Flow (The Beat and the Pulse #6)

by Amity Cross

  “How do you know?” I asked, stepping inside.

  She slammed the door and looked me up and down. “Honey, you all know it. Men don’t play coy and clueless.”

  I tried to picture Bel at The Underground and wondered if the fighters there would eat her alive, but in the end, I began to realize she would be the one doing the eating.

  “Hey!”

  I glanced up as Lori appeared at the other end of the dark hallway. Stepping past Bel, I strode toward the little piece of blue heaven that stood in the warm lighting of the lounge room beyond.

  I could hear Bel grumbling behind me, but I didn’t give a fuck what she was sooking about. Women like her always had their pride hurt when they couldn’t reel in the guy they were flirting with. I could have her, she’d made that clear, but I couldn’t do that to Lori. Anyway, Bel wasn’t my type. I’d snap her in half.

  “Long day?” Lori asked, tilting her head to the side.

  I put the food onto the coffee table where cutlery and drinks were already waiting. “Does it show that much?”

  “You look a little wired.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk,” I said, sinking down onto the couch.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  I shook my head. If I talked about it, she’d get on my case about a million things I knew I was deliberately ignoring at my own peril, and then we’d argue again, and that’s not what I wanted tonight or pretty much ever with her. I was a classic ‘argue and fuck’ kind of guy. I got heated and passionate during verbal slanging matches with beautiful women I was attracted to, and it always led to being hard and naked.

  I didn’t like the idea of fighting with Lori Walker.

  She sat next to me on the couch, hooking her legs over my lap. “You know I’m always here if you need to.”

  “Yeah.” I stared at her legs, which were wrapped up in pajama pants printed with Marvel superhero comic strips, and tried to pinpoint the moment we’d become familiar enough to touch like this. I couldn’t, but I liked that we could without it meaning more than it should…even though I felt things were beginning to change.

  “Food’s getting cold,” I muttered.

  “We’ve got a microwave.”

  “Lori.”

  “You keep questioning me about the asshole who shall not be named,” she complained.

  “So I’m a hypocrite now?”

  Her lips quirked as she stifled the urge to smile. “Pretty much.”

  Rubbing my hand over her knee, I said, “Takes one to know one.”

  The gesture was meant to be casual, but her expression dropped like I’d pushed a little too far. If it were a perfect world, I would’ve pushed a lot further. Her leg was warm, her breast had been pressing against my bicep, and of course, I’d thought about touching a little closer to the sweet spot. Her superhero pajama bottoms didn’t turn me off in the slightest.

  “Lori, I’m going!”

  Bel’s voice tore us apart, and Lori pulled her legs back, severing our connection.

  “Okay!” she yelled back. “Be safe!”

  The door slammed, and suddenly, we were alone. The room began to feel really small, the air heavy with all the blurry line shit going on. Like she was trying to busy herself with something else, Lori began pulling the takeout containers from the plastic bag.

  I’d stopped at her favorite Chinese takeout on the way over and got all the things she liked the most. Fried rice, combination noodles, prawn crackers…and for me, steamed vegetables and chicken because I couldn’t afford to drink beer and eat fatty food three nights a week.

  Picking up my dinner, she handed it to me. “This one’s yours. Bland and unappetizing.”

  Relieved the air had cleared a fraction, I said, “You don’t get a body like this by just liftin’ weights.”

  She eyed me and said, “I bet you don’t.”

  “You picturin’ it?”

  Stifling a smile, she rolled her pretty eyes. “You wish.”

  We ate in silence for a while, the whoosh of cars flying past outside echoing through the little house. Setting down my container, I watched her eat and wrinkled my nose.

  “You eat like a man,” I declared.

  “Am I meant to be offended by that?” she asked, a noodle stuck to her bottom lip.

  “Depends on how delicate you are.” Reaching over, I wiped my thumb across her lip, dislodging the noodle. Of course, I began thinking about her mouth and what I could do to it. Her eyes widened slightly as I let my touch linger a little longer than was appropriate, and my gaze dropped.

  She cleared her throat abruptly and pulled away, placing the takeout box onto the coffee table.

  “So you’ve never told me when you moved to Australia,” she began. “Why would you want to live here when Ireland is so pretty?”

  The temperature in my groin began to cool at the change of subject, and I nodded. “It’s pretty, that’s for sure.”

  “Have you been back?”

  “Not in a long time,” I replied. “We came over to Australia when I was five. Me, my ma, and Da. Da worked in the mines back home, and he got a job workin’ in one of those opencut mines in Western Australia.”

  “Really?” she asked. “In the outback?”

  “Yeah, I was too little to remember much of Ireland, but I do remember red dust. It gets into everythin’. In the summer, it was too hot to go outside, and the road would melt. I remember one day I’d been out pokin’ sticks into the tar, and I got so sunburned I had to go to hospital in Perth.”

  “True?” Her eyes were wide, and I knew I had her hooked.

  “Pale Irish skin wasn’t meant for the Australian desert.”

  “Do your parents still live there?”

  I hesitated. “I don’t know where my da is,” I said slowly. “He left us when I was eight. He made big money, more than he ever did in Ireland, and he… It went to his head and his dick.” He’d cheated on Ma with a woman who resembled one of the gold diggers that hung around The Underground, and the only reason I knew was because Ma had ranted about it during one of her episodes. “There was no reason for us to stay, and Ma didn’t want to go back to Ireland, so we came to Melbourne.”

  “I’m sorry…” Lori began.

  “It isn’t your fault my da was a douche.”

  I saw her mind ticking over with a million questions, so I turned the conversation back onto her before I was pressured into revealing my double life.

  “What’s Lori short for?” I asked, knowing it was going to be extremely embarrassing. I lived to see that woman blush.

  “Asshole,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  I gave her a wink. “I know.”

  “It’s short for Laurelin.”

  “What’s fuckin’ wrong with that?”

  “It’s too…girly.” She shrugged, her lip curling.

  “If I’m not mistaken, you are a girl.” Her full breasts, which had been jammed against my arm earlier, were a dead giveaway.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I embrace the girl within, but I’m not… I don’t like…” She bowed her head. “I’m not into pink and flowers. You know. Girly shit.”

  My gaze dropped to her pajama bottoms, and I smiled. “No, you are not.”

  “Do guys like that?” she asked, her question coming out of nowhere. “I mean, I see guys going after the women who have the whole thing going on. The clothes, the hair, the makeup… I’m not into any of those things. Do they even see women like me?”

  I blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the fact that Lori felt insecure. I saw her, granted it took me a while to, but I was looking at her now.

  “I see you,” I murmured, and her gaze met mine.

  If I were game to cross the line, then this would be a perfect kiss moment. Not a ‘let’s fuck’ moment but a ‘let’s kiss and make this more’ moment. Her eyes were full of so many swirling emotions, and her body was giving me all the signals… Shallow breathing, parted lips…shit, I realized she wasn’t wearin
g a bra underneath her top because her nipples were hard, peaking against the material.

  Josie appearing at The Underground the other night had made me realize one thing. One dangerous thing that threatened to tear apart the one bright spark that kept me swimming through all the stuff with Ma.

  The lines had blurred so much that I wasn’t even sure there was a line anymore.

  I focused on her lips, and it was all I could do not to lean forward and take her deep. To thrust my tongue against hers and feel her body against mine. My cock began to feel tight against my jeans, urging me to undo my zipper…

  “What are we doin’, Lori?” I whispered.

  She narrowed her eyes and gestured to the food. “Eating?”

  I shook my head slowly, raising my hand toward her face. When she didn’t move away, I cupped her cheek, the curve of her jaw fitting against my palm perfectly. My fingers curled around her neck, threading into the hair at her nape as I urged her toward me. Just the slightest of touches, like I was making a suggestion, not a command.

  Conscious or unconscious, I didn’t know, but the space closed between us, and all I wanted was to fall headfirst into her and whatever this mysterious feeling was. I wanted to dive into the deep end and learn how to swim through the chaos with her.

  My lips brushed against hers, and she didn’t move, her breath hitching as I slid my palm along her thigh toward her hip. Testing her boundaries further, I kissed her softly, her mouth fitting with mine like we were two pieces of a puzzle clicking together.

  Everything about this felt right, and I parted my lips, ready to…

  Suddenly, she jerked back, breaking the connection. It shattered like she’d hosed me down with soda water like she had Storm. I was beginning to see a pattern.

  “You really can’t hang out with a woman without trying something, can you?” she asked accusingly.

  “Lori…” A deep chill began to settle in my bones, and I leaned back, my cock going soft.

  “What is it? You don’t have any friends who are chicks? Or is it just because you see women as objects?” She looked me over, her expression impassive, and I started grinding my teeth together. “Fuck, it’s because you don’t want to fall for anyone, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t understand it until right then, but she hit it right on the mark, and I stood up, my hands curling into fists. Bitch.

  “Oh shit, I’m right, aren’t I?” She shook her head, pressing back against the couch. “That Josie chick really did a number on you.”

  Was all the shit I’d felt just now only because of my stupid fucking cock? I’d been ready to do more than just fuck her. I’d been about to hand over everything. She was fucking dangerous. Damaged and dangerous.

  I ran my hand over my face and cursed.

  “You’re just trying to wrap our relationship up into something you can understand instead of respecting the boundaries of friendship,” she said.

  “Do you really believe that shit?” I asked, glaring at her. “After everythin’?”

  “After what?” Her voice began to rise as she stood in front of me. “After we just talked about ourselves a couple of times?”

  I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t make any words come out. What was I going to say, anyway? Not only could my ma not remember her own son ninety-nine percent of the time but she was also dying of cancer, and I was putting her through unnecessary pain because I was a selfish bastard. Not to mention I might have the same poison inside my chest trying to choke the life from me.

  I’d been the strong one in this stupid attempt at a friendship. I was the fighter, the protector. I’d promised to keep Lori safe from Storm. If she knew all of that, she’d never see me the same way again.

  It didn’t matter, anyway. In a move that I assumed was classic Lori, I’d gotten too close, so she was pushing me away with all her strength. Storm had hurt her more than she ever let on, but it was none of my business. Just like Ma was none of hers.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” she said, her words stabbing me right in the heart.

  “I’m beginnin’ to think the same thing.”

  Turning on my heel, I strode down the hall and wrenched the front door open. Lori didn’t call after me once, which only served to rip my pride clean in two.

  Slamming the door closed behind me, the glass rattled, and I was alone on the street in front of her house.

  Alone. That was a horrible word and an even worse feeling.

  The bright spark that had been guiding me through the worst time in my life?

  It was gone, and I only had myself to blame.

  14

  Lori

  Slamming around the kitchen, I let out a long string of curse words. All of the worst ones included with maximum rotation.

  I hadn’t slept a wink last night. Not after that stupid fight with Hamish. Busying myself making a stiff cup of coffee, I pulled out all the stuff and boiled some water, but I couldn’t calm myself down. Caffeine probably wasn’t the best thing for me right then, but my eyes were heavy and scratchy…just like my mood.

  Why couldn’t he just keep his hands to himself? Things had been going good. There wasn’t any pressure to be or do more, and that’s what I liked about him and me. No worries.

  Total lie.

  Pressing down the plunger, the hot water began turning a deep shade of blacker than black, and the scent of coffee filled the little kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grabbed the milk and slammed the door closed, turned and promptly whacked my arm against the edge of the cupboard. Right on the funny bone.

  “Dammit!” I grasped my elbow and rubbed, the pain only fueling my anger.

  Fuck you, Hamish McBride! He’d been all kiss me, kiss me, and I froze. Stuck in a hypnotic trance because that’s what he was. A sexual hypnotist. It wouldn’t have taken much to let him go all the way, but the second his lips parted against mine… If I tasted him like that, I knew I’d be a goner.

  He was a fighter with a string of women who shadowed him every single night at The Underground. He had his pick, so why was he with me? Was I just a challenge to him? The chick who wanted to be friends had to wear down eventually and let him bang her. I knew it was a big excuse on my part because I felt it—it being the thing that made a woman want a man to put tab A into slot B—but there was still fear there. The fear Storm was responsible for.

  The only thing I could do was slam my walls up and be the biggest bitch on the planet. Lucky for me, it worked. Epic sarcasm involved in that one.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Bel asked, shuffling into the kitchen.

  She was wearing her silk dressing gown, the one that had the Japanese cherry blossom pattern all over it, and her hair was wild.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I said, sitting at the table with my precious coffee.

  She grunted as she opened the fridge and began staring at the contents.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, tipping some milk into my mug.

  “I’m tender,” she replied.

  I didn’t have to ask her where she was tender because it had everything to do with between her legs.

  “What’s up with you?” she went on. “You’re slamming things around like you’re throwing a tantrum. Did you have a fight with the Irish beefcake?”

  I rolled my eyes and pointed to the pot of coffee I’d brewed. It was that instant shit, but caffeine was caffeine in this house.

  “What’s the deal with you two?” Bel asked, pouring herself a cup. “And don’t tell me that you’re just friends. You can’t be just friends with a guy who looks like that unless he’s gay.” Her mouth dropped open. “He’s gay?”

  Thinking about the skillful way he’d tried to get in my pants last night, I shook my head. “No. Definitely not gay.”

  She sat across from me at the table. “Because that would be a shame for all womankind.”

  Off the top of my head, I could picture at least a hundred woman who would also agree.

  “What’s the deal with
you guys?” she asked again. “Because if you’re worried about him cheating on you with a posse of sluts like that other fuckwit, I think you should let it go.”

  “Let it go?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

  “Yeah.” She took a sip of her coffee. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s men, and that guy is different.”

  “That I believe,” I retorted. “But how can you tell?”

  She shrugged. “I just can.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Fine,” she declared, putting her cup down. “I did all the moves that usually get me laid with little to no effort, and he didn’t stop looking at you. But Storm? The one time I met the loser, he looked at me.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stared into my coffee hoping it was a crystal ball. Then it could show me my shiny, bright future with a step-by-step guide on how to get there.

  “Do you like him?” Bel asked straight up. “Not just fucking for the high but ‘get to know him and cuddle a little afterward’ like him.”

  I shrugged.

  “Don’t let fear talk for you, Lori, or you’ll be sitting here in another two years pining over Hamish instead of Storm. And for different reasons.”

  “This is a little existential for this time of the morning,” I said lamely.

  “You’re avoiding the question.” She snorted and picked up her coffee, blowing on it.

  “Of course, I’m avoiding it. I’m not ready to acknowledge the answer.”

  “And the answer is that something’s there, isn’t it?”

  When I glanced up, she was watching me closely, waiting for something to confirm her suspicions. She was right, but I wasn’t sure fear was the only thing holding me back. There were a great number of secrets and insecurities in play, and it was way too early to be calling any kind of shot that involved my heart.

  “I knew it!” Bel exclaimed. “Lori, shit! Go after him! That guy is a catch.” She jiggled in her seat. “I bet he’s good with his dick.”

  “Bel!” My face went red, and of course, I began thinking about his cock. Last night, I swore it had been a little hard underneath my legs while we sat together on the couch. I’d pushed it to the back of my mind, just like all the other little clues he’d been giving me the last couple of weeks.