by Keri Lake
“Oh. Are you living here?” He reared back, as though it suddenly occurred to him that I hadn’t come to slum it up. “Wait … are you a student down here?”
“Yeah.” The repulsion on his face had me choking back laughter. If all I’d had to do was tell him I’d decided to go to a Detroit school to get that kind of repugnance out of the jerk, I’d have done it right after we’d broken up. Live and learn.
It seemed like the conversation had reached its max, and call it old feelings rising to the surface, but I started feeling trapped.
Times before, when I’d walked away from him, Dane would make a scene. He’d incite an argument with me, or shout some embarrassing remark that’d make me want to hide away somewhere.
I didn’t plan to talk to him all night, and I sure as hell didn’t plan to run and hide, which left me wondering what to do.
At something brushing my elbow, I glanced down to a hand there, then up to Ty, standing behind me.
“I’m cashing in on that dance you promised me, Sera.” Compared to Dane’s insincere, honeyed voice, Ty’s was rich chocolate, and his words added a spicy kick.
“I … thought you said you were here with a roommate. Who’s this?” The flinch of Dane’s eye told me Ty intimidated him.
Good.
“Dane, this is Ty.” I noticed their differences, the way Ty was rough and hard against Dane’s smooth, paraffin polish. Both guys were big, but Ty stood a little taller, with tight lean muscles, while Dane’s were bulky, almost sloppy.
Neither of them offered a handshake, which made the introduction completely awkward, and I wanted nothing more than to magically disappear from between the two.
“You go to school here too, Ty?”
Ty shook his head, and the calm on his face assured me that Dane hadn’t rattled him, at all, a gut-settling observation. Surely, the mocking in Dane’s voice would’ve gotten to Ty, but I didn’t sense any tautness, or anger, that suggested Dane was anything more than an annoying fly buzzing around his drink.
Dane, on the other hand, could’ve probably ignited into a ball of flames with all the tension rolling off of him. “Do you … work?”
“Ironworker.”
“Ironworker?”
The disgust in his tone irritated the shit out of me, even if it hadn’t seemed to get to Ty. I hated his snobbery, and the beauty of being out of high school was, I no longer had to tolerate it.
“Good luck at school, Dane. Glad everything is going great with your new relationship.”
Dane blinked and shifted his gaze to me, and before I knew what the hell he was doing, he leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you around, babe.”
I slid my hand into Ty’s and shuffled away from the train-wreck encounter before it could get any more embarrassing. On the way toward the dance floor, I glanced back, my drink still in hand, and smiled. “I never promised you a dance.”
“That top you’re wearing pretty much sealed it with a kiss, sweetheart.”
“So, now you’re asking me for a kiss?”
“Would that be so bad?” He tugged on my hand and jerked his head, leading me in a different direction. Up the staircase, to the second level overlooking the dance floor, where a slightly thinner crowd mostly talked around the scattered pedestal tables that sat closer to the walls.
“You have a thing for heights, huh?”
His smirk answered for him.
I let go of his hand, backing myself against the wall beside us, and toyed with the straw. “I’m so sorry for Dane. He’s … different.”
“You two dated?”
“Obvious, right?”
“The way he looked at me like he wanted to stab me in the throat?” Ty shrugged, looking over the crowd, and back to me. “A little.”
“He’s always been … psychotically jealous?” I sneered at what felt like an absolute understatement. If any guy so much as looked at me while we were dating, he’d be up in his face, threatening a fight. One of many reasons I’d quickly extinguished that relationship.
“He’s the reason you don’t date?”
I contemplated the question for a minute, and at the raise of his brow, I nodded and laughed. “Too much baggage. You’d be in security check for a while with me.”
“That’s where they strip you down in the airport and feel you up, right?”
“They have to be thorough, you know.”
“I appreciate thorough.” He stepped toward me, backing me tighter to the wall, until only a small gap separated us, and that intoxicating scent hit me again.
Jesus. The way he boxed me in sent alarms to my head, while simultaneously firing off bullets of excitement through my blood in a mishmash of mixed signals. “He’s definitely regrettable … ish,” I mumbled incoherently, trying to distract my brain from the deep, chiseled groove of muscles peeking through his T-shirt.
“Ish?” He dipped his head as if to guide my attention back to him.
“My mother told me never to have any regrets about anything. So I try not to. But if I did, that’s how I’d sum up my thoughts about him.”
Her words had such a profound effect on me that I’d gotten No Regrets tattooed on my back the moment I turned eighteen—one of many rebellious acts against my father.
“I see. So, what are your thoughts about me? What type of ish am I?”
Lowering my gaze, I attempted to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re intriguing… ish.” I chuckled and licked my lips, eyeing his drink. “What’s that?”
“Whiskey and Coke.”
A Lullaby remix by Niykee Heaton kept a seductive beat as, eyes on his, I leaned forward and sipped his drink. I watched his tongue glide along the edge of his teeth, until I released his straw.
“You trying to get me in trouble, Sera?” He set the drink down on the nearby pedestal table, along with mine, and seized my arms, wrapping them around his neck.
“I just wanted a taste.” I spoke in a small voice that didn’t feel like my own. Far more sultry than I’d ever been able to pull off, as if he’d somehow hypnotized me into being someone else.
Staring down at me, he allowed his hips to move to the rhythm of the music, and holy hell, he could dance. Like he’d stripped at some point in his life. In fact, I’d have been happy to take a seat and watch him for the next hour. “And do you like it?”
A loaded question, but one I had no problem entertaining. “Very much. I thought you couldn’t dance.”
The way he rolled his hips, beating against mine, told me sex with him would probably be unforgettable. Dirty and sweaty. The kind of sex that lasted all night, like those one-night stands women reminisced about when they got older and nothing seemed to measure up.
“I said I don’t dance. As a general rule. But just like that drink, I seem to break the rules when I’m around you.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I smiled, echoing his words from before.
“I can give you more than just a taste.” His words cast a shiver down my spine, the suggestion rendering me weak in the knees.
“I doubt that.”
Because surely the guy didn’t do relationships, and if he did, it would probably be with someone who matched him, someone who had way more experience in the club life. Not some nerdy Criminal Justice major, whose idea of a perfect weekend was sketching porn stills, binge reading romance novels, or watching all the Harry Potter movies.
If I had to guess, he probably got bored with the idea of the same girl every night.
He smirked, his hand gripping tight to the small of my back. “Just remember it’s on the table.”
I wanted to ask him why he was so forward with me, when Neveah claimed she’d had to coax him into making a move, but a part of me didn’t care. It was all for fun, nothing more. Just harmless flirting. And flirting never killed anyone.
His hand slid up my thigh, hiking it over his hip, positioning himself for deeper thrusts until the bulge in his jeans hit my pathetically neglected core.
His other hand slid along my arm, pinning me to the wall, hips circling against mine, and the telling hardness left me wondering if it was possible to orgasm while dry humping, because goddamn, it’d been way too long since anything other than my vibrator had knocked on that locked door. My whole body came alive, pleading for his lips and his hands, craving touch in a way I never had before.
“This is how we’d be. You and me.” The deep timber of his voice was just loud enough that he didn’t have to shout over the music, or maybe I’d just picked up on the vibrations it’d left in my chest, like Morse code through my body.
I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the others around us, who might bear witness to my false climax. “What happened to the other girl?”
Without answering, he gripped my waist and spun me around, so I faced the wall. His hands slid over my mid-section possessively, and that hardness in his jeans pressed into me from behind. A cold tingle skipped down my spine at the strength and command of his body.
Warm breath scattered across the back of my neck. “What other girl?”
“The one you wanted before,” I teased, and probably could’ve failed a Breathalyzer as lust drunk as I felt.
“I’m dancing with her.” His fingers snaked into mine, as the song slowed to an end, and he tugged me back against him, his strong arms enveloping me, making me feel small and delicate beside him.
An odd sensation swept over me, one I’d never entirely put much faith in, with as many times as I’d been burned in my life. A complete stranger, whose intentions I couldn’t even begin to tease out, had me feeling the kind of security that took years to build. As if I’d known him my whole life.
So wrong, my head battled, warning me not to get too caught up in the illusion. I’d been there before and knew all too well how fragile the threads of trust could be, how easily they could snap and flit out of reach. And the dark days that followed.
A buzz against my ass jerked me forward, and I tugged my phone from my back pocket, staring down at the text popped up on my screen.
An unknown number.
I want you back. Please. Don’t make me beg. Give me one more chance.
Dane.
“Fuck!” I wanted to chuck the phone against the wall. “I knew it wasn’t about an apology.” Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I wriggled out of Ty’s arms, the tension sliding back into my muscles. “Wish I knew how the hell the asshole got my number again.”
“Any guy who’s determined to have a woman will do whatever it takes.”
Stepping back toward the wall, I narrowed my eyes on him, taking in the casual tone of his voice and coolness of his words. “You sound like you get where he’s coming from.”
“All men have one thing in common. We’re natural-born hunters. And we love a good chase.”
“And women are what? Helpless prey?” Perhaps living with an artist feminist lesbian had gotten to me, but I didn’t like his implications. As if he were excusing Dane’s behaviors. Of course, I’d give him the benefit of not knowing the screwed up lengths my ex had gone to just to get me back, the crazy shit that probably should’ve landed him a restraining order, if not for his family name bailing him out every time.
“Some are.” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and traced his thumb down along my cheek to my jawbone, and, with a feather-light touch, across my throat. “But you’re different from most women.”
“How so?”
He stared down at my lips again, as if he might just kiss me. “You make a man question his purpose.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I echoed his words a second time.
A hint of a smile played on his lips.
I couldn’t get an accurate read on Ty. He seemed to run hot to cold to hot, with little transition in between. Coming on strong one minute, then retreating the next. And with every encounter, I found myself breaking my own rules around him. Really, what made him any different from Dane, the way he’d followed me to class and seemed insistent to see me again? And again. Although, to his credit, he knew to back off, and outside of Mama D’s, I hadn’t run into him much, like down a dark alley, or anything.
The strange push and pull with him left me confused, though. “I should go. I don’t want to get stranded again.”
“Yeah, you should.”
Push.
The moment he leaned forward, my instincts begged me to turn away from him, but I didn’t. I allowed him to press his lips to my cheek and slide them back to where he kissed the shell of my ear.
Pull.
“I’ll see you around, angel.” Fingers curled around my waist, he kicked me forward a step with his possessive grip, as if he might kiss me for real that time. His jaw clenched while his grasp of me softened, and he let go.
I’d never felt such a strange clash of emotions at once. Part of me wanted to fall into the illusion that we might just click together. The other, perhaps logical, half of my brain told me the attraction I felt toward him was solely based on his looks, and he’d surely break my heart. It was the same half that nagged me to question why someone so exciting and fearless would take such an interest in me—unless I happened to be some source of amusement for him.
He strode off into the crowd, leaving me standing there, pondering what might’ve happened if I’d stayed with him, instead. If I’d allowed him to take me back to his place, on the back of his bike, and let him fuck me until I couldn’t walk straight.
I knew the answer to that all too well.
I’d never see him again after that.
And I definitely wanted to see him again.
I made my way back down the staircase, catching sight of Bea and Simone scanning over the crowd, as though looking for me. They waved me over, and I told myself not to look for Ty, because I knew damned well if I saw him grinding on another woman, I’d surely be pissed about it.
Jealousy was a shameless bitch.
5
Jameson
Nine years ago …
The insufferable August heat beating through the window swelled my cheek, as I sat in the passenger seat of my dad’s Ford pickup, snacking on a small bag of McDonald’s fries. Bad enough school that started in a week, but we’d been hit by some hellacious wave of misery that truly sucked for those of us whose air conditioning happened to be on the fritz. My dad’s had bugged out a month ago, and he just didn’t have time to fix it. Only a faint whisper of cool air teased the layer of sweat beaded across my skin, but I didn’t want to complain.
“Sorry I didn’t grab a better dinner, Champ. I’m sure Jo will have something good cooked.”
My dad’s ex-girlfriend, JoAnne, was probably the closest I’d ever get to a real mom. She cooked, cleaned, and was happy to do just about anything for my dad, which was the one fatal flaw of their relationship. She wasn’t the stubborn, selfish woman who’d birthed me, and therefore would never live up to the bullshit pedestal my dad had placed her on. Even if he’d never admit that he still loved the woman who’d abandoned us.
“S’okay. I’m not that hungry, anyway.”
At fourteen, I was old enough to stay home alone, but the occasional gunshots we’d sometimes hear in our neighborhood kept him from taking any chances on the nights he worked late.
“You’re full of it. But that’s what makes you a good kid.” He ran his knuckles over the growing mop of hair atop my head. “Hoping to be back by midnight, if Ray lets me off a bit earlier. Second shift sucks, but they want the job finished this week.” He huffed, glancing out the window beside him. “Do me a favor, huh? Don’t get into construction, like your ol’ man. Find something that keeps you young.”
“Like what?” I hated that he had to work so hard to keep things going. Made me feel helpless sometimes, watching him kill the hours of his life in a thankless job that would one day take its toll on his body.
I once told him I’d quit school and come to work with him, to which he’d promptly told me he’d see hell freeze over before then. I maintained all A
’s at school, with perfect scores on all my math tests—a trait he always credited to my mom, for some reason. In my opinion, if she was so smart, she wouldn’t have gotten herself hooked on drugs. Of course, I’d never say that to him. He’d probably blame himself for her addiction, just like he blamed himself for her cheating.
“I dunno. Professional skateboarder. Highly-paid tree climber. Famous daredevil. Whatever you want. As long as you’re happy.” He slanted a smile back at me. “Just make sure you got good insurance. Having to fix your broken bones ain’t been cheap.”
With a snort, I unwrapped the flimsy cheeseburger from its greasy wrapper and shoved a bite into my mouth. “What’d you want to be?” I asked around a mouthful of food.
“Soldier. From the time I was about six years old.”
“Like Uncle Hank?”
Lips pressed to a hard line, he nodded. “Like Uncle Hank. But, actually, it was your grandpop that I looked up to. He was in Vietnam.”
A pause lingered between us, and I picked at the bun of my burger, carefully choosing the next words. “Why don’t you two talk anymore? I mean, you and Uncle Hank.”
He shook his head and hiked an elbow along the back of the torn leather gap that separated us. “Long story.”
“I couldn’t imagine not talking to Eli for years. It’d be weird.” Eli was JoAnne’s son and had been a brother to me since my dad met his mom when I was just eight years old. Having just turned fifteen, he was officially a year older than me, both of us abandoned by one of our parents. In his case, it was his father who’d walked out on their family, only to be thrown in prison shortly after.
Apparently, he’d visited his dad a few times, though I couldn’t begin to imagine why he’d bother. Fourteen years on, and I had no interest in looking for the mom who’d up and packed her shit, before walking out on my dad and me.
Maybe because I still had my dad, and he pretty much made up for two parents. I glanced out the window at the homeless lining the streets along Mount Elliot. We didn’t come from the best place, and I didn’t grow up with much. But for a teenage kid from Detroit, I was happy. I didn’t need much more than my dad.
