staring, he offered her a smile. And when she didn’t move away, he decided to move closer. A lot closer. So close he could smell the sweet scent of her hair and feel the warmth of her arm against his.
Before he could speak, Kora turned to face him, her face lit up, her eyes glassy. She was intoxicated; he knew that already.
Her voice was a soft murmur when she said, “If you’re gonna ask me to meet you in the bathroom in three minutes so you can blow my mind with what you’re packing”—her eyes dropped to his fly, then moved back up—“then ask already.”
Holy fucking hell. That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to say, but Donovan would have to admit he was tempted. So fucking tempted.
Was Kora bluffing? I needed to figure that one out. I liked the idea of her making the first move, and it definitely shocked Donovan. He hadn’t expected that from her. These two characters would surprise one another at every turn. At least I thought they would.
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Donovan smiled. “You think you can handle me?” Leaning in so that his mouth brushed her ear, he added, “Because what you’re asking for, Legs, will likely take awhile. Once I’m my cock is buried inside you, I get the feeling I won’t be able to stop.”
Her sharp inhale made his cock thicken, his body hardening as he waited for her to answer him.
“I think I can handle it,” she whispered, sounding more self-assured than he’d expected. “The question is … can you handle me?”
Donovan didn’t know the answer to that question, but in three minutes, he was damn sure going to find out.
Yes, Donovan was definitely going to find out, and honestly, I couldn’t wait until he did.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
I had slept for an hour and a half, but that was all I could muster. For whatever reason, I’d launched out of bed, taken a shower, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, along with shoes, and headed down to the coffee shop with my notebook and a pen.
Since a few minutes after five, I’d been sitting at a table near the window, sipping coffee and writing. For the first time in almost an entire fucking year, it seemed that the words were there. Flowing endlessly since last night. The sexy heroine was mixing it up with the bad boy hero, both of whom were ready to spontaneously combust, and I was anxious to see that happen.
“Fancy seein’ you here.”
I paused in my quest to set the scene for Kora and Donovan when I heard the familiar voice. Looking up, I saw Presley making her way through the tables with a cup of coffee and the same pink sketchbook she’d had the first time I’d seen her. Her head was still concealed, this time by an oversized black hooded sweatshirt. I had yet to see her without the hood, and I briefly wondered what she looked like without it.
Then I wondered what she looked like without clothes.
On my bed.
Beneath me.
Placing the pen on the table, I wrangled my thoughts and smiled back at her as I reached for my coffee. “Are you stalking me?”
Her grin widened, and her gleaming white smile captivated me. She was beautiful in a very sweet-meets-sexy sort of way. The tattoos, strangely colored hair, and the piercings gave her a sensual edge that I found sexy as hell.
“It’s possible,” she tossed back. “What’re you writing?”
I glanced down at the page. “Uh…”
“Your secret’s out now, Clark, I know who you are. No sense hiding that S on your chest any longer.”
I won’t lie, it stroked my ego that she’d compared me to Superman. I laughed. “Join me?”
“If, by that, you mean, feel free to have a seat at a table nearby, then sure, I’ll join you.”
I watched as Presley removed her coat, placing it over the back of her chair and revealing the black hoodie beneath. She was wearing black leggings and lace-up boots, with the oversized sweatshirt concealing what I assumed had to be some wicked-ass curves. She looked comfortable, as though she’d just tumbled out of bed and slid right into her boots—something I personally wanted to see one day.
As I sipped my coffee, I tilted my head just so and discreetly admired her very, very nice ass. Those leggings… Whoever created those was fucking brilliant.
But then she cut off my view when she sat down at the table adjacent to mine.
“Trouble sleeping?” I asked, curious as to why she was at the coffee shop so early.
“You could say that.” Presley leaned in closer. “I’ve got a roommate who likes his females loud. Makes sleeping difficult.”
“I know the feeling. I’ve got a loud one at home, too.”
A frown replaced her smile and Presley’s eyes instantly darted down to my hand. I realized she was looking for a ring. I didn’t need to say how much I liked that she did.
I held up my hand, showing her there wasn’t one. “Cat.”
“Ah. Gotcha. I’ve heard some men like loud pussy, but that’s kinda taking it to the extreme, don’t you think?”
I leaned back in my chair and regarded her momentarily. I liked her. Liked the way she said what was on her mind. She seemed to be lacking a filter, which was nice in an oddly arousing sort of way.
“It keeps the women at bay,” I told her. “When I tell ’em I’ve already got pussy at home, they tend to leave it at that.”
Presley’s throaty chuckle made the hair on my entire body stand on end. It was fucking hot, just like the rest of her.
“So, no wife?”
I smirked and noticed her cheeks turn pink. Today, Presley wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. Her skin was flawless, her lips a soft pink. She looked young. Very young.
“No wife,” I confirmed. “No mistress, no girlfriend, no booty call.”
“Ah.” Presley took a sip of her coffee, regarding me seriously. “You’re gay.”
I choked a laugh. “Not that I know of, no.”
“Hmm. So what’s a handsome, successful writer doing single?”
I glanced down at the notebook, ignoring how much I liked that she’d called me handsome. This girl was certainly good for my ego. “Writing.”
“I see that. More words than last week?”
I nodded, then glanced down at her sketchbook. “And you? What’re you working on?”
Presley placed a small hand over the sketchbook. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
We let the silence settle between us briefly, neither of us speaking, until finally her grin reappeared and she met my gaze.
“I’d ask if you come here often, but that’s a cheesy line,” Presley said, taking the lid off her coffee and blowing into the cup.
My body hardened instantly, my dick twitching to life when her pretty pink lips formed a perfect O. I noticed her tongue was pierced and my cock swelled more. I immediately looked away, pretending to be distracted by something outside. Not wanting her to know that I was suddenly imagining her lips wra
pped around my dick, her tongue doing wicked things to me.
I shook off the image, cleared my throat. “I come here often, yes. You?”
“Not much, no. But I like the coffee. And the quiet.”
I knew when to take a hint, so I nodded and raised my cup toward her in a silent salute.
Then, with a beautiful woman sitting not too far away from me, I put down my cup and picked up my pen.
Two hours and another cup of coffee later, I looked up to see that Presley was still there, still sitting at the table next to mine. She was leaning forward, sketching something in her notebook. Since her arm was in the way, I couldn’t see what she was drawing, but I decided to leave her alone, not wanting to interrupt.
Instead, I got up to stretch my legs and went back to the counter.
“It looks like you’re writing,” Kim said when I approached. “Tell me it’s true.”
“It’s true,” I confirmed.
“Your next book?”
“Maybe.”
Her smile widened. “What can I get you?”
“A large coffee and whatever she orders,” I said, nodding toward the table Presley was at.
Kim gave me a knowing grin. “One large sugar-free vanilla soy latte and a large coffee. Coming right up.”
I paid and waited for the drinks while I watched Presley. She seemed to be lost in her own world, and it gave me a chance to admire her from afar. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I knew it would be rude to interrupt, which was one of the reasons I had opted to get her coffee, hoping she could pause long enough to chat.
“Here you go,” Kim said, pushing two cups toward me. “Good luck.”
I nodded with a smile.
Luck.
With Presley, it felt as though luck was already on my side. Seriously, what were the odds that I’d see her three times in two weeks in a city the size of this one? It didn’t seem likely unless some higher power was tossing me a favor.
That and the writing. For whatever reason, since last night, the writing was back with a vengeance, and I had a feeling I could thank Presley for that.
“Brought you this,” I announced as I stepped up next to her table.
Presley sat up straight and that was when I noticed the drawing. Thankfully she took one of the cups because I would’ve dropped it as soon as my brain registered what I was seeing on her paper.
The drawing. The woman’s face. That was…
No, it couldn’t be.
I lowered myself into a chair, still admiring the sketch.
When Presley started to place her hand over it, I instantly reached for her. The moment I touched her, I felt an electrical current start in my fingers, winding through my body until it stopped somewhere dangerously close to my groin. Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I tried to see if she felt it, too.
Her eyes were locked on mine and I noticed she swallowed hard.
That electrical spark thing… I’d honestly thought it only existed in romance novels. Yeah, sue me for writing about shit I’d never experienced before. I’d really thought it was something someone had made up, but based on the tingle in my arm and the throb in my dick, I could now say it was real.
Breaking the spell between us, I released her hand and mumbled an apology before dropping my gaze back to the drawing. “This is amazing. It looks like one of my characters.”
“Jill,” Presley said softly, hitting the button on her phone and then holding it up for me to see.
I leaned in, scanning the words on the screen. “You’re reading my book.”
“Guilty,” she said.
Regaining some of my composure, I leaned back in my chair and realized I was sitting at her table, not my own. Still, I didn’t move. “What do you think?”
Presley gave me a one-shoulder shrug and the most adorable smile I’d ever seen. “It’s all right.”
“That’s exactly how I imagined her,” I told her, tapping the paper with my finger.
“I drew her based on your description. I have to say, it wasn’t hard.”
“Are you saying I’m good?” I smirked at her, loving the way she blushed slightly. It wasn’t something I would’ve expected from her considering all the badass tattoos and piercings.
“I didn’t say that,” she offered with an easy chuckle, picking up her latte and taking a sip. “I’ll have to keep reading to determine that.”
“Well, by all means.” I got to my feet and moved back to my own chair. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Presley’s eyes met mine, and it was in that moment that I realized I wanted this woman to be important, to be something more than a meaningless fling. It felt as though there was a reason she’d been put in my path, or I in hers.
Either way, I was looking forward to finding out more.
Chapter Twenty
Presley
As I walked back to my condo, clutching my sketchbook to my side, I continued to replay what had happened back at that coffee shop over and over in my head.
Not the part where I’d been transfixed by the sexy, brooding author, either.
That, I didn’t want to think about. Not yet.
No, I was more hung up on the fact that when I was around Jake, or even immersed in his stories, my muse came out in full force. I wondered whether that was because of him, or simply because I’d broken through the mental block. Strange how one seemed to coincide with the other, though.
Then again…
I frowned, thinking about my ex for the first time in… Shit. I hadn’t thought about that lying, cheating, ass-fucking bastard in at least six months, so why did the devil have to pop into my head now? Was it because when I’d been with him, as up and down as those eight months had been, I’d at least been motivated, inspired? Was that what my problem was? Did I latch on to the rock star/bad boy types because they roused my inner artist?
Oh, shit. That was just stupid.
Really. Stupid.
“Only one way to find out,” I mused aloud as I rode the elevator to my floor. “No more Jacob Wild. Easy as that.”
For some reason, I didn’t think it was going to be all that easy, but it was true, I needed to keep my distance from the man. Which was a strange thing to think about since I hadn’t intentionally run into him in the first place.
Regardless, I got the sense that Jacob Wild lived in the fabricated world of happily ever after. I, personally, knew there was no such thing. And I’d read enough about him to know that there was no happy ending where he was concerned. Not for the women he was with. He was a notorious playboy, a man who likely wouldn’t settle down any sooner than Gil or Gavin. Or my ex.
I was not interested in that type of guy. Been there, done that, had burned the T-shirt.
Nope, I would rather be alone than live in a fantasy world.
After depositing my sketchbook on the desk in my bedroom and placing my cell phone on the charger, I tugged off my boots, then crawled up in my bed, burrowing beneath the blankets.
And then slept like the dead.
Six hours later, I woke up starving. After a pit stop in my bathroom—not the community bathroom that Gil and Gavin had taken over—I made my way to the kitchen. When I was pulling my cereal bowl out of the cabinet, I heard a sound and slowly closed the cabinet door, peeking around it to see what it was.
Gavin’s door was shut, which meant he was probably asleep, and Gil should’ve been at work by then, so I’d thought I had the place to myself.
Boy, was I wrong.
The first thing I noticed was the petite brunette walking toward the kitchen. Her hair was a mess, makeup smeared, she was wearing one of Gil’s DbD T-shirts and scratching her bare leg as she moved toward me, not paying any attention whatsoever.
“Hey,” I said, a little louder than I should have, but I enjoyed the startled look I received.
“Oh, hey.” The woman turned back to look toward Gil’s bedroom, then back at me. “I … uh…”
“Is Gil still here?” I ask
ed, scowling at her as I poured cereal into my bowl.
“No, he, uh…” She looked back over her shoulder once again. “He had to go to work.”
Fucker. Why the hell Gil thought it was okay to leave his floozies in the condo when he wasn’t there was beyond me.
“And you’re here why?”
The woman looked both pissed and flustered. An odd combination that I found amusing.
“I could say the same to you,” she muttered.
“I live here,” I stated firmly, trying not to snarl at her.
“Oh.”
Oh was right. Once again, it appeared that Gil hadn’t mentioned that he had a female roommate. He tended to leave that part out for the simple fact that I was a woman and it didn’t do much for his game, I guess. Regardless … I lifted my eyebrow, waiting for the girl to respond.
“He … uh… He said I could shower.” She didn’t bother making eye contact as she pushed her long hair out of her face. “Are you his…?”
“Wife?” I tried to sound angry, but it didn’t work. “No. Roommate.”
“Oh, thank God. That would’ve been really awkward.”
And this wasn’t?
I stood at the counter, spooning cereal into my mouth while I watched her. “You should probably shower,” I suggested around a mouthful of Corn Pops. “And go.”
The woman nodded, then did a little skip toward the bathroom. I watched her, rolling my eyes. With my bowl of cereal in hand, I went back to my bedroom, grabbed my cell phone, then returned to the living room.
Setting the bowl on the coffee table, I flopped down into my chair—the one that was off-limits to everyone but me—and typed out a text to Gil.
What the hell were you thinking?
Setting the phone on my leg, I grabbed my bowl and took another bite while I waited for his response.
Shit. Sorry. She was supposed to leave.
What an asshole.
Before or after she molested Gavin?
I spooned more cereal in my mouth.
She molested Gavin? Damn, it must be good to be Gavin!
Jesus. He killed me sometimes.
Inked on Paper Page 11
