by Nola Marie
“Just having some fun,” he says with a shrug, but I’ve seen that look too many times. That is not the look of someone having fun.
“Rory know?” I ask with a raised brow as I flag over a waitress.
“There’s nothing to know,” he declares but I can see the nervousness written all over his face. He doesn’t want Rory to know because he knows he might just lose his crap.
I just nod in understanding, but the truth is I don’t. I know Rory and Bastian are the bosses of River City, but I’ve never understood why everyone fears them. I guess it is more difficult for me to understand the concept when I’ve never met anyone that I’m afraid of.
I shift in my chair a few times. The restless energy I’m feeling only being exacerbated by the thump of the music and the energy of those around me. “Maybe you just need to get laid,” Christian says with a grin.
I laugh because he’s probably fucking right. I haven’t gotten that kind of release since Zoey and Jax’s wedding. And to be honest, it was mediocre at best. The girl had a rockin’ body and all, but she had no idea what she was doing. Kind of a waste but girls like her usually are. They try to get by on their looks alone.
A waitress finally comes over with my drink, and I throw it back in one gulp then request another. “I probably do need to get laid,” I admit. “I just haven’t had time to really look. Too much other bullshit going on.”
“Zane Valen doesn’t have a girl on speed dial for this type of problem?” he asks as he arches a brow in surprise.
“Fuck that,” I laugh. “Remember who you’re talking to. Put out and get out. I try not to do the whole repeat performance thing. That’s how you get stalkers.”
Hunter saunters up about that time looking sexy as hell in a white mini dress that makes her tan skin glow. I flash her my signature smile, and she gives a little giggle. “Oh no,” Christian says with a chuckle, “none of that panty dropping smile.”
Hunter begins to flush at his comment as my smile spreads. “Afraid of a little competition?” I say as I look to Hunter with a wink.
“You don’t play fair,” his grin turns to a scowls. “Not everyone can make women melt with nothing but a smile.”
Hunter looks me over appreciatively. “It’s not the smile, babe,” she tells him teasingly. “It’s just him. He just – he's magnetic.” Christian’s entire posture stiffens. His scowl deepens. The waitress come back with my next drink.
“Don’t worry, Chris. I’m not in the habit of taking other people’s girls unless they deserve it.”
But for someone who was just telling me a few seconds ago how they were just having fun, he is awfully possessive of her. Hunter looks down at him in confusion and surprise at his reaction.
“Excuse me,” I hear a sexy voice say from behind me. I turn to the chair to see long as fuck legs making a path up to a very hot body that leads up to full lips, wide, chocolate bedroom eyes, and long blond hair. My alcohol hazed eyes see the girl I haven’t stopped thinking about for months. “I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”
Christian smirks with a raised brow. “Love to, Darlin’,” I answer as I throw back the rest of what I think is my sixth drink.
With my hand pressed to her lower back, I guide her to the stairs that lead up to the dancefloor. I watch her ass the entire way loving the view. We make our way through the crowd and begin to dance. I run my hands up her body, press my nose and mouth against the curve of her neck while we move with her back to my front.
But nothing I’m seeing is the girl with me. It’s the girl who’s over two thousand miles away. Somewhere in the back of my Jack Daniels induced haze, I know this isn’t Tori. But fuck she’s all I see. That damn girl haunts me everywhere I go.
I contain a low groan in my throat as I begin to picture Tori in all her fucking glory being the one moving her hips against my dick. I imagine that sultry voice she has moaning my name. I picture those come-hither eyes of her dilating with the lust she has for me.
After several dances and a lot of sexual tension building, I find myself in a dark corner in the back of the club. The girl’s hands are all over me. Our lips crash with a vengeance. Images of Tori continue to flash in my mind. The alcohol in my veins makes it impossible to see anything other than Tori’s face. To picture her hands sliding over my body, gripping me closer to her.
“Fuck, Tori,” I groan.
“Melissa,” she says with a moan, making me pull away. I look at her, still only seeing Tori’s face. Not understanding why the fuck she just said that. She sees the confusion in my eyes. “My name. It’s Melissa. Not Tori.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand what she’s saying. That she is not the girl I’m seeing. But all I see is Tori. The girl with the tattoos and fire and has put me on my ass twice now.
Ring. Pound, pound. Ring.
The sound jolts me up in my bed. I grip my head to quiet the jackhammer living there.
Ring. Pound, pound, pound. Ring.
“Goddammit, I’m coming,” I grumble as I fight to stand against the spinning.
Memories of last night come to me in flashes. A lot of alcohol. Some girl I thought was Tori, and-.
Fuck. I walked away.
That’s never happened before.
I stumble out of the bed naked as the day I entered this world to the front door. I don’t give a fuck who’s there. If they don’t want to see, then they shouldn’t have come.
I swing the door open to find Jax standing in front of me. Of course, it’s Jax. He takes me in with a smirk as he walks past me. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says loudly like the fucker he is. “Fun night?”
“Something like that,” I grunt through the pounding in my head I grab a pair of shorts slung over the back of a chair in the living room and pull them on. “What are you doing here?”
He barks out a laugh that makes me wince at the pain in my head. “You really tied one on last night didn’t ya? How much did you drink?”
I think. The number five pops in my head but I must’ve miscounted along the way because there is no fucking way that five mixed drinks got me that wasted. “More than I thought I did,” I admit.
He leans back against my counter while I make my way to the fridge for a bottle of water. Hydration is what I need. His lips curl on one side in amusement as his eyebrows do that weird thing they do when he’s being an asshole. “Anything interesting happen last night?”
“Not a damn thing,” I tell him as I chug the water down.
His smug grin grows as if he knows something I don’t, but just stands there without a word. I fucking hate when he does that. He needs to just spit it out already because this hangover is not making me my usual cheerful self.
His eyebrows keep doing that weird ass thing where they are almost pointy. He keeps smirking. But he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps fucking smirking.
“WHAT DAMMIT?” I finally yell as my patience reaches its limits. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KEEP SMIRKING AT?”
He throws his cocky fucking head back in full laughter. I don’t think I ever realized Jax had so many goddamn teeth. His damn mouth is wide open as he cackles like a fucking hyena.
“Heard from a little birdie that somebody actually walked away from a very willing woman last night.”
“That’s why you have that fucking smirk,” I snap. “So, the fuck what if I walked away? I wasn’t feeling it.”
“Or maybe someone’s twin got in their head a little? Or – wait – maybe I was right months ago when I told you that you were fucked.”
“Who the fuck told you -,” I stop abruptly as I realize exactly where he heard the information. I mutter a curse under my breath with a chuckle. “Hunter told Layla. Layla told Rory. Rory told you.”
He picks up an apple off the granite island and begins tossing it in the air. He shifts to lean his hip as he takes a bite out of the apple. It’s moments like this I wonder and understand at the same time how he and I have been best friends f
or nearly sixteen years. He speaks little and I can’t seem to stop sometimes. I portray myself as the laidback, easy-going goof while he seems stony, hard, and brooding. The truth is we’re none of those things and all of those things and more.
That’s why he knows he is making me nuts just standing like that with a stupid smirk that won’t go away.
“While Rory was filling you in on the gossip of my life, did he mention who Hunter was with?” I ask throwing it out there. Stirring the pot even as I know the answer and know that it won’t go further than Jax.
But the little jab does want I want. He’s leaning over the counter with eyebrows raised wanting to know the juice. He wants to know something his brother doesn’t because Rory sometimes seems a lot like God (even if only in his own damn head) all seeing and all knowing.
“Spill it,” he tells me. “Why would Rory be concerned with who Hunter was at the club with?”
“Christian seemed to be enjoying himself last night,” I quip as I finally raise the water bottle to my lips. One sip and I feel like I’m having the first drink of my life.
“That motherfucker,” he laughs. “Rory is going to kill him then Layla will kill Rory.”
I smirk then grab another bottle of water. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I reiterate. How fucking drunk did you get? We have a flight in two hours. Remember?”
My mind starts trying to swim back up through the alcohol to remember why the fuck I have a flight today. Then it slams me. Every inch of me vibrates as my head clears of the alcohol like I’ve had ten gallons of coffee.
“New York,” I say with a grin spreading over my face.
“Slow down, lover boy,” he taunts. “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from her for six months? It’s barely been six weeks.”
“Fuck,” I hiss dragging my hand through my shaggy hair.
“Maybe you should get that shit cut,” he points at my hair.
I scrub my fingers through my hair with a grin. “Nah. I think I’ll keep it like this.”
“Chop, chop, sucker. Plane takes off in two hours.”
I throw him the finger as I make my way across my carpeted floor – yes carpet because I like my feet to be soft and comfy after wearing cleats most days. “Be ready in half an hour.”
“Nick is going to be pissed if I have to tell him to push the flight back a few minutes,” he yells up the stairs to me.
“You won’t.”
I jump in the shower and in ten minutes I’m out. I brush my teeth and trim my face before walking into the closet to put on the damn suit I have to wear because we will have our first meeting as soon as we get off the plane. I hate fucking suits. If I were the type of guy who noticed what other guys were wearing, I probably would’ve connected the dots on what today was a lot faster. I make sure to grab another for tomorrow too, and then throw a few jeans and t-shirts into a duffle bag. I make sure to pack my phone, laptop, and chargers for both then my wallet.
“Twenty minutes, bitch,” I boast as I head back down the stairs, but he’s not listening to me. He’s looking at something on his phone, and instead of the smug smirk he had earlier, he’s got this weird, goofy, glassy-eyed grin on his face. I get close to him and try to peak over the top of the phone to see what has put that sappy ass smile on his face while praying that it’s not a naked picture of my sister. I don’t see much apart from some kind a black and white blur before he puts it away quickly. “We picking Zoey up on the way?”
That goofy smile fades away when he looks at me. I already know what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “She decided she doesn’t want to go to New York.”
I nod in understanding. “I didn’t understand why she said she wanted to go in the first place.”
“She thought she could handle it,” he tells me, “but she woke up this morning having a panic attack. The last thing she needs right now is extra stress.”
I narrow my eyes at him in question. “Why is extra stress a big deal now?”
“No reason,” he says a little too quickly. “Come on so we don’t piss Nick off.”
Three hours on a plane. Four hours in a meeting that’s completely redundant and could’ve been handled by our agent and lawyer. Twelve hours shooting a commercial for the shoe endorsement.
I lay in the bed of the hotel suite staring at the ceiling thinking about the next two days of more meetings that Jax and I will probably sleep through. Two more commercials to shoot.
But one person keeps floating through my mind.
Floating? Who the hell am I kidding? She has consumed every inch of my thoughts for months now. Whether it’s thoughts of that insane body, that gorgeous damn smile, or those fuck me now big brown eyes she’s there. Whether I am remembering the kisses we’ve shared or picturing that body beneath mine, she’s there. Even when I was ignoring her like a damn idiot, she was there.
Why the hell did I say six months? I have no idea what the fuck I was thinking. I keep wondering if Zoey was right. Could she really find someone else and forget about me? I’ve never in my life doubted my ability to leave a very long-lasting impression on a girl but suddenly I’m worried and that’s not sitting well with me.
This isn’t me. I don’t worry whether I can have a woman. I don't chase girls that tell me no. I don't obsess like a fucking creeper. But that's all I've done since that night in the bar.
I grab my phone to call Christian. He picks up on the second ring with a huff. “What?”
I snicker at his frustration as a female voice rises in the background. “Need you to get me an address,” I tell him.
“For whom?”
“Tori Reese.”
“Why the hell does everyone have me checking on women all of a sudden?” he grumbles lowly.
“Who else has you checking?” I ask. My curiosity piqued because, let’s face it, I love other people’s drama. I find it entertaining.
“None of your business, fucker,” he hisses. “Why should I find this girl’s address for you?”
“Because if you do, I’ll be sure not to let Rory and Layla know where you’ve been poking around lately.”
“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?” he counters, but he doesn’t realize the slight change in his tone tells me the answer. I stay silent and let him grow his worries until he relents. And he does, of course.
“Thanks. One more thing?”
“What do you want, asshole?”
“Who else is asking you about a girl?” I can practically hear the grin on his face. “Bastian.”
I let out a low whistle as that bit of information absorbs. “Fuck me. Has hell frozen over?”
“Probably, and we’re all heading there. I’ll send you what I find.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. As I lay back on the bed. It doesn’t take him long to get me what I need, and almost as soon as the address is on my phone, I’m out the door.
Twenty-five minutes later, I am standing outside her apartment door with, what I know, is a fucking dumbass grin on my face. I tap my knuckles on the door a couple of times then stand off to the side so she can’t see me through her peep hole.
Then she opens the door, and damn if she’s not the sexiest thing alive. Tiny tight shorts and some kind of off the shoulder t-shirt is all she’s wearing with that nearly white hair hanging down to her ass. The look of shock on her face when she sees me is priceless. “Zane, what are you doing here?”
I flash her what Christian referred to as my panty melting smile while hoping her clothes melt off and I can see what’s hiding behind the clothes. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“In the neighborhood?” she asks doubtfully as her eyebrows draw down into a disbelieving V. “You expect me to believe you were in the neighborhood when you live two-thousand miles away?” I only offer a shrug in response. “Zane, I told you last time that there is no point to this.”
“Have you stopped thinking of me yet?”
“You haven’t cross
ed my mind once,” she tells me with a raised chin, but I can see the lie in her eyes that makes me smirk.
“Not once, huh?” I ask as I step into her space.
She holds her ground. Stands a little straighter. Holds her head a little higher. Keeps her eyes on mine. Except I see the flutter of her pulse in her neck. “Nope.”
Then her eyes drop to my mouth where my tongue slips out subtly to lick my lips.
Gotcha.
“Well, that’s a shame because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” I step in a bit more until there not more than a few inches of space between us. I see the breath she sucks in. I notice the heave of her chest and the way her hands twitch slightly like she can’t decide if she wants to push me away or pull me to her. I lean into her until my lips are millimeters from her ear. “Haven’t. Stopped. Once.”
I watch as goosebumps rise on her shoulders. I notice the way she sways slightly. But she’s trying to stand firm. “Well, you did say six months.”
“Fuck that,” I spit out. “I needed to see you now. Go out with me.” She begins to shake her head. “I won’t take no for an answer, Tori. I’ll stay here all night until you agree.”
“Zane, I – I just don’t understand the point,” she says but the way she starts nibbling on her bottom lip lets me know that she’s about to cave.
“I’m asking you to go out with me, Tori. Not get married. Go out with me.”
I move a little more in her space. Close enough that she can feel the heat off my body, but not so close that we’re touching. Close enough that I can see the split-second moment that she tries to lean into me, but not close enough that she does little more than brush her clothes against mine.
And I see it. The moment that she can’t deny what she’s feeling. The moment that her no becomes a yes. I don’t give her a chance to say it. “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow at six.”
And I turn away. Walk off without a look back. Without a chance for her to second guess what just happen.
Tori
