by Jamie Magee
Easton adjusted the way he was sitting on the stool. The slight movement caused his leg to brush against hers, and that one subtle movement made Georgia’s heart boom. You would have thought he had run his hands up her thigh by the way her body was reacting. Wine, she thought. Too much wine. Too crazy of a day.
“You could kill a man with that gaze of yours,” Easton said before he could stop himself.
Her stare fixed on his. “Yet here you are. I thought I saw you leave.”
A slow, sultry smile eased across his lips. God, those lips, Georgia thought.
“Just getting some air,” he said as his eyes seemed to sink into hers.
“It was pretty tight in here,” Georgia agreed. A loud rumble of laughter made her look up like a scared rabbit. Someone had just won a pool game in the back of the pub.
“You play? I can set up a game,” Easton asked, seeing a dreamy look come across Georgia’s blue eyes.
“Not tonight,” Georgia said hastily. She wasn’t ready for those boys back there to clue him in on who she was. No, she wanted him to feel like an ass when he figured it out. That was cold and she knew it, but the boy had broken her heart by not remembering her.
Before, at a distance, she might have told herself it was because her hair was different, less makeup, but up close he should know.
A vibrating sensation on Georgia’s leg made her jump and lean into Easton, which made all kinds of other things tingle.
Thinking it was Memphis checking on her, she pulled her phone out. When she saw the text, her gut plummeted—her night was only getting worse.
“Everything all right?” Easton asked, turning a bit rigid. Georgia looked like she had seen a ghost, and he wanted to kill whomever had brought that emotion to life in her.
“I’m just going to step out,” she said, flashing her pack of smokes for the day.
She rushed to the exit as if the bar were burning down and lit up two steps before she reached the door, clearly stressed as hell.
What was the universe trying to prove to her? That all men were self centered assholes? Apparently it was. First, Easton looked right through her like she was nothing more than another notch he wanted on his bed post. Then, Hunter texts, treating her like a random hookup.
She read the text again. Can’t wait to see you next week babe.
Ass. He was an ass. He thought he could treat her like some hook up? Looked on his calendar and saw he’d be in the town he left her in and was lining up the next piece of flesh he was going to have under him—more than likely while the skank he was with was lying right beside him?
She was hotboxing her cigarette while pacing in the little alley by the bar. She was thinking of all the sharp words she could throw at his worthless ass, when the next text came in. Figure we had enough time apart for you to cool down.
Fuck. You, Georgia thought.
The next text came in. Did you see us on iTunes? Real deal. Getting it together babe, like I always told you.
The last text she had gotten from this SOB was eight months ago, and she responded to his ‘what’s up babe’ with a resounding ‘Fuck you.’ To which he responded with ‘when and where lol.’ He was never going to grow up. He was probably high as hell at this very moment—if not drunk—and to be honest she wasn’t that far from the mark. Which must be why her anger was so sharp tonight.
Why did she care? Why was he even striking a nerve tonight, when he hadn’t brought forth any notable emotion in months? She glanced at the brick wall beside her and listened to the sound of the muffled music. Then stomped her foot and cursed.
It wasn’t Hunter that had pushed her over the edge tonight. It was Easton. It was the fact she felt like a fool. She was ticked that she had thought of that boy over and over, and she wasn’t even a bleep on his radar.
She had a good mind to march right back in that pub and tell him exactly who she was. To make him feel as shitty as she did right then.
***
A second or two after Georgia had left the pub, Easton noticed her tablet sitting on the bar. He pulled it closer to him just so nothing would spill on it. Then the thought crossed his mind that she was on the phone with whoever had hurt her and he couldn’t stand that, so he tore out of the bar, not knowing he’d left his own phone sitting there.
He asked a guy out front if he saw what direction she went in, knowing no one in the male population would have missed her walking by. The dude nodded to the alley off to the side.
Easton furrowed his brow, wondering what the hell she was doing back there in the first place. As he got a little closer, he thought he heard her curse. Every muscle in his body tensed, readying him for a fight; even if the guy was on the phone with her he was going to put him in his place. Words or fists, one way or another something was about to go down.
There was a little brick wall that sheltered the path so you couldn’t really see the space from the street. He stepped around it, finding Georgia pacing back and forth like she was about to murder someone. She looked him square in the eye, grabbed the tablet from him, stuffed it and her phone in her bag, then looked him over, anger engulfing her.
He’d cut her deep and he did so because he saw her raw. He saw her in pain and drew her closer. He allowed her to see his dark corners and allowed her to believe it was okay to be who she was. To hide behind whatever wall she wanted. His words calmed her and his touch vanquished the pain from her soul…then he walked away. Never bothered to glance back.
Yeah, he was older. Yeah, he was her brother’s best friend. Yeah, they both were out of sorts back then—but would it have fucking killed him to call her once in a while? Forget calling, how ‘bout remembering who the hell she was?
She felt the pain ripping her up, right alongside with the anger and wanted it to go away. She wanted the haunting memory of her father to stop hurting. She wanted the regret of Hunter washed away. She wanted the out of place, broken feeling to fade and there was only one antidote she’d ever come across. Easton.
She took one step towards, him and reached up and pulled his lips to hers.
They both breathed in on contact. Like a lover, Easton raised his hands to her face, cradling it as his lips avidly moved with hers.
She was the one that opened his mouth with the powerful wisp of her tongue. But he was the one that deepened the kiss and swallowed the moan she let out. He pulled her against his body when he felt her completely relax in his arms.
His hands slowly moved down her sides, pressing and pulling her all the closer to him. But it wasn’t close enough, so he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around him. Mercy, those stockings were going to be the death of him. He could feel her warm flesh begging to be set free from the strings that were holding it back.
He leaned her against the wall and pressed into her. His body was in control of this moment, and it was all his mind could do to catch up. His hand eased up her thigh and dove under her tight, black skirt.
To stop himself, to show some kind of restraint he squeezed her flesh. Georgia tightened her thighs around him. “Closer,” she breathed against his lips.
His long fingertips brushed against the heat of her causing a deep moan to escape as she moved against him. Begging him not to stop with every gesture that left her body. In the next second, the tips of his fingers were inside moving with her.
Georgia bit his lips as a hungry moan came from deep within. One of her hands slid down his chest, briefly fighting with his jacket. Lavender, she thought. She was sure that along with his cologne and the scent of fire, she had smelled the aroma on the lapels of his jacket.
The thought left as soon as it came, as she fought with the buttons of his shirt and moved down his tight stomach. The second her hand found his erection Easton moved his fingertips deeper inside of her. Quickly ushering her toward a high she had never felt before. It was as if every touch of his was deliberate, reading all her responses and counteracting.
Damn this boy, damn how good he was at this.
She wanted to hold on to her anger, but it left with the pain. He washed it all away once again, and without even trying he broke every defense she had down. He stripped her raw and unveiled emotions she’d never dared to feel before.
She wanted to devour him right then. Ride this wave, this awakening. Surely, tomorrow she would kill herself for being such an idiot. But right now her body was in control and her mind was too numb to care.
At first, she didn’t even hear someone yelling his name. The male voice was blending in with the music and the rumble of voices on the other side of the wall.
“Easton, my man, where are you, brother?” the voice bellowed. “Your girl is on the phone, looking for her daddy, whoop whoop.”
Easton froze. His hand between her thighs went still, as did his lips that had found their way to the base of her neck. Reality was hitting him like a tidal wave. What the hell was he doing?
Georgia arched her back, pushing him away. He let her legs down and started to explain. To ask her to give him a minute or to see if he could take her anywhere but this alley.
Throwing her up against the wall like that? What was he thinking? You don’t treat a woman like her like that, even if she started it. He wasn’t out for a one-night stand, and if she was...well, if she was he didn’t know what to think about it.
She pulled herself together in the blink of an eye, glared up at him, and said, “You were right about one thing, Easton, you’re a bad habit. But know this—I’m not anybody’s whore. You might want to get that call.”
He stood speechless for a split second. What kind of games was this girl playing with him?
He stepped out of the alley just in time to see Wyatt, and every dude outside of the pub, watching Georgia sway her hips down the street like she owned the town. Hips he could still feel in his hands. Wyatt was the only one that glanced back to see that Easton had appeared out of nowhere.
Wyatt did some quick math, then stepped forward, gripping Easton’s arm and taking him out of earshot of the others.
“Don’t start,” Easton growled.
“I’m not starting anything,” Wyatt said as his concerned eyes moved over Easton. “You all right, man?”
Easton grabbed his phone from him.
“Easton?” Wyatt demanded.
Easton met his eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“Nothing to say. She sure as hell doesn’t want anything to do with the likes of me.”
Wyatt gave Easton a once over. His hair was messed up, the buttons on his shirt were broken, and his jacket was still not sitting right on his shoulders.
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Easton let out a curse as he reached his hand for his face and let it slide down. That didn’t help matters. All it did was amplify the scent of her, make him have to tell his body over and over not to chase her.
“Are you going to talk to Memphis about this?” Wyatt asked.
“And tell him what?”
Wyatt tilted his head to the side. He didn’t know. He had no clue how to help Easton—life was too twisted now. Wyatt nodded to Easton. “Call your girl, man.”
“No, I’m out,” Easton said, walking in the opposite direction. Once he got home, he’d find a clear-cut reason to get over this deal.
Chapter Eight
Georgia was so furious that it took her a hot second to realize that instead of stomping off in the direction of Memphis’s house, she was power walking toward the house she should have never, ever, ever, ever put a bid on, much less attached a loan application to. She was too stubborn to turn around, though. She stomped her foot when she rounded the corner.
Was there not one loyal son of a bitch left on the planet? Was that such an impossibility to find? Was that some kind of girlish pipe dream? Yes, she did start it, but it’s not like he pushed her off. No. Instead, he made her head spin.
She could still feel Easton’s hands move across her, still taste his mouth. Her lips were swollen, almost felt bruised.
God help her, she wanted him, and what did that say about her? Had she crossed the line? Had she turned into a player? Turned into that bottle blonde with horrible tattoos? Was this it? What she had to look forward to? Random hook ups because there was no way you could trust a man in the first place, so there was no need in trying?
Maybe so, she decided as she finally tracked her way to Memphis’s house. She tore inside, stripping as she went back to his room. Hoping if she could not smell Easton any longer, the heat in her body would move down a notch or two. No such luck. It hurt, she decided. Her body hurt with want, and that just sucked.
She had to get her mind off it. She jerked on her PJs, grabbed her laptop, then stomped toward the front room and crashed down on the couch.
Obviously, anger spiked efficacy in Georgia. She had edited every image from that day, sent prints to a local printer, closed three projects, started two more, and almost could go a full minute without thinking about Easton when Memphis walked in looking all too satisfied. She only angled her eyes up at him and bit her lip, just so she would not take her night out on him.
He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of ice cream topped with cherries, just the way she liked it.
“You know you can’t say no,” he said with his classic smile as he fell down next to her. She didn’t bother to scoot over. Instead, she closed her computer down and stabbed the ice cream with her spoon.
Noting how tense the room felt he dared to ask, “What’s with you?”
She turned sharply to her side. “You want to tell me what the hell is wrong with men? I mean, are there no standards? Or do you just say, ‘Hey, that looks like a fun orgasm,’ and sink right in—then have the nerve to act like it’s not your fault? What exactly goes on in y’all’s heads in the first place—and I’m talking about the one on your shoulders, the one that you should try to think with once in a while.”
“Whoa,” Memphis said, raising his brow. “All you had to say was, ‘No, Memphis, don’t take her home.’”
“I don’t care who you crawl into the bed with, but at the same time that is my point. I’m your freaking sister, and you have never even mentioned that girl to me.”
He popped his brow up. “I haven’t mentioned her because I’m not sure how serious we are.”
“But you fuck her? Did it ever cross your mind that component might make sense with that act?”
“Ah, come on, like you have loved everyone you’ve hooked up with.”
“Not my point, and you shouldn’t be wasting your time with a girl if you don’t mean it. Because either you are going to hurt her or worse, you won’t, and that means she was using you just as much as you were using her. You’re too good for a girl like that.”
Georgia moved her head to the side, closed her eyes, and mouthed sorry.
“Look, Georgia, I work constantly and nobody wants to deal with my schedule. Ashley…she’s in the same field. We’re just hanging out right now.”
“This isn’t about her or you. It’s about—just never mind.”
Memphis was a pretty smart guy. He may fumble every once in a while, but things were starting to click in his head. “What happened after I left the pub?”
When Georgia didn’t say anything, when her wide gaze told him he’d hit the nail on the head and something did go down tonight, he reached for his phone. He was going to call every one of his boys and get to the bottom of this.
Georgia dove across him, stealing his phone and shoving it down her shirt. Knowing he wouldn’t go after it. Now, he might hold her upside down by her ankles and shake it out, but at least that would buy her a few seconds to figure out how to save Easton’s life. Because God help her, she knew deep down she started this. She was just as much, if not more so, to blame. The only thing she could be mad at him for was not stopping them. Oh yeah, and forgetting her in the first place.
“What the hell?” Memphis said with raised hands.
“I’m a grown woman, and you need
to figure that out. Nothing happened tonight, and if something had happened it would have been by my choice. Because that is my right. Just like you and everyone else had the right to go home with whomever tonight.”
“A grown woman living in a stay-by-the-week hotel who has thousands of online friends, and the only fleshy ones to your name are me and an old man that’s substituting the role of dad for you.”
She punched him just because it was true.
“I can live where I want. Did it ever occur to you that I’m saving up?”
“Why would you need to save any money? Did Hunter blow through Dad’s money? Are you keeping that from me?”
Hunter didn’t, but she was about to. That is if she signed off on that house. “No. I have contacts up there. It’s for work.”
“Then get an address. Set up something solid instead of sitting in the same bar that son of a bitch left you in. For the life of me, I can’t figure out where your head is. What is so wrong with Willowhaven?”
She almost spilled it about the house, but instead she glanced away.
“You don’t want to live here? Fine. Live somewhere else, but build some kind of life. Wake up and live before you figure out the jig is up and you’re some old lady curling up with a laptop every night.”
She had to get off this subject pronto. She hugged her laptop to her chest, and said, “But it’s so warm and smooth, and it can take me anywhere in a split second.”
It took Memphis a second to crack a smile because he knew what she was doing. But when she started to sway her hand across her laptop case and even kissed it, he let out a deep laugh.
“What brought this up, for real?” he asked when the mood had shifted.
She shrugged.
“You said you were over him.” It was the speech about cheating guys that made him assume this was all about Hunter.
“I am.”
“I’m not getting it,” Memphis said as his dark eyes searched over her.
