Notorious: Playing With Fire, Book 4

by Karen Erickson

  Dedication

  To my family for putting up with me sitting at my computer all the livelong day and to my readers—Eric’s story is for you.

  Chapter One

  Eric strutted into the bar, and heard his name called not once, but twice. The place was packed and dark, and he couldn’t make out any faces, not that he cared. Pasting a smile on his face, he waved, though God knows who at.

  It didn’t matter. He came tonight for anonymous sex as usual, and he was going to get it.

  He went up to the bartender, a man he had been acquainted with since they’d fooled around together only a few weeks ago, and ordered a beer. Glancing about the room as he leaned against the polished wood counter, he drank in the scene. Nothing unusual going on, but that wasn’t a surprise.

  Loud music played, a few couples danced out on the makeshift dance floor. Gay bars logically equaled a room full of gay men, and he liked this one in particular because it was a nice mix. Not just pretty boys and twinks, not just the rough looking, leather-clad guys, not just the big cuddly bears.

  This place offered a little bit of everything.

  Including a very familiar-looking woman who sat at the counter, her elbows propped against the edge, a morose expression on her pretty face. Eric’s casual perusal came to a complete halt.

  Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, he moseyed over to where she sat, studied her blatantly since her back was to him. Tipping his head, he checked out her profile and sweet with blondish-brown hair, big blue eyes that scanned the room with curiosity, it looked like she was there alone.

  Odd. And interesting.

  Turning her head, her gaze lit upon him, and her eyes went wide with recognition. Damn it, he did know this woman, he just couldn’t remember how. Had he fucked her? He’d had his share of women since he split with Brandon and Alexa, but he’d messed around more with guys. Lots of blow jobs. Lots and lots of anonymous blow jobs in the back of bars just like this one.

  Eric frowned, suddenly disgusted with himself. When had he turned into such a man whore?

  “You’re Eric, right?” she suddenly asked, pointing a finger at him.

  Nodding slowly, he contemplated her. Wished like crazy he could remember who she was.

  She smiled and shook her head. “This is so embarrassing. I figured coming here, I wouldn’t come across anyone I know, and yet here you are.”

  “Uh, yeah.” He leaned against the bar, trying his damnedest to place her. “How are you?”

  Her smile grew. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Chuckling, he glanced down at the ground, feeling like a jackass. “You caught me.”

  “We’ve only met a few times,” she offered.

  Lifting his head, he studied her. Her eyes were a gorgeous pale icy blue fringed with long, thick eyelashes, delicate dark brown brows. With a pert nose and lush pink lips, she was a mixture of innocence and temptation. She didn’t resemble Alexa whatsoever.

  Just the way he liked his women, he thought grimly.

  Alexa, he realized. Their connection was through Alexa.

  “You’re a friend of Alexa’s,” he said with a quick snap of his fingers, and she nodded.

  “I’m her best friend, though I haven’t seen much of her lately.” She immediately shut up, as if afraid she might upset him. Smart girl since everyone knew about his crazy semi-relationship and ultimate breakup with his boyfriend all because of Alexa.

  Alexa, the first woman he’d ever been with but certainly not the last. He’d fucked plenty. Plenty of women, plenty of men, all in the hopes they could help him forget.

  It didn’t work.

  “I feel like an ass but I can’t remember your name…” his voice trailed off. Gaze dropped to her chest and noticed her breasts pressed invitingly against the simple white T-shirt she wore. He swore he caught sight of delicate lace beneath the thin fabric. Which of course, intrigued him.

  Eric frowned. This woman—Alexa’s best friend for Christ’s sake—should be off limits.

  “Stacy,” she offered, and stuck her hand out for him to shake.

  He took it, felt the immediate spark flare between their palms when they connected. It shot up his arm, fired his blood and he dropped her hand almost as if it burned him. Her eyes flared, darkening for the briefest moment and he knew she felt it too.

  At least he wasn’t alone in this.

  The bartender set his beer in front of him with a loud thump, and Eric glanced at Stacy. “You want something to drink?”

  “I have something already, thanks.” She pointed at the sweating glass in front of her. It was almost empty and looked watered down and if it had been him he would’ve jumped all over the drink offer.

  Another problem of his. Too much fucking and fooling around and way too much drinking. He needed to get his head on straight.

  Yet he really didn’t want to.

  “So what’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a gay bar like this?” He brought the glass to his lips and drank half the beer, smiling when he caught the pink flush on her cheeks. Did she not get many compliments or what?

  “Honestly? You don’t want to know.” She shook her head and tried to laugh it off.

  “Now I definitely want to know.” He polished off the rest of the beer and slammed the glass on the counter, waving at the bartender and indicating he wanted another.

  “Wow, you must be really thirsty.” Her gaze met his, full of concern and he ignored it. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him. He was just fine. “Um, my fiancé and I just broke up.”

  “No shit?” He really wished he had that second beer. His gaze started to wander. He smiled at some random hot guy standing just beyond Stacy’s shoulder, and the hot guy made a kissy face at him back.

  Damn it, he was getting somewhat of a reputation at this place. Maybe he needed to find a new bar to haunt. To troll.

  “Yeah, no shit,” she echoed, her voice soft. She reached out and patted his hand. “There are other people I think you want to talk to, so go ahead. It was nice seeing you again.”

  He immediately felt like crap. She was letting him off the hook. This pretty girl who looked so alone in the middle of a loud, predominantly gay bar full of men on the hunt to score. She was so out of place she stood out, and even though he craved attention tonight—attention he knew he wouldn’t get from her and she couldn’t satisfy him anyway—he thought he should stay with her.

  At least for a little while longer.

  “I can hang out with you,” he offered. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Listen.” She took a deep breath, as if gathering her courage. “I don’t really know you. And I’m not about to demand your time and force you to hang out with me when clearly you don’t want to. I’ve already been through that, and I really don’t feel like dealing with it again so you can go, okay? Go flirt and have fun and get drunk. I’m no fun tonight, trust me.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who needs to flirt and have fun and get drunk.” She probably did. He had the urge to wipe that depressed look from her face. Ease her pain and make her laugh.

  A new glass was placed in front of him, and he sipped it this time under the careful eye of his newfound friend. She watched, and it made him uncomfortable.

  “I got drunk last night,” she confessed with a nervous little laugh, high pitched and forced. “It didn’t help. I thought I might get drunk again tonight, but this place is so not my scene.”

  Eric glanced around the room again, caught the eye of more than a few guys who looked interested. If he wasn’t sitting with Stacy he would approach one of them. Hell, with how quick he sometimes moved he could’ve had one on his knees in front of him w
ith a mouth full of cock by now.

  “I hate to tell you this, Stace.” He leaned in close, his mouth hovered just above her ear. He inhaled her sweet floral scent, heady and so feminine, it made him slightly dizzy. “But you’re in a gay bar. That’s why it’s not your scene.”

  “Well, I know that.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to look at him, their gazes meeting. Locking. Their faces were awfully close. As in kissing distance, not that he was about to kiss her. She just broke up with her boyfriend—make that her fiancé, which made it even worse. Some jackass she’d planned to marry and now it was over. How devastating could that be?

  Oh wait, he knew all about breakups and devastation. It was the reason he acted like such a damn man whore always looking for someone to fuck, someone to lose himself in. Or he lost himself in something, like all the booze he drank.

  Look at him, getting all reflective. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered there, and he knew without a doubt she thought about kissing him too. Surprising, considering she just got dumped. “I came to this bar on purpose because I really thought I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew.”

  “Yet here I am.” He flashed her a crooked smile. The patented one that got the attention and he’d practiced it in his bathroom mirror more than once.

  Yeah, he was a complete shit. No wonder he couldn’t keep a steady relationship, couldn’t make anyone happy. No wonder he trolled this bar looking for his next quick fix. It was the best he could do. It was all he was worth.

  “Here you are,” she agreed and smiled, the sight of it stealing his breath and his fingers gripped tight around the mug of beer. Brought it to his mouth and sucked it down as if he needed it to frickin’ live another minute. Her eyes widened the slightest bit. If he hadn’t been sitting so close to her he would’ve never noticed. But she seemed to notice everything about him, and he didn’t know if he liked it.

  “You have kind eyes,” she said out of the blue, her cheeks flushing the moment the words slipped past her lips.

  He was oddly touched at her compliment. “Trust me, I’m an asshole.”

  “I don’t believe that.” She shook her head slowly, little flyaway blonde tendrils tickling her cheeks. He had the sudden urge to brush them away. “I think you put up a front.”

  “It’s not a front.” He leaned back and held his arms out wide. “This is all me. Take it or leave it.”

  “If I wasn’t so depressed, I’d take it.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes gone wide. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “You don’t mean it anyway. You’re only saying that because you know you’re depressed, and you’d never do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Do me.” He smiled and lifted his eyebrows. Two beers in and he was already acting cocky. He threw it out as a challenge. Didn’t believe she’d ever take him up on any sort of offer because she wasn’t that type of girl.

  He could just tell.

  “You think I’m pitiful, huh?” She scowled, her blue eyes blazed and even mad she was beautiful. Perhaps even more so. “Poor Stacy drowning her sorrows at a gay bar because her fiancé rejected her for another man.”

  “Wait a minute, back up.” He shook his head as if he could clear it. “What do you mean he rejected you for another man?”

  Stacy stared into Eric’s golden brown eyes, became momentarily lost in them. She really didn’t want to explain the dirty details of her breakup with Keith. It all started that one time she discovered him wearing her panties. Next thing she knew he was asking her to marry him, gave her a gorgeous diamond ring and made elaborate proclamations of love.

  Then she discovered he had his own stash of lingerie. And he enjoyed dressing up in full drag and hanging out at bars that catered to that sort of clientele. Next thing she knew, he was getting calls from guys, one in particular.

  He broke up with her after she confronted him about it. Said he was in love with the guy, that he didn’t want to marry her, he couldn’t because he wasn’t in love with her. He was pretending to be something else, someone else and it wasn’t fair to her.

  Then he confessed he was also considering a sex change because deep down inside he always believed he should’ve been a woman.

  She’d felt like a fool at his confession. She still did. How the hell had she missed that?

  “I really don’t want to explain it.” She hopped off the barstool and grabbed her purse, hitching it onto her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again and thanks for chatting with me. See you around.”

  Without even giving him a chance to speak, she turned on her heel and headed toward the door. What a mistake. Why did she think it smart to go hang out at a gay bar? She could’ve run into Keith, for God’s sake. She’d lost her mind thinking going out in the first place all alone was a good idea.

  She pushed through the crowded room, earning more than a few strange stares. They probably wondered what she was doing there, and she couldn’t blame them. She was wondering the same thing.

  Strong fingers wrapped around her forearm, stopping her just before she reached out to push the entrance door open. Turning, she saw Eric standing before her, a grim expression on his gorgeous face as he glared at her.

  And he really was gorgeous with those eyes and the high cheekbones. The sexy mouth and the messy, dirty blond hair. He was movie star handsome, the type Stacy never imagined herself with because she knew men who looked like him would never be interested in someone like her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving.” She shrugged away from his touch, her skin still tingling from the press of his fingers. “I know I’m the last person you want to hang out with anyway, not that I blame you. Who wants to comfort the dumped chick when you could get drunk off your ass and find some cute guy to fool around with?”

  He flinched as if she’d slapped him and she couldn’t believe she just said that. Couldn’t help but wonder just how close to the truth she really was. Oh, she’d heard the stories. Alexa had told her most of them. Her worry for Eric, how she knew he was going out constantly and picking up men and women. Looking for a quick sexual fix but never moving beyond the one-night stand.

  Looked like Stacy had interrupted this evening’s search. She didn’t really feel bad about it either.

  Though she did feel bad for Eric overall. What Alexa and Brad had done to him was…harsh. There were no other words for it. She knew they fell in love and there had been trouble in Brad’s and Eric’s relationship prior to Alexa becoming involved, but still.

  Poor guy got left out in the cold. And she couldn’t help but sympathize.

  “I don’t need your concern,” he muttered, his gaze boring into hers, his entire body vibrating with tension.

  “I don’t need your concern either,” she returned.

  He stared at her for a long, quiet moment, the air between them thick with tension. And something else—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was there. Wrapping around them like a sort of protective bubble, so thick she didn’t even notice the crush of people around her, the noise of the bar, the music playing that faded to a low throbbing beat.

  “What do you need?” he finally asked, his voice pitched low, his gaze locked on her mouth.

  Her lips tingled as if he’d actually physically touched them. How was she supposed to answer that? Really, she was nothing but a good girl. A boring girl. One who did the right thing, who never got in trouble, who was never daring or outrageous or free.

  This man, what he asked, how he looked at her, he made her want to do something completely outrageous. Just for her.

  She’d always secretly wanted to do something secretly outrageous.

  “I—I don’t know what I need,” she admitted, her voice gone soft, a little breathless.

  “I think you do.” He stepped closer, invading her space. So close she could smell him, see the slightly desperate look in his eyes and she wondered
if hers matched.

  Because standing so close to him, smelling him, his body heat radiating toward her, drawing her in, she suddenly felt really desperate.

  “Are you suggesting something?” This was insane. She had just broken up with Keith, and here she was possibly propositioning a man she barely knew. A man who happened to be the ex…whatever of her best friend.

  “Come with me.” He offered his hand and she took it, his fingers curling about hers, long and firm. Tingles shot up her arm, blossomed low in her stomach at his touch. She followed him out of the building and onto the sidewalk outside, the quiet night enveloping her with a sort of blessed relief. The air was crisp, a hint of fall in the breeze that blew over them and she nearly tripped over her own feet as he led her down the sidewalk, his stride long and purposeful.

  “Wh—where are we going?” she called after him, tugging on his hand so he’d turn around and look at her.

  He flashed her a charming smile, white teeth glowing in the darkness and the sight of that smile somehow, in some way made her panties melt. “Right here.”

  Eric pulled her into a short alleyway and pressed her against the brick wall of the building so quick the breath was knocked out of her. He crowded her yet again, even closer this time and she leaned into him. His chest pressed close to hers, his lower body nudging insistently. She swore she felt the brush of his cock against her, even through his jeans, and her knees weakened.

  Hovering over her, he cupped her cheek with a wide hand. She tilted her head back and met his turbulent gaze. “What are you doing?” Her entire body went still at his nearness. Her breath came hard and fast as she waited for his answer.

  He smiled again, his thumb sweeping along her skin and sending a scattering of tingles throughout her body. “You ask a lot of questions don’t you? Are you the type who likes a play by play?”

  She frowned. Tried to ignore the fire his touch ignited deep within her. “A play by play?”

  “Yeah, like this.” He lowered his head so his mouth barely brushed against hers. “First, I’m going to kiss you. Then I’m going to touch you. And then…well I’m not sure what’s going to happen after that, but we’ll see how willing you are. That sort of play by play, you know?”