Stand (Black Addiction Book 3)

by T Gephart

  “You almost look normal.” Jules smiled, pulling out two plates and placing them on the counter. “I hope you’re hungry, I made loads.”

  “Uh-huh.” I picked up my juice and sipped it tentatively. I didn’t want to get cocky; puking wasn’t completely off the table.

  The plates had just been loaded up with waffles, ready to be smothered with syrup when there was a knock at our door.

  A knock.

  Jules and I locked eyes as a surge of panic overrode the hangover.

  “Does he know where you live?” she whispered, her eyes darting between me and the door.

  “Even if he did, how did he get past the doorman?” One of the perks of living in our apartment was no danger of door-to-door salesmen or unwanted boyfriends banging on your door at three in the morning. Every visitor had to be signed or escorted in, with the concierge militant about the no-stranger rule. Unless someone vouched for you, you were left to chill on the sidewalk.

  Of course the smart thing to do would be to open the damn door. Then we’d see who was on the other side, rather than deliberating if someone had been stealthy enough to get through the rigorous security measures. The second knock punctuated the point.

  “We should answer it.” Jules’ head tilted toward the door, and by we, she meant me. She had made breakfast so I guess if we were going to get murdered by some random stranger, I should be the first one to go. It would be the polite thing to do.

  “Fine, I’ll do it.” I shuffled to the door, regretting my decision to not wear a bra. Last thing I needed was the murderer checking out my rack before he went slasher on me. Seriously, enough with the fucking clichés.

  I tiptoed to the door like an idiot, unsure of when I turned into a moron and pressed my eye to the peephole.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “What the fuck?” I said it out loud as well as in my head, because my brain couldn’t connect with what my eyes were seeing. My hands fumbled with the lock as I tried to open the door. C’mon fingers, twist and pull; the door flew open confirming who I’d seen through the peephole hadn’t been a mirage.

  “Beth?”

  Standing on my threshold was Max Reynolds, the six-foot-three, dark haired sex god from Black Addiction who I’d said goodbye to years ago. And goddamn those years had been good to him. Sure, I’d seen him in magazines, on TV or the occasional Google search, but it was nothing compared to what he looked like in the flesh.

  Wow.

  Was I staring? I must have been, because he was looking just as confused as I was.

  “Beth?” He said my name again, stepping forward without an invitation. Not that he needed one; he pretty much owned every room he ever walked in. Mine—was no exception.

  “Max, what are you doing here?”

  There were a million questions running through my mind, but what had brought him to my front door was probably the one that was screaming the loudest. Along with, “How did you get hotter?” and “Can you please take off your shirt?” Thankfully the last few were saved just for me.

  “Whoaaaaaaaa, Max Reynolds, the bass player from Black Addiction?” Jules’ voice reminded me I wasn’t alone as she sidled up next to me, her eyes almost bulging from her head.

  “That would be me.” His lips spread into a huge grin and every memory of that smile and what it was capable of came flooding back.

  That smile was dangerous and I was already having trouble fighting gravity today. The temptation to check if this wasn’t some alcohol fuelled dream proved too great as I reached out and placed my hand on his chest.

  Hard.

  Even through the fabric of his T-shirt, I could feel the toned muscles underneath.

  “Do you fondle all your guests or just ones you haven’t seen in a while?” His brow rose as we both looked down at my hand. It seemed to have a mind of its own, wandering with reckless abandon all over his torso, as I stood there mostly silent.

  “Crap, sorry.” I yanked my offending hand away from his delicious body and reminded myself I still had no idea what he was doing here. It was also a safe bet I had no idea what I was doing either so I hoped he had a better handle on it.

  “No apologies needed.” Another smile.

  Don’t touch him, I reminded myself.

  “Someone want to explain why Max Reynolds is at our front door?” Jules eyed us impatiently. “And why does it seem like you know each other already?”

  “Because we dated. Extensively.” Max’s eyes stayed glued to mine despite it being Jules who was asking the question. “And I just moved in, figured I’d get to know my neighbors.”

  “You live here?” My mouth shot out, drowning out Jules’. “You dated?”

  “Yes.” He answered Jules before turning his attention to me. “The fiftieth floor. It has a nice view.”

  I wasn’t sure what shocked me the most. The fact Max was here, standing in front of me in all his badass, sexy glory or that he apparently moved into my apartment building out of the millions—okay, possibly a slight exaggeration—of housing options in the city of New York.

  “Soooooooo . . .” My brain fumbled with an appropriate response.

  Yep, I’ve got nothing.

  “Did you want to come in?” It was the best I could hope for given the circumstances. Considering we’d been lingering in the doorway, an invitation was way past due.

  “I’d love to.” He had always had an uncanny ability to make innocent words sound so illicit. The ones he’d just spoken were no exception.

  “Dated huh?” Jules elbowed me in the ribs as we both stepped aside so he could walk past. “We are having some serious words later,” she whispered as both of our eyes traveled the length of his back and settled on his very fine ass.

  “Damn,” she cursed under her breath.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed. It had been awhile, but it was no less spectacular.

  “So, this is where you ran off to?” Max turned around, either ignoring the fact we were ogling his ass or being too polite to mention it. “It’s a nice place.”

  “I wasn’t running, just chose a different direction.” True it was a lifetime away from what he probably remembered, but I hadn’t run. And this was exactly where I needed to be even if I was miles away from home.

  “Very different.” He moved closer and picked up a few strands of hair that fell against my shoulder. The black, short bob he remembered having been replaced by longer locks in my natural brunette color. “It looks good on you.”

  “Thanks, it’s easier to maintain.”

  Was I really having a conversation about my goddamn hair?

  “Well, I guess I’ll make my own introductions, I’m Jules. You’ll have to forgive Beth, she had a rough night.” Jules held out her hand which Max returned with a shake. “Max.” His part of the introduction unnecessary, pretty sure everyone in the city knew exactly who he was.

  I really needed to get my shit together. Other than inviting him in, I had no game plan nor did I have any idea of what I was actually doing.

  “Are you hungry?” Why the hell was I so nervous? “Jules made waffles.”

  “Starved.” A sexy grin pulled at his outer lips as he glanced down at my unicorn T-shirt—the grin getting a little wider.

  Yeah, that wasn’t sexy at all.

  “Greaaaat,” I said with equal parts enthusiasm and hesitation. “The kitchen is this way.”

  This was not how I imagined my Saturday morning was going to end up. If I wasn’t before, I was well and truly sober now. And I was seriously regretting my wardrobe choices this morning. Oh, and I was probably—it was too soon to tell definitively—never drinking again.

  Ivy Shaw had a lot to answer for.

  Best apartment in her portfolio, my ass. And her friend was not the fucking douchebag she’d been dating; he probably hadn’t set foot inside this building. Which is exactly why she made me promise not to fly off the handle three weeks ago when we’d signed the contract. It wasn’t the occupants
of apartment twenty six sixteen that she was worried about, it was her own ass.

  It took me three seconds after the door opened to realize I’d been set up. Not that I fucking cared. Being pissed at Ivy took up mental space I no longer had available, all of it occupied by the woman I could barely take my eyes off—Beth.

  She looked different from the last time I’d seen her, and it wasn’t just her hair. The tight pink T-shirt gave me a sample of the kind of body she was rocking underneath and I very much liked what I saw.

  Beth had always been beautiful, and able to get me from zero to a hundred with little more than a look. Curves in all the right places and she’d known what to do with them, but this incarnation was so much more. She was more toned than I remembered, her body tighter and more conditioned. You could tell she’d spent some quality time inside a gym, not that I gave a fuck how much she could bench press. Nope, my interest was a lot less virtuous than that.

  As for her hands on me, well that was something she would never have to be sorry about. My dick was already jealous it hadn’t been him.

  Should I have done the hello-nice-to-see-you-again and left? Probably—the reunion obviously just as unexpected for her—but there wasn’t a chance I was leaving and it had nothing to do with breakfast.

  “So when did you move to Manhattan?” Beth placed a plate piled with waffles down in front of me as she took her seat at the table. If my reappearance had fazed her, she’d gotten her composure back real quick.

  “Yesterday, it’s still getting furnished.” And not a moment too soon it seemed, my weekend getting exponentially better.

  “Well if you need anything until you get all your stuff, let us know.” She offered, her beautiful smile hitting me like a kick in the balls.

  “Yeah, anything you need.” Her friend poured me a glass of juice. “Cup of sugar, fresh towels, a bed . . . ouch! Don’t kick me.” She hid her smirk behind a coffee cup while she rubbed her shin with the other hand.

  “My foot slipped.” Beth shrugged, biting her lip.

  “Sure it did.” Jules glared, her face even less convinced than her tone. “I’ll just go and enjoy my breakfast on the balcony. Less chance of bruising.”

  We watched as she grabbed her plate and moved away from the table, a wordless exchange passing between her and Beth before she left the room.

  “So, yeah . . . whatever you need.” Beth settled into her seat.

  “Thanks for the offer, might take you up on that.” And I wasn’t talking about a cup of sugar. I was more than just a little bit pleased that now I had her all to myself.

  Of course I had no idea what exactly was on offer, but I was more than just a little curious to find out. The idea of getting reacquainted sent a shiver right down to my balls.

  Beth had been more than just an ex-girlfriend; she’d been part of my world for so long I’d just assumed she’d always be there. Deep down I knew she was saying goodbye when she left the last time, but part of me assumed we’d stay friends.

  There had been no bad break-up, no hurt feelings—there never was with us—and even when we hadn’t been a couple, she’d always been cool to hang out with. So I had been surprised to hear she’d packed up and moved out of town without telling me. She didn’t call and I was too caught up in what I was doing to call her. Not even sure why I didn’t to be honest, but before you knew it, the months stretched into a year. Then a couple more, and in time she just became a part of history. A really awesome part of my history.

  Unfortunately it wasn’t her virtues as my friend that had me currently juiced up and I had to remind myself that there was a lot of water under the bridge. And not only had it been years since I’d slept with her, the lack of conversation between us had been just as long. Oh, and I had no idea who or what was in her life right now. Getting up to speed on the particulars was suddenly a more pressing issue than unpacking boxes.

  “I have to say . . .” Beth’s eyes dipped down to her plate before coming back to where I wanted them. On me. “It’s a strange coincidence that you moved into my building. I mean, what were the chances?”

  She’d always been bright, and that million-to-one possibility was just a little too convenient. Of course, probabilities had a big helping hand.

  “I’d say better than average when Ivy Shaw is involved.”

  The more I thought about it the more fucking obvious it had been. Ivy hadn’t been that slick, I’d just been too freaking distracted to take notice. I should have known and yet there we were . . . surprise, eating breakfast with the girl who’d probably meant more to me than any girl ever. Oh and my it’s-all-in-the-past bullshit that I’d convinced myself of was no longer valid. I was not about to go quietly into the night after our little reunion that much was for damn sure.

  “You know, I always assumed she would have told you.” Beth pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave me her full attention. “She’s still one of my closest friends, and she was the one who helped me find this place . . .” She left her sentence trailing.

  “Yeah, well I know now.” And wasn’t that the truth.

  Beth Hart was not the kind of girl you could meet and go on with your life like she didn’t exist. Lord knows I’d fucking tried. It wasn’t just her looks—even though we’d established she was a knockout—there was something more. Something inherently good that I’d always found hard to walk away from. And seeing her now reminded me exactly what had attracted me to her in the beginning. And while I assumed our relationship had run its natural course—not pushing the issue—I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right decision way back when. Amazing how quickly I could do a one-eighty, being indifferent to our initial separation and now knowing one way or another I was having her in my life.

  I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her, ignoring the uncomfortable silence between us.

  “You’ve done really well for yourself.” She was the first one to break the staring match we had going on. “The band has done great, and you look . . . good. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Come on, Beth. It’s been over four years.” My fingers reached out and brushed over her knuckles. If she didn’t want me to touch her, she was going to have to say so. “I don’t want to talk about the band or how I look. Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t leave; I’ve been in New York the whole time.” She shrugged but didn’t pull her hand away. “I just needed more, Max, for both of us. It was just the wrong time and we needed to move in different directions. You had the world at your feet, and I didn’t want to be left wondering what if.”

  There was no regret in her voice or her eyes. No hesitation. Just crystal fucking clear clarity that I wasn’t sure I’d ever possess.

  “I’m a teacher, Max.” She kept talking, my mouth not opening despite the million thoughts churning through my head. “I have a wonderful group of kids and I love what I do. I love Manhattan and I love where I’ve ended up. Being with you was amazing, some of the best years of my life, but we weren’t ready to settle. I wasn’t ready to settle.”

  Had she always been this fucking smart? Obviously she’d been way beyond my league; my head had just been too far up my ass to notice.

  “I’m glad you didn’t settle.” I pushed my plate away, no longer interested in anything that was on it. “And I’m glad you are teaching. It’s what you always wanted to do.”

  “Seeing you follow your dreams, kind of gave me a nudge in the right direction.” She moved her hand to cover mine. “We were good together, but we were also really good apart.”

  “This is so fucking weird.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean seriously, the whole situation was a fuck load of absurdity. Freaking sliding doors and near misses—the exact bullshit I would have expected from some asshole in a turban at a county fair. Step right up folks, I’ll read your palm for a twenty.

  “You think this is weird?” She screwed up her face in mock horror. “I’m the one sitting here in no bra or shoes and a blood alcohol level that is probably still questi
onable. Trust me, if anyone could have used the tip off it would have been me.”

  I tried to stifle my grin, but it didn’t stand a chance. “Just so you know, the no bra thing isn’t a problem.” And not something I hadn’t noticed.

  “Yeah, yeah. Nothing you haven’t seen already.” She shook her head as a smile twitched at the edges of her lips. “I’m still going to kill Ivy.”

  FYI, I didn’t care how many times I’d already seen her tits, it would never get old. My dick thickened just at the mention. So her thinking that because I’d already been there, I had no interest in being there again was crazy talk. Not that I was going to bring it up, we’d already superseded the level of awkward for one day.

  Instead I turned my attention to the second part of Beth’s statement and the pint-size brunette who sadly had a price on her head. I hope that stockbroker boyfriend hadn’t gotten too attached. “I think it should be a team effort, I have a score of my own to settle.”

  “Agreed.”

  ***

  There weren’t a lot of reasons for me to stay in Beth’s apartment. As it was, sitting down and eating breakfast had been a stretch. Sticking around playing catch up—I was almost positive I was outstaying my welcome.

  Her friend came back, her time on the balcony exhausted, as I thanked them for the breakfast I didn’t eat and made for the door. My head threatened to explode with the new development, the holy-shit-blast-from-the-past not what I had been expecting this early in the morning.

  Fortunately for me I was almost positive that my best friend—and drummer extraordinaire from Black Addiction—Joey, would also be awake. A newborn daughter will do that to a guy, and Uncle Max had never been more pleased that Layla was an early riser. The call for him to meet me at my new pad happened before I’d even made it back to my front door.