by Shey Stahl
“Nope.” I smile, looking around the bar and then back to him. Raising my beer to my lips, I keep my grin at bay. “Are you selling it?”
His caramel truffle eyes lock on mine, and he shakes his head, smirking. “Nope.”
His eyes drift south to my cleavage, which is on display for him. They linger there. Damn it, I know where this going. He’s wearing me down, and I can’t let myself go there. Not with him.
Deciding Tathan needs to know he can’t just have any woman he wants, I reach for my beer and begin to walk away, like I usually do in his presence. Only before I can get away, he grabs my arm.
“You know, I really wasn’t asking for the dance.” He laughs under his breath. “I was just being kind. I think you know I was demanding a dance.”
He’s confident, isn’t he? Goddamn it. Why is it so damn sexy when a man tells you how it’s going to be, rather than asking?
“I can’t dance,” I lie for the second time tonight. I pole dance with Jade on the days I don’t work out. If you’ve never tried it, I’m telling you now, it’s an amazing workout. So yeah—if pole dancing is considered dancing—I can dance.
“Amalie.” Tathan bends down so his lips tenderly graze my ear. He’s really trying to work the appeal he has and sadly, it’s done with little effort. He could melt a nun’s panties off just by glancing in her direction. He drags his hand down my back, stopping just above the curve of my ass and pushes my hips against his own. “Anyone can dance if they have someone to lead.”
Without giving me much time to hesitate, he leads us to the middle of the dance floor with a look on his face I absolutely hate, one that screams, you’re giving in to me.
I can’t help but notice all the dirty looks I receive from the women around me as I follow Tathan. I have to admit it. He’s one gorgeous man, and it’s no surprise he has women all over him.
My problem is I’m not that girl. I don’t melt over men anymore. I have a hard shell, and nothing’s cracking it. At least not this dude. Who the hell am I kidding? If this guy wanted to crack my shell, I’d spread out like a fried egg cooking over hot flames just waiting for him to bust my yoke.
Tathan suddenly stops in the middle of the dance floor turning around to face me and pulls me close with both hands on my hips. The motion has my breath spiking because he smells so good, and it’s doing nothing for my celibacy mission.
And that stare he gives me is doing nothing for it either. Keep this up, and I’m going to stumble in my resolve.
Like he’s going in for the kill, he raises his hand to touch the side of my face. “Don’t take those beautiful eyes off mine,” he orders me, and then he begins to move to the music, a gentle sway to his body.
Hell, imagine what he could do in bed.
Naturally, a rap song had to come on to make matters worse. “Shake” by Ying Yang Twins.
His eyes pause on me, visually measuring the distance between us. Leaning down, he pulls me flush against his body—wrapping my arms around his neck. I sink, right into his warm embrace.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me and, oh, is it nice. Like Christmas morning nice, exciting and comforting all at the same time. There’s just something about him that draws me in. Maybe it’s his unnervingly warm gaze and the somewhat ruggedness the beard gives him.
Briefly—as I try to stay composed—I forget what’s happening and enjoy myself, feel his warmth and the way his body moves with mine. He smells so good, strong arms, breath panting on my neck as I grind into him, and I never let my eyes leave his.
His body is strong everywhere my hands have the pleasure of roaming. I’m lost in his features, and those gorgeous eyes capture me.
Caught up in the moment, I decide then to show him I did in fact lie a little. I can dance. In another life, I think I was a professional dancer. Even Jade agrees I’ve got talent and she’s seen the best of the best in her game.
“Stop thinking so much,” Tathan whispers in my ear, sensing my mind is elsewhere. “Dancing is supposed to make you feel sexy.”
Oh, I’ll show you just how sexy I can be, buddy.
Turning, I shove my ass into him.
When my backside comes in contact with his crotch, he lets out a very audible gasp and clutches me tighter to him without an inch of space between us.
It’s apparent right then what I do to him. It’s pressing into my ass. Part of me wants to grin, the other part wants to cringe because I can’t for the life of me understand why I’m doing this. We continue to dance like this for the rest of the five-minute song.
When it’s over, he roughly turns me around and whispers a throaty “Thanks” in my ear and lets go of me.
I don’t look at him. Hello, I was just grinding my ass on his erection for a few minutes, and I’m kind of embarrassed to say my panties are a tad damp. I decide it’s time to get away from him before I do something I’m going to regret. Coming here was a bad idea, and I need a more thought-out plan with actual steps or a checklist for Christ’s sake before I’m around Tathan again.
Only, before I can get away from him, his hands are on mine, and he’s pulling me back toward him. “Don’t leave.” When I pull away, he shakes his head, seeming disappointed. “Have a beer with me.”
“N-no,” I stutter out, not sure how to deal with someone like him. Especially since I’m beginning to see he’s nothing like I thought he was. “I need to go home.”
He’s frowning at my denial and doesn’t say anything. I automatically shift my eyes to his, wanting to see his reaction to my words.
He tips his head, eyes on the bar and then back to mine. “Why? Needing to get home isn’t an excuse. Either you don’t want to, or you’re just avoiding me.”
When I stare at him, I understand there’s more to this guy than him being a manwhore, but I don’t want to see that.
There are certain types of guys out there. The ones you know are just looking for a good time and will take it when it’s there, no matter what the repercussions might be.
Then there are the ones who want to have a good time, but have morals. From what I can tell, Tathan is the latter, the one with morals. He has honest eyes, ones that can’t hold lies within them.
“I don’t. . . want to.” I start to walk away when a hand reaches out for me.
“Why not?”
“Because. You’re not the kind of guy I need to get wrapped up with.” I stare at the floor, anywhere but his eyes, because the idea of being wrapped up with him physically is exactly where I want to be.
As our hands part, my body denied his warmth, I don’t look back. I can’t. If I do, I’ll run back into his arms and beg him to find the nearest bathroom stall with me.
Completely oblivious to anyone around them, Zane and Casey are dancing. They won’t even notice me leaving.
I sneak one last look at Tathan. He’s standing by the bar with Aldon, confusion plastered on his face, but there’s something more. Let down. Damn it. He’s too pretty for that face, but I’m too flawed to change it.
Once inside my car, the same song we just danced to is playing on my car radio.
Great. Now I have to hate this song.
With an exaggerated flip of my hand, I turn it off and make the drive back to my apartment in complete silence, though my mind is far from silent. I’m replaying every detail of that dance and why it was important to stay far away from Tathan.
Once again, I walk to my apartment barefoot; the three-inch heels were a bad idea. When I open the door, Oliver is there waiting for his walk.
Reaching for his leash, he wiggles to the point his tail touches his ears. “Come on, boy.” He’s eager and jumping all over me, sharp claws scratching at my bare legs.
There’s one bad thing about having a puppy. Well, there are a few, but the one at the top of my list: they require maintenance and walking at all hours of the night. And for a girl like me—one scared of the dark—this is not easy. These are the times when I wish he was a cat
so I could get him to use a litter box. Not knowing much of anything about raising a dog on my own, I actually tried to get him to use a litter box. It was a disaster. He ate the litter like it was dog food and then promptly threw it all back up and spent the next three hours in the vet ER as I thought I poisoned him.
Outside, he paces the same patch of lawn he usually pees on, as if he’s trying to find the only spot he hasn’t peed on yet this week. It’s then I’m looking around at my surroundings and wishing I would have brought something to defend myself with should I be attacked. It’s not like Oliver could protect me. He’s barely ten pounds and licks people to death.
Fear pricks my skin, as it usually does when I’m outside at night. Within a minute, I break out in a cold sweat. I don’t know what it is that freaks me out. Maybe too many horror movies? “Come on, Oliver! Will you just pee already?”
Oliver looks up at me, sad I yelled at him. Poor baby. He didn’t deserve that.
I kneel to his level. “Look, Mommy is really sorry, but you need to pee, buddy. It’s late, and I’m barely wearing anything.”
Phoenix isn’t exactly the safest city, and when I’m out here this late at night, well, I get scared.
“Hey, baby!” A man whistles from behind. “Nice dog.”
Yeah right. Like he’s looking at my dog with this dress on.
Oliver growls as the man passes by, his fur all riled up and standing on end. He doesn’t like men. At all.
The man gets past us and whistles. “I wasn’t talking about the dog, honey.”
Yeah, you’re so obvious.
“Eat a dick, asshole.” The nerve of some people. Picking up Oliver, I rush to my apartment.
The entire way upstairs, Oliver barks at nothing, like he’s protecting me by making so much noise.
“You should have peed.” I set Oliver down once we get up the stairs and he wiggles like I’m rewarding him, because I spoke to him.
It’s amazing that no matter what I say, he wiggles.
At the end of the hall, Tathan’s unlocking his door. The sound of my wiggly, still barking dog, slides his attention my way.
Like a scene out of Dirty Dancing, he turns and looks over at me, leaning into his door frame holding his keys in the palm of his hand. His black shirt is unbuttoned a little more from what it was at the club, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol in him and I must say, he has me staring at him once again.
They shouldn’t make them as pretty as him.
Tathan glances at Oliver and then slides his stare to mine again. “I didn’t get to thank you before you rushed out, but thanks for the dance.”
Smiling to myself, I don’t say anything to him as I unlock my own door, my hands shaking in the process, remembering in detail the way his breath felt against my skin.
That’s when I hear the faint sounds of water and look back.
I shit you not, Oliver is peeing on Tathan’s doormat, and then runs back to his mommy.
Should I reward him?
Tathan squints down at the doormat and then at me again, and says nothing.
I get my door open, Oliver trots in, completely satisfied with himself.
What the hell do I say? Should I apologize?
When I don’t say anything, Tathan gives me a big forced grin, steps over the puddle and inside his apartment and closes the door. Not a single word.
Shit. He’s pissed.
Inside my apartment, Oliver is sitting on the couch watching me, probably wondering if he’s going to get yelled at or given a treat.
I rub his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He has no idea what I’m saying. By his wiggles, once again he thinks I’m rewarding him, and I’m not sure I’m not rewarding him.
Sitting next to him, my phone buzzes so I glance at it in my lap. It’s a message from Casey, and then another from Zane, but I don’t read any of them. They’re used to me ignoring their messages. Instead, I cuddle with Oliver and think of ways to make this plan of mine work. You know, the one where I need to make Tathan miserable and not dance with him. Or look at him. Or talk to him.
And now I need to buy him a new doormat. I’m too nice of a person not to.
“I could just give him one of those pee-mats I set down for you when I’m at work,” I say to Oliver, considering doing just that. “Just in case you feel the need to pee on his doorstep again.”
I chuckle at myself, thinking I’m funny. Oliver doesn’t say anything, but cocks his head with his left ear flopped back. I reach over straightening out his ear. “I’m funny, right?”
He barks as if to say, “Yes, Mommy, you are.”
What’s not funny is that I’m here with my dog, talking to him all about my problems.
Everyone wonders why I am this way. And by everyone, I’m talking about Casey and Zane. They know what my deal is, but they wish I’d give someone else a chance instead of letting one guy ruin it all.
Everyone has a deal. A reason as to why they are the way they are.
Mine?
Colton Enning.
I briefly told you about him. We started dating my junior year of high school. Everything was great. We were both on the swim team and had that passion for swimming that drew us together. And if anyone could pull off the speedo look, it was certainly Colton. We even went to college together, both on scholarships for swimming.
And then—just three months into my freshman year at Arizona State—my dad was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. I had no other family, my mother died when I was just a baby, so I dropped out of school to help him.
Colton and I started drifting apart almost immediately. It was just a year into my dad’s treatment when they found out the cancer had spread throughout his body and his brain. I knew it was the end. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to give up.
Needing comfort one afternoon, I went to campus to see Colton.
Distant girlfriend, college boyfriend needing his own comfort. . . . You can pretty much guess the scene I was met with.
Walked in on him getting a blow job from his roommate’s girlfriend. While he begged and pleaded and told me, “Babe, it’s not what it looked like,” it’s kind of hard to deny it when your dick’s in another woman’s mouth. My final assessment? He’s a douchebag, and I deserved better. Weeks later, I found out he’d been cheating on me for well over a year.
My dad made it another six months before he passed away.
After that, I swore off men entirely. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t need the lying bastards in my life.
Sure, I had a few one-night stands—one absolutely amazing on Halloween last year—and the others not so much. Now I was just trying to stay away from the ones I knew would break my heart. Relationships just weren’t my thing anymore.
Casey always tells me, “Don’t let Colton spoil it all,” but he ultimately did. He really did. The saying “one bad apple ruins the whole bunch” sort of mentality. I loved him more than anything at the time, and when I needed him, he wasn’t there for me and did the inconceivable.
Certainly, that wasn’t going to be easy for me to move on from. It’s been two years and I still can’t.
The next morning, I get up super early to work out, swing by Target and get a doormat for Tathan, and then replace it.
It’s finally Friday, and while I’m excited for the weekend, caffeine needs to happen before I can even think about getting through the day. I know I said I spend most of my day getting coffee orders, but I need it myself, only I’m not about to drink the crap I serve the assholes at work.
My usual stop on the way to work is a small café in Scottsdale that serves the most amazing, creamy mochas you’ll ever taste in your life. There’s always a line out the door, and their chocolate croissants are easily a pastry I will stab you for. Which is why I work out every morning because there’s like a thousand calories in it. Not really, but I’m sure it’s pretty close to that.
Giggles and sighs catch my attention at the count
er in front of me once I make it through the outside line and finally in the building.
When I peek around the crowd, I see the cashier is paying way too much attention to her current customer, and she just slipped him her number written on the outside of his coffee cup.
How tacky can you be? What’s wrong with women these days? They throw themselves at men and expect them to have respect for them. How? They see the way you act and figure they can get away with that too.
“Seriously, some people need to get to work. This isn’t eHarmony, speed it up, assholes,” I say, loud enough for her and her current eye candy to hear me.
As Zane would say, she’s clearly missing the olive in her martini judging by the way she keeps tossing her platinum blonde hair around.
If she keeps that shit up, her brain will fall out with all the whipping she’s doing. And then she won’t be able to make my coffee, and that will really piss me off.
The man at the counter turns to face me—he definitely heard what I said. That’s when I see his profile, and I smile to myself. Of all the fucking luck. Can you guess who it is?
You’re probably right. But if not, it’s Tathan standing there in all his morning glory with his next harem girl drooling over his appearance. Goddamn, but he looks good first thing in the morning. All bright-eyed and cheery, but still pulling off the manly ruggedness. His smile widens when he notices me, and suddenly, he’s the only one in the building I can make eye contact with, his presence captivating.
I’m smiling, not only because he is, but also because I interrupted his love connection with the barista, and it makes me extremely happy to know I broke it up. Sadistic I know.
Tathan gives me a once-over, a thorough glance up and down my body, and I suddenly feel very self-conscious, even though I am far from that. I know I have a great body because I work damn hard for it—despite the mocha and chocolate croissants—and I’m not the type of girl who gets self-conscious. If you don’t like my booty and size C tits, fuck off. I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?
His jaw tightens, and he turns back to the barista and whispers in her ear. Apparently not hearing what she wants, she shoots me a dirty look and turns around to write something down. What the fuck did I do to her? See, this is the problem with chicks. They’re so fucking moody and catty. Just because he looked at me, she suddenly hates me and will more than likely not warm my damn croissant to the perfect temperature like I like it.
