Kiss Me Back is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Loveswept Ebook Original
Copyright © 2018 by Jeanette Escudero
Excerpt from What About Us by Sidney Halston copyright © 2018 by Jeanette Escudero
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book What About Us by Sidney Halston. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
Ebook ISBN 9780399593918
Cover design: Ellen Carey
Cover photographs: Svyatoslava Vladzimirska/Shutterstock (couple), fotomak/Shutterstock (background)
randomhousebooks.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Dedication
Acknowledgments
By Sidney Halston
About the Author
Excerpt from What About Us
Silence is always better than meaningless words.
Prologue
I’m sweaty and full of grease, but damn I love getting shit done.
“What are you doing here so early?” my boss Matt asks as I enter the club.
“Oh, you stink,” April, Matt’s girlfriend, says with a scrunched up nose. I know she’s just teasing because she kisses my cheek as she walks past me.
“Fixing one of the cameras,” I answer distractedly, my head down as I adjust the camera-feed controls on my phone.
“You don’t need to be climbing up ladders to check on the cameras. We have people to do that.”
“Done!” I cry out triumphantly and turn the phone around to show him. “It’s fine. I fixed it. It was driving me crazy.”
“That shit hasn’t worked in months,” Matt says, looking impressed.
“I know. Came in early and took care of it. Hope you don’t mind if I grab a shower before my shift.” I brought my suit with me since I wasn’t going to climb up a ladder and work on a camera in Armani.
“Yeah. Go ahead upstairs to the bathroom in my office. I’m waiting on a new bartender.”
I grab my garment bag, and as I head up, Nick, Matt’s twin brother and my other boss, is coming down. “You’re early,” he notes.
I shrug. “Had some things to fix.”
“Glad to see someone working around here,” he retorts, eyeing his brother as he continues downstairs. Matt gives him the finger from over his shoulder and I chuckle.
Once I’m done showering and getting dressed, I head back down. It’s still early but I like to make sure everything is set for the evening. Panic is a busy club, and security is a priority.
I’m looking down and adjusting my tie, which is why I don’t notice the petite woman I slam right into as I round the corner to the main part of the club. “Whoa!” I grab her shoulders as she reaches up and clutches my forearms to steady herself.
“Sorry. Sorry,” she says loudly.
Once I’m sure she’s not going to fall, I shift back a bit. She is much shorter than I am—I realize it was her head that just smashed into my arm. “Are you okay?”
She rubs her nose and forehead. “Yes.”
“Well, I see you met our new bartender,” Matt teases as he and Nick walk over to us shaking their heads. “Are you okay?” Nick asks but she’s busy looking down and straightening her purse and doesn’t reply. She slowly looks up and my breath catches when our eyes meet. She has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Big and round and they’re just staring at me. No, not at me, at my mouth.
For a moment I’m struck stupid. Her eyes linger for a few moments before I hear Nick repeat, “Are you okay?”
Shaking my head clear of all the inappropriate thoughts reeling through my mind, I look over her shoulder, prompting her to turn around. “Lola? Are you hurt?” Nick asks again.
“Uh. No. I’m fine. I didn’t see him coming.” This time her voice is soft and low.
Reassured, Nick turns to me. “William Fox, meet our newest bartender, Lola Daye. Lola, this is probably not the best way to meet the bouncer of the club but I promise he normally doesn’t go around bumping into things.”
She smiles and turns to shake my hand.
“I’m sorry about that. Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” Her hand is small and soft against my big rough one, and she’s looking up at me again. “It’s nice to meet you, William.”
“Fox,” I correct her. “Everyone calls me Fox.”
She smiles—she still hasn’t let go of my hand. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Looking forward to it, Lola.”
But it’s as if we’re suspended in time. Her big, expressive eyes are on mine, and there’s a bit of pink on her cheeks.
Nick clears his throat from somewhere behind me but in that moment, there’s just me and this gorgeous woman.
“Lola,” I whisper.
Her lips part a little. “Yes?” she replies, sounding breathless or as if answering a question I haven’t even asked her.
“I’m going to need my hand back,” I say, although I don’t want to let go and if I’m reading her correctly, she doesn’t either.
Her eyes widen, and she looks at where our hands are connected and quickly pulls hers away. “Oh…sorry. Sorry,” she sputters, then turns and walks swiftly out of the club.
It takes everything I have to let her go, even knowing I’ll see her tomorrow.
But right before the front door of the club closes behind her, she looks over her shoulder. Our eyes meet again briefly, and she seems as staggered at our instant connection as I am.
Chapter 1
SIX MONTHS LATER….
Lola
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and without having to turn around I know William Fox is close by.
When I got the job at Panic, I was happier than I’d been in years. Knowing how packed the club gets and the prices of the drinks, I knew my tips would double my income. But then I crashed into Fox. Literally. And that feeling of happiness changed into something I hadn’t felt in years.
Yearning.
For a long time my existence has consisted of work, sleep, eat—rinse and repeat. I’ve been so focused on survival, I’ve pushed all my needs and wants aside for so long that I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed having a connection with a man. And, the connection I had with Fox was serendipitous. It was immediate, intense, and electric. I’m not talking love at first sight. No, I’m talking lust and hunger, and a desire to pull that thick beard toward me and kiss him with reckless abandon.
Sometimes I think I can fee
l his deep, gravelly voice when he’s near or maybe I can just sense he’s in the room by the way women turn their heads and stare.
Even after half a year of knowing the man, I still don’t really know much about him except that people seem to gravitate toward him. He’s charismatic and funny and talks a lot. I also know he’s confident and a little bit arrogant, and there’s an air to him that screams money and power.
From the moment he crashed into me, I’ve known we’re as different as two people can be. From his designer suits to the way he styles his hair; the man is obviously well-off. He always smells of that men’s cologne, the expensive one that they give samples of at the mall. I don’t know how much a bouncer at a nightclub can possibly make, but Fox has it in spades.
And because life isn’t fair, God has been abundantly kind to the man by not only blessing him with wealth and charisma, he also has sex appeal the likes of which I’ve never experienced, which is why every time he walks by, I want to jump him like a cat in heat.
So, naturally, I avoid him. And have since the day I crashed into him.
I ignore the little pinpricks on the back of my neck and refuse to look back at him.
My palms sweat and my heart starts to beat faster every time he’s near. On a normal day, I’m awkward, but when he’s around I’m just…weird. I mean, the man had to ask me for his hand back when we first met. I was mortified.
I see the way other women look at Fox; the smiles that spread across their faces when he lets them into the club. As if he’s Saint Peter standing in front of the pearly gates. Except club Panic isn’t heaven and Fox is no saint.
Fox…the name suits him. His hair—more salt than pepper—makes him look like a silver fox. As does his sly smile—the one where the corners of his lips stretch to make a perfect half-moon that ends high up on his face, forming little crinkles at the edges, like the Joker. His beard, full but manicured to perfection. It’s like he knows the effect his smile has on the opposite sex, so he makes sure that his lips are the focal point, the beard just an adornment to draw attention to his mouth. And he’s smooth. So smooth, he’ll swallow you up, then spit you out, and you’ll let him because he looks like the kind of guy who’ll show you the best time. Tell you all the right things. Show you all of life’s decadent luxuries. I can tell all of this just from that devilish smile. Because it’s not just a smile. It’s slow-forming, it’s devilish, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in the most alluring way.
Which is why I avoid him.
I’ve been hurt before, by a guy less intense than Fox. A guy who wasn’t worth one single tear, yet I foolishly shed many tears over that jerk. I lost Gus at the same time I lost a part of myself—literally. And then I vowed never to open my heart again. So I’ve focused all my energy during the last seven years on my goals—and Fox is the antithesis of my goals.
I’ve had enough crap in my life, thank you very much. I don’t need Fox putting me through the wringer. So, I keep my head down and work but that doesn’t mean I don’t see everything.
And one thing I can’t ignore is how he is always just…there. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for the last six months, and I keep rejecting him. He’s not a creep about it, but I’m starting to think that my rejections are just fueling him on.
I’ve become that one thing he can’t seem to catch.
From the corner of my eyes, I catch him stepping out of his flashy car, a dark gray Armani suit stretched tightly around his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound muscled frame. I hope he hasn’t seen me but I can’t tell with those dark sunglasses over his eyes. I shuffle faster into Panic so I can disappear inside the dark crowd of the nightclub.
Fox
I step out of my new yellow Corvette and pat down the front of my suit jacket to check for wrinkles or lint. It’s hot and humid outside, like every Miami Beach night, and I can feel my crisp black shirt start to stick to me almost immediately. As one of the bouncers at club Panic, I can’t look anything but pristine, and sweat doesn’t say “pristine.” It says “messy and inferior,” and we’re trying to sell an image here. Luxury, superiority, exclusivity, and yes, pretentiousness, and I’m the first face people see when they arrive.
As I walk around the building, I spot the woman who’s been driving me crazy ever since she started working here, and I can’t help but stare at her. I don’t know what it is about her that I find so damn irresistible. She’s not particularly tall or curvaceous. She doesn’t dress scantily or flirt with me. Yet, I’ve never been more drawn to a woman before in my life, nor can I remember the last time I found a woman as attractive as I find her. If I didn’t catch the way she stares at me when she thinks I’m not looking, or the way her eyes wander to the front of the club where I’m normally stationed, I would think she found me repulsive.
I don’t know what kind of game she’s playing, but I’m into it.
I have to go through security footage often, and I’ve caught her biting her lip unconsciously when she looks at me, or her eyes searching me out in the room. Yet, she avoids me when I’m near her and it’s damn infuriating. I’m not used to this hot and cold treatment from a woman, and I don’t know how long I’m willing to put up with it.
She’s a few feet ahead of me, a big colorful bag crossing her torso. She’s wearing a black tank top with black jeans that end right by her ankles and boots. The uniform requirement for the bartenders at Panic is just to dress in black. And she does. But she always has something colorful on, I’ve noticed. Either in her hair or her jewelry or her bag. She walks in confident strides with her lean legs and perky ass swaying with every step. If she turned around I know exactly what I’d see. Pale skin, blue eyes, long dark lashes, and red lipstick. There’s something almost innocent looking about her, even with the bold lipstick choice. Maybe it’s the paleness combined with the dark features. Whatever it is, she is fucking stunning. And I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since I met her.
I have no idea why I have such a visceral reaction to this woman, this woman who tries very hard to ignore me.
“Hey, Fox.” Helen, another bartender, stops me just as I’m about to walk inside. It pisses me off, but I don’t let it show. I wanted to try to catch up to Lola but Helen’s cockblocking me from my goal. “Looks like it’s going to be a busy night, huh?”
I glance at the line that’s already forming around the corner. “Always is,” I answer distractedly.
“Maybe we can take a shot later?” She flirts with a wink.
“Yeah, maybe,” I respond distractedly.
She turns and saunters away and I hurry toward Lola, who’s walking briskly to the “red” bar on the left side of the club. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was running away from me. Why else would she be walking that fast? It’s not like she’s late to work or anything.
Lola
I move briskly, hoping that I can avoid him because I don’t know how much longer I can turn him down. Part of the reason he’s wearing me down is that he isn’t vulgar or pushy in his pursuit of me, he’s persistent yet careful, as if he understands I’m skittish and he needs to proceed with caution.
How I wish he was creepy.
How I wish he was a jerk.
Jerks, men who want hassle-free sex, douchebags, those I can handle. Those are the ones that have turned me so skittish toward the rest of the male population. Sweet men, well, that’s something I’m unaccustomed to. Slowly, he’s chipping away at my set notions that all men are assholes. But for the safety of my heart and my independence, I need to believe that men are assholes.
As I reach to open the top of the bar, I’m momentarily startled when I feel a solid wall of male press against my body and reach an arm around to hold it up for me. I can feel his breath behind me and it stirs something inside me. I know it’s Fox and not just from the clunky silver rings a
nd tattoos on his fingers gripping the top or the pricey cologne he wears, but by his wide consuming presence. By far, he is the biggest man I’ve ever met. He fits the definition of a bouncer, from his large frame to his intimidating smile.
And, God, how I hate to admit that I want him pressed close to me. I want his face nuzzled in my hair and his fingers digging into my skin.
I remove my earbuds and with a palm over my heart, I turn around to face him. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. I called out for you.”
“Oh…uh…didn’t hear you.” I hold out my earbuds.
He has a smile on his face and his features are soft and relaxed. “You’re avoiding me?”
I swallow. “No.” I shake my head.
“I should move back. You look scared. Do I scare you, Lola?”
Yes! I almost yell. “No,” I whisper instead. He scares me but not physically. I’m afraid I’m going to throw everything away just to finally say yes to this man and succumb to the lust I feel every time he’s around.
But nonetheless he takes a half step back, giving me some space. “Grab coffee with me after work?”
“I’m off at four,” I answer and immediately realize this is the first time I don’t say no outright.
“Yeah, I know. I’m off at five, but I can get someone to cover for me if you say yes. Say yes, Lola.” I don’t answer. I have to think. Maybe I can just get coffee. What’s the big deal?
“You know if you keep rejecting me, I’m going to stop asking,” he adds.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” I say as I stare at his mouth, his gorgeous mouth with the sexy smile. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, I’m so distracted.
His smile widens and I know that he knows that I’m full of shit. “Or, maybe I should be even more persistent? Maybe we’ll have to have drinks right here.” He pats the bar top. “I’ll woo you in front of the entire staff if that’s what it takes.”
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