Second Chance (Chances #2)

by BJ Harvey

  “Ross Corp,” Millen replies.

  Bruno whistles, expelling a breath as his eyes widen. “Nice. So you’re no stranger to hospitality and entertainment then?”

  “Nope,” Millen replies with a laugh. He lifts his beer bottle and takes a swig to finish it. He gives Kenzie’s leg a gentle squeeze. “You want another?” He turns towards me. “How about you, Gaby?”

  His eyes are warm, but not in a sexy way. Not to me, anyway. Instead, I catch Bruno’s soft gaze. His brown eyes are soft and warm and definitely seductive. In fact, they’re hot in a ‘get naked and take me now’ way. Damn, I could get used to that look.

  Wait. No, I’m not looking to get used to anything I think I might be reading in his look. A slight quirk of his lips brings my focus to his mouth. Back away from the hot guy.

  “Gabs?” Kenzie asks, bumping me with her elbow.

  “Ah yep, sure,” I reply, breaking from Bruno’s stare to look back up at Millen, whose brow lifts but who—thankfully—doesn’t call me on it.

  An hour later when the guys go downstairs to play a few games of pool, the girls and I follow, all of us taking seats at the bar and watching them from across the room.

  “So, Millen . . .” Sam says, waggling her eyebrows at Kenzie.

  “Mmm hmm,” Dalyn adds, all of the group’s attention now fixed on my best friend.

  “It’s good. He’s good. It’s um . . . good?” Kenzie replies, a sly grin playing on her lips.

  “I wish I had good,” I mutter.

  “It’s been a while since there’s been anyone good in my life too. You should ask him if he has any hot friends,” Sam says with a laugh.

  Kenzie’s eyes dart to me, pleading to be saved. Unfortunately for her, I welcome the distraction from the thoughts swirling around my head; from the looks Bruno keeps giving me to the way I feel watching him bend over the pool table to take a shot. Seeing the way his jeans frame his ass to perfection has me internally debating the consequences of breaking my rule when it comes to fraternizing with workmates. “Yes, Kenzie. Tell us just how good Millen is,” I say.

  “I have a better idea. Tell the girls about your date, Gabs. I think we all need to hear why you haven’t told us about Greg,” Kenzie says, throwing me under the bus.

  I shake my head at her, not missing her deflection but knowing I need to take one for the team to save her from her own interrogation. “I misread the guy from the get-go. My douchebag-detector must have been on the fritz because he didn’t even wait for the mains to come out before asking whether the carpet matched the drapes.”

  A collective gasp echoes from the bar, catching the attention of the guys. Of course I catch Bruno’s amused expression. There’s no doubt he just heard what I said, if his twitching lips are anything to go by.

  “Yep. Apparently he’d been thinking about it since he picked me up.”

  “What a dick,” Sam says, stating the obvious.

  “Bet you didn’t let that one slide,” Kenzie muses.

  My lips quirk up. “Nope.” I take a swig from my beer. “I told him even he would need to be drunk to touch himself later.”

  “Oh my god,” Sadie says with a gasp.

  Sam nods in approval. “You go girl

  “Then Bruno dropped me home,” I add, bringing the story—and hopefully the topic of conversation—to completion.

  “What?” Kenzie asks, her head jerking back. “How did that happen?”

  I shrug. “He was there; I was there. I asked him if he’d drop me home. Right place, right time, I guess.”

  Kenzie studies me, and I all but see her brain working. This is the problem with being best friends with the woman for most of my life: she knows me too well.

  A cheer erupts from the guys’ corner of the bar, grabbing the girls’ attention, saving me from further questions from everyone other than Kenz, of course.

  She leans closer, lowering her voice so only I can hear. “Is this something we need to talk about?”

  “The date?” I whisper.

  “The date. The ride home. Anything?”

  “Nope,” I reply with a laugh, accentuating the P as I again catch Bruno watching me. His eyes are heated, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips as he slides his eyes down to my mid-thigh-level skirt and bared legs before returning to my face.

  Damn. For a man of few words he just said a hell of a lot with that look. Maybe I should assuage my curiosity and let myself have one night to get to ‘know’ the man. Maybe if I do, then I can put him back in the ‘workmate and off-limits’ box I’d inadvertently put him in before.

  Don’t screw the crew—who came up with that stupid rule? Because right now all I want to do is climb the man like a tree and not let go again till morning.

  Sadie and Dalyn are the last to leave, waving goodbye as they move through the front door, the lock clinking closed behind them. The rough glide of the deadbolt soon follows, leaving Bruno and I as the last two here. Having tidied up the bar, I turn around to grab my purse from the staff drawer. When I straighten I meet his blazing eyes and I’m forced to purse my lips to stifle the moan lingering on my tongue. Be cool, Gabs.

  His gaze is heated. No, it’s more than that—it’s scorching. Every step he takes towards me has my body tingling. It may be the uneven ratio of beer to food in my system but standing here watching him, I fight the urge to take a running jump at the man.

  “Gabs, do you need a ride?”

  I wonder what he’d look like without that shirt.

  “Gabs?”

  I jerk my head up. “Huh?”

  “I asked if you needed a ride home?”

  I must’ve been too lost in the myriad of fantasy scenarios working their way through my sex-deprived brain to register what he was saying.

  “I’d like a ride,” I murmur to myself before I register what I said.

  His eyes dip to my chest. Figuring two can play this game, I take the time to study him as well.

  “Gabs?” Now his voice is husky. Yum.

  “Mmm. . .” I say. He leans into the bar, bracing his big—most likely very capable—hands on the wood. Instinctively, I mirror his stance like a magnet drawn to its mate. It’s like neither of us can stop whatever—or whoever—is coming. I’m not fussed either way.

  “Fuck,” he swears, low and rough and definitely not helping the slow-burning ache I’m feeling right now. “You’re making it hard to be a gentleman, Gabs.”

  He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, drawing my attention to his mouth. I want him. I need him. All the heated glances between us throughout the night have had my body humming and I’m nearing breaking point. Something’s got to give, and right now I’m hoping it’s Bruno that’s in a giving mood.

  “Why do that when taking what you want is a lot more fun?” I ask. There’s no missing the invitation. I always say what I mean and mean what I say. When it comes to sex, there’s no point in beating around the bush.

  In a flash, one of his hands wraps around my neck and his mouth is on mine, our teeth banging, our lips opening, our tongues meeting as he thrusts into my mouth. For a first kiss—one I’ve fantasied about what seems like a million times lately—it feels like the last. One that I’ll forever measure future kisses against.

  A surge of raging heat courses through me, and it’s as if I can’t get close enough to him. The rough pads of his hands brand my skin, leaving me wanting everything he could ever give me, making me hunger everything he’ll ever let me take.

  I lift up on my toes and hitch a knee up on the counter to get closer to him, deepening the kiss. He has other ideas though, because as soon as my hands grab his shoulders he lifts me up and over, swinging my entire body across the bar and into his arms. My answering squeak is muted by his mouth devouring mine, and all I can do is wrap my legs around his hips and hold on.

  I slide my fingers into his hair, gripping his head and holding it in place as he carries me through the bar and i
nto the hallway. A door opens and we’re on the move again, the only sounds my heavy breathing, the click of the lock, and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. This is hot and reckless and totally addictive. Now I need to make it worth it because it’s only ever going to be a one-time deal. One chance to get all of this pent-up lust for the man out of my system so that things can go back to normal.

  He presses my back against a wall, slowly lowering me to my feet. I frame his jaw and meet him stroke for stroke as his hands roam my body, one gliding around my stomach and up to cup my breast, the other gripping my ass and pulling my hips hard against his. I want to get down on my knees and taste every inch of the man. I want to make him drop his wall and show me the wild side beneath the cool veneer.

  Before I can put my plan into action, he breaks the kiss and drags his lips down, raking his teeth along my neck. I whimper when he finds the sensitive spot at the curve of my shoulder and draws the skin into his mouth, making my limbs tighten around him. I hook my leg around his hip, grinding against him, relishing in the guttural groan that escapes him.

  “I want to hear you scream, Gabs. I want to taste you on my tongue as I slip it deep inside you.”

  I open my mouth to reply with something witty and smartass-ish but am left speechless when he drops to his knees and tugs my skirt to my waist. Then his face is there, his lips latching on to my clit through my silk thong. He sucks deep, and flicks his tongue over me. His hands grip my ass, preventing any escape from his most welcome assault. Then his fingers join the party and I swear I hear the “Hallelujah” chorus fill the room as he pulls my underwear aside and I get my first skin-on-skin experience with the wonder that is Bruno; his mouth, his lips, his teeth, his tongue, and then his fingers parting me and slowly sliding inside. I can do nothing but drop my head back, put my hands on his head, and take whatever ride he’s going to give me. I lift my leg and curl it around the back of his head and give in to the sensation.

  “Fuck, you’re hot. You’re gonna let me do whatever I want to you, aren’t you? You’ll hold me to you and make me take whatever you’re willing to give me too,” he growls against my core.

  Holy shit. The strong, silent type has a dirty fucking mouth. My kryptonite.

  Any retort I might’ve had is lost when the thumb of his other hand drifts around the back of my thigh and in, pressing against my ass. My mind scrambles, trying to stay focused on what his mouth is doing—no, his fingers sliding inside me—no, the tip of his thumb gently breaching me. I tighten my grip on his hair and grind harder against him, needing this to end yet never wanting it to stop.

  “You’re going to come all over my face, then I’m going to kiss you with your taste on my tongue, leave you wanting me to drive my cock so deep inside you that you won’t know where I stop and you begin.”

  Any willpower I might’ve had to ride this out for as long as I could is no match for the combination of his tongue flicking, his fingers gliding inside me, and his thumb becoming the cherry on top. My climax hits me like a freight train barreling at full speed, impossible to stop even if I wanted to.

  Bruno brings me back down to earth with a care I’ve come to expect from him. His grip grows gentle and his movements slow until my fingers are no longer fisting his hair. With the softest brush of his lips against the inside of my thigh, he glides his body up mine as he stands. Then he’s kissing me hard and heavy, the intensity sending a thrill straight through me and stirring me up all over again. My need for him is still as strong as ever. I deepen the connection and rub my sex against his denim-covered cock.

  Dragging his mouth along my jaw, he drops his head to rest on my shoulder. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, Gabs,” he says roughly, turning to press his lips to my neck, “but when I sink my cock inside you for the first time, I want it to be in a bed where I can take my time. Over . . .” He lifts back up and touches his mouth to mine while grinding his erection into me, “and over again.” He sinks his teeth into my bottom lip and takes it with him as he pulls back.

  Breathless, my name is Gaby. Speechless? That’s me, too.

  Hoping I’m soon to be literally fucked to within an inch of insanity? Hell yes I am.

  Let’s just hope I survive the drive home.

  Sometime after we leave the bar I must fall asleep because I wake up in my bed in the morning, the only thing beside me is a note from the man himself.

  Rain check.

  Chapter 4

  Well this is awkward.

  That’s what my brain screams at me from the minute Bruno walks into the bar two nights later for his shift, giving me a chin-lift before disappearing down the back corridor.

  I’m not one to be lost for words, but what do you say to the guy who had his head between your legs and his thumb in your ass the last time you saw him? Let alone one who left you a note on your pillow calling for a rain check?

  He said he was trying to be a gentleman, and that damn note he left proves he’s a man of his word. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been fixated on what will come next since I found it. In fact, the piece of paper is currently stuck on my refrigerator, haunting me every time I go into the kitchen.

  But a chin lift? What does that mean? It’s like nothing happened. I would’ve believed I’d imagined it if it hadn’t been for the delicious ache between my legs the next morning. The ache of a back-bending orgasm, the need for a repeat performance.

  When Bruno returns to the bar, I try not to give him any attention. Why should his nonchalance bother me so much when I was the one who told myself it would be a one-time thing? I had my carefree moment and now it’s time to put the experience behind me and put the long-held rule of mine back in place. No dating. Nothing more than a bit of fun.

  It was fun. It was fucking amazing. It’s now done.

  Time to move on.

  But then again . . . ‘rain check’ . . .

  I’m looking down, polishing glasses when his chest fills my peripheral vision. “Gaby,” he says softly—warmly, even—standing on the opposite side of the bar from me.

  I glance up and shoot him a firmly platonic smile. “Hey.”

  Then I return back to the apparently riveting task at hand. For a woman who’s rarely without words, I can’t think of anything else to say that won’t seem forward. Especially when I don’t know whether the note was a brush-off, a promise he plans to fulfil, or something else entirely I haven’t neurotically pinpointed yet.

  What is wrong with me? It’s like he’s scrambled my brain with a flick of his tongue and the tip of his thumb in my—

  “Did you sleep well the other night?” he asks, breaking my train of thought as he leans into the bar. Hands that I was correct in assuming he could do—and indeed did do—amazing things.

  “Yep,” I reply, grinning. Why am I smiling? Why can’t I be a cold bitch who isn’t affected by a guy that made her scream a high C?

  It was an itch. He scratched it. He took a rain check to scratch it again. Given my behavior around the man lately, I think it’s safer not to.

  Silence stretches between us, so much so I put the glass in my hand down and brace my arms on the bar as I meet Bruno’s eyes. We stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of us budging from this stalemate we’ve found ourselves in.

  “Guess I have my answer about the rain check then,” he says flatly.

  Say what now? What did I just miss?

  “What do you mean? How am I supposed to know what the note meant when I haven’t heard from you in two days, and you walked through the door tonight like everything was exactly the same as it was before you felt the need to leave that note.”

  “Just forget about it, Gabs.”

  “What answer?”

  He looks to the other end of the bar where Mark is serving a customer before pinning me in place with an unreadable stare. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not ready for what that note meant,” he replies, looking directly at me. Why is his matte
r-of-fact tone affecting me so much?

  “Bruno, I—”

  He dips his head closer. “Maybe you missed the memo, but when I said I hadn’t let you know me, that was me stating an intention. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to let someone in. I thought we’d started down that path Sunday night, something that note on your pillow should’ve told you I was interested in pursuing.”

  “Let me get this straight. You thought a note saying ‘rain check’ would communicate that to me?” I splutter, not believing my ears.

  “Shit. No. I mean . . . no, Gaby. That’s not what it meant.”

  Too little too late, buddy. “Well let’s avoid any confusion then, shall we? We had a good time. I fell asleep, and that saved us a world of complication in the long run.”

  His brows lift then narrow as he straightens and takes a step back. “Right. That’s settled then. Good to know we avoided any complications.” His expression is cutting, the disappointment in his eyes hurting me more than I care to admit. My heart pounds in my chest, my palms starting to sweat as I try to wrap my head around how this situation just went from weird to worse, and why a part of me I thought was dead and buried aches a little bit.

  With a final knock of his knuckle on the bar and a nod, he spins around and walks towards his post at the front door, suddenly all business.

  The rest of the night is a blur of broken glasses, screwed up tabs, and messed up orders. Kenzie seems relieved to sign me out and send me home at the end of my shift.

  “Whatever crawled up your ass tonight, please work it out. You’re my best friend and I love you, but much more of this and Joe will be asking who the newbie is.”