He grabs the beer and puts the neck to his lips. The liquid runs down his throat, and I don’t know why, but it’s insanely sexy.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, not wanting to admit my bad behavior. I lower my head, and place my hand over his. “Thank you. Again.” I chuckle, hoping he accepts my pathetic apology.
“No big deal.” He slams the rest of his beer and stands up. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He walks past me and out the door.
What the fudge was that? Apparently, it is a big deal. I spend the rest of my night serving drunks as I think about him. I attempt to push his name out of my head, but Eric Eric Eric…craptastic.
“Let’s watch a movie.” Carissa walks up behind me and wraps her arm around me. “I’m in the mood for something…erotic.” She giggles as I cringe at the way she rolls the word erotic. She knows I don’t like those movies, yet she insists on it every time.
“What is it this time? Cruel Intentions 1, 2, or 3?” I ask as we walk to our cars. She’s made me watch all three at least a dozen times.
“Let’s make it interesting.” She pretends like she’s thinking deeply. “One. I could use some Ryan Phillippe in my life.” She smiles. We reach our cars and say our goodbyes, even though we’re heading back to the same apartment.
CHAPTER 3
“Sweet baby Jesus, this movie turns me on.” Carissa fans herself as she lusts over Ryan Phillippe. She’s wearing shorts and a sports bra that make me envious of her naturally petite body. I know I shouldn’t complain, but being an athlete, my body is toned with solid calves.
“I don’t get it,” I groan. “How can a man sleep with so many women? Disgusting.” I stick my tongue out at her as she continues to drool.
“When you look as smexy as he does, you can do whatever the hell you want!” she retorts playfully. She grabs another handful of popcorn and shoves it in her mouth.
“Smexy?” I cross my hand over her lap and scoop a handful for myself.
“Smart and sexy. And he is definitely that.”
“What makes him smart?” I ask, shoving more popcorn in my mouth.
“His glasses.” I glare at her and she bursts out laughing. “He was one of the hottest actors in the 90’s. I’d trade places with Reese Witherspoon any day just to grab a piece of that meat.”
“Dear bejesus…you have sex on the brain 24/7.” I adjust my body as I get a cramp from sitting. “No wonder you’re so feisty.”
“Hey, men like feisty! If you’d ever give a man a chance, maybe you wouldn’t be so…pleasure deprived.” She bumps my elbow and lowers her brows to me.
I cough out a few pieces of popcorn. “My pleasure is none of your concern.”
“We’re roommates, Lane. Trust me, it’s my business. Especially since you’re not getting any!” She throws a kernel at me as I scowl.
“How did we get on the topic of my sex life?”
“Because you need to get one.” She looks at me and says, “I love you, Lane. But I’m worried about you.”
“Oh, good gravy…here we go,” I sigh. She is always lecturing me about my lack of interest in random hookups with men.
We continue to banter until Sarah Michelle Gellar’s diary is photocopied and released to the entire student body. Ryan’s character dies, and no matter how many times we watch it, Carissa still cries like a baby.
“I’m tired,” I whine, dragging my legs out from underneath me. Sirens scream through the open windows, pulling me from the couch. “That sounds close.”
Carissa leans out the window and spots the fire trucks on our street. There’s a restaurant on the corner that looks to be in flames.
“Holy shit! That looks bad! Let’s go down and watch,” Carissa exclaims as she searches for her shoes. I peek out the window and notice the street is filled with smoke and ash. I think of Eric, and I wonder if he’s there right now.
I shut the window, find some shoes and grab my sweatshirt as I walk out the door with Carissa. The elevator lowers us to the first floor, where other residents and neighbors are all standing. Smoke obscures the view outside, but Carissa grabs my hand and pulls me out the door anyway.
“Oh my God!” she squeals. “Cover your mouth,” she orders as she pulls her shirt over her nose. I do the same and continue to walk behind her.
There’s a line of police tape cordoning off part of the street. People are lined up behind it, watching as firefighters enter the building. Apartment residents of the adjacent buildings are being rushed out. Some are being treated for smoke inhalation and others are standing nearby, crying.
Carissa closes in and wraps her arm around me. “I’m sure he’s okay.” I don’t ask who she’s talking about, because I already know. Eric has a dangerous job, and knowing he risks his life for a paycheck is unsettling.
We watch firefighters exit the building one at a time. They’re all in full uniform, so I can’t tell if Eric is one of them or not. I’m not sure why I feel this rush of concern for him. My gut wrenches as I think about our last encounter. It was only a few hours ago, but I feel horrible for letting him leave like he did.
I lift my head toward the smoke that has taken over the sky when a body collides with me from behind. His hand grazes my chest, and I immediately jab my elbow in his gut. Only it’s not a gut. It’s hard, solid and stings my elbow. I move away to get a better look at my boob grabber. He’s leaned over, clenching his stomach. A dark hoodie makes it hard to see his face.
“What the fuck?” Carissa shouts next to me as she notices what just happened. “Don’t touch her, you motha-fuckin’ perv!”
I stand there speechless as his head finally rises high enough for me to see those emerald eyes. His frown tells me he’s in pain and shocked that I elbow punched him.
“Eric?” I ask, leaning down to get a better look at him. “What are you doing?”
“Holy crap, you have an arm for such a little thing.” He stands up and rubs his stomach. He’s wobbly and can barely stand straight.
“Are you drunk?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Explains why he isn’t in uniform at least.
“I don’t get drunk. I get happily wasted.” He smiles a crooked line and leans an arm over my shoulders. “What are you pretty ladies doing down here? Trying to find another firefighter to save you?” He looks at me and winks.
“Gross, no. I was worried about you,” I confess, and immediately regret saying it.
“You were worried about me, sweetheart? Well, aren’t you a doll.” He smirks and squeezes my shoulder with his hand. I don’t like that he’s having this effect on me. It’s foreign, and doesn’t make any sense to me. However, it’s there. The tingles that rise between my thighs, the butterflies in my stomach—as Carissa calls them—and the ever-noticeable heart thumping.
“Baby!” a woman’s voice squeals behind us. “Baby, what are you doing out here?” I turn to see a blonde haired, long-legged woman wearing only a long t-shirt and sandals.
Eric spins and smiles widely. “Nadia, baby!” he slurs. Ugh, I hate drunk people.
“Come back to bed. It’s cold without you,” she whines, pressing her body against his. His hands go right to her bottom and squeeze. I watch as the two make out right in front of us and I start seeing red. I’m instantly jealous and even angrier that I’m jealous.
“Who’s your skank?” Carissa asks from behind me, crossing her arms.
“Girls, this is Nadia. Baby, this is…” he stumbles. “Oh shit, sweetheart, what’s your name again?” he looks at me and asks. Are you freaking kidding me? Why is he acting like such a jack-hole?
“Funny.” I roll my eyes, mostly to keep the tears in as I walk back to the apartment. If I swore at all, this would be the moment when swear words from A-Z would be screamed.
Carissa catches up to me and links her arm in mine. We walk into the elevator and silently back into our apartment. She doesn’t say anything, but she looks at me intently.
She swallows and asks, “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, knowing exactly why. I just didn’t know she knew how I felt. Perhaps it was obvious…except to him.
“Honey, you can’t pretend with me. I see sex written all over your hungry pussy. You have a thing for him. In fact, I think you have it bad. So bad, in fact, you don’t even want to admit it.” She’s stern, looking me dead in the eyes.
“Ugh, fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “Why do I have to like him, Riss? He’s a firefighter—a hot firefighter. Girls are probably all over him all the time. Firefighter—sexy…sweet…charming…and he has a freaking Texas accent! I mean, c’mon! I have no chance,” I ramble, pacing back and forth in the living room. She’s watching me, smirking as if she knows something I don’t.
“Lane, you need to calm the fuck down. That boy down there—the one with the skank—has the fucking hots for your ass. Only you’re too blind to see it. That skank means nothing, anyway. I can tell.” She smiles as if she’s the queen of intuition.
“Oh, and how can you tell?” I ask, switching directions. “You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know how you would know something like that.”
“I can read people, Lane, a-mazingly well.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I walk into my room, shutting the door behind me and crawl under my sheets, squeezing my eyes shut.
* * *
The sun shines through my window, waking me up. I feel energized and decide to go for a run. Peeking my head out the window, I see that the street is still blocked off. The smoke has subsided, but there’s ash everywhere.
As my feet hit the pavement, the cool air hits my face. My hair is pulled up and swings back and forth as my pace gets faster. I take a different route today, hoping the change of scenery puts me in a better mood.
I run to clear my head; it opens my mind. I let out all my frustration, rage, and regrets. I run until I can’t run anymore. I soon spot the apartment a block away and sprint the rest of the way. My arms are swinging, my legs thumping on the ground, and sweat is dripping in my eyes. Almost there…
I round the corner just before my building and smack right into something—or someone—hard. Shizzwad that hurts! I immediately fall to my butt, and before I can put my hands out to support myself, my head falls back and smacks the pavement.
I pull my hands to my head as I wince at the abrupt pain. The sun is no longer shining over me as I hear a man’s voice. “Oh God, are you okay, Velaney?” His voice is familiar, and I immediately know who it is. Why does this keep happening to me?
He kneels down and tells me to make slow movements. I nod in an effort to let him know I hear him.
“You might have a concussion. You need to be careful.” He grabs my hands and helps me to my feet. Everything is spinning. My eyes are only half open and my head is throbbing. “I’m so sorry. I was bending down to tie my shoe and the second I stood up you were right there.” He sounds sincere, worried even.
I open my eyes completely and look at his face. He has a strong face—square jaw line, high cheekbones and a brawny nose. His emerald eyes are rimmed with dark eyelashes. His forehead is wrinkle-free and his lips are full and swollen.
I realize I’m still staring at him and my hands are still in his. “Nice to hear you remember my name today,” is all I say. I want to ask about his skank—as Carissa would say—but I have no reason to. His hands are warm and comforting, and with all my strength, I make myself let go of him.
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry about that.” His eyes are soft, but I don’t budge.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” I wave him off, not wanting to remember last night’s events. “I’m going to go pop some ibuprofen and sit on a bag of frozen peas.” He grins as he swoops me in for a hug, taking me completely by surprise. I return the hug and pull back…way too quickly. I only just now notice he’s in his running clothes. “You’re running today?” I ask, remembering how drunk he was the night before.
“Of course. I run rain, snow or shine. Wasted, sober, or hung over.” He chuckles as I roll my eyes at him.
“Well, enjoy yourself. I’m going to go find me some peas now.” I wave off and look back at him smiling at me. I give him a half-smile back and notice he’s eyeing me from behind. A shiver shoots down my spine as I walk away, knowing the view he’s enjoying.
I grab some frozen vegetables and head toward the couch. Pulling my shirt off, leaving just my sports bra and shorts on, I lay there for a good half hour. My eyes are closed, but I hear footsteps coming toward me. Assuming its Carissa, I don’t flinch.
The footsteps stop at the end of the couch. I can feel the heat coming off the body hovering over me, and soon realize it’s not Carissa. My eyes pop open and I see Eric standing over me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, covering myself up with the shirt that I had thrown on the floor.
“I came to check up on you,” he answers in the most sweet, tender voice. He bends down on his knees bringing his face inches away from mine.
“How do you keep getting in here? Don’t you knock?” I ask, returning his soothing tone.
“I’m a firefighter. We don’t…usually knock,” he grins, knowing exactly what I meant. “Okay, fine. I was hoping I’d catch you naked again. Looks like I got half lucky.” He laughs and dodges my hand as I go to slap his shoulder.
“Geez, you really are a perv.” He pouts, putting his lower lip out as if he’s offended. It immediately puts a soft spot in my heart as I keep running—literally—into this man. Maybe it’s okay to let my guard down…
Just as I’m convincing myself to go for it, he bends back on his knees and rises to his feet. “Well, sweetheart, I’m off for a forty-eight hour shift. Hoping I don’t have to save you this time.” He smiles, and steps back toward the door.
My breathing quickens as he shuts the door behind him. I was so ready to kiss him, but perhaps I truly wasn’t. How the heck would I know anyway? It’s been three years since I’ve let a man touch me, and even that didn’t go far.
It’s Sunday, so I decide to crawl back into bed to get a few more hours of sleep. Carissa is still passed out in her room and isn’t usually up until noon on the weekends.
* * *
I wake up to the sound of metal banging around in the apartment. What the heck? I look and see that it’s half past noon, and decide I need to get up. I’m still in my sports bra, but I feel too lazy to get dressed.
I step out of my bedroom—making sure to scan the hallway first—and walk to the kitchen where I see Carissa digging through the cabinets.
“Where the hell is it?” she mumbles, not realizing I’m standing there.
“What in the world are you doing, Riss?”
“I’m looking for a pan. Don’t we have a freaking pan in this place?” she shouts, backing up out of the cabinet.
“For what? You don’t cook.” I stand there and continue to watch her, laughing as I see her get frustrated. She glares at me and asks where she can find one. “In the oven,” I respond. “It was the only available spot left.” I shrug, answering her silent question.
“Oh, thanks.” She opens the oven and reaches in for the pan, places it on the stovetop and turns the stove on. I watch intently, wondering what she’s up to. “I’m making lunch!” she finally exclaims as I don’t’ take my eyes off her.
“Why?” Carissa is not a cook. Not even a little bit of a cook. She goes to her grandmother’s house once a week and stocks up on her frozen meals. They’re the best, actually. She makes us frozen lasagnas, casseroles and soups.
“Because I’m hungry.”
“Okay…well don’t burn the place down. I’m not in the mood to see Eric again.” I cross my arms and lean up against the doorframe.
“Again?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t ask.” I shake my head. “We need a better lock on the door, by the way.” She gives me a puzzled look as I walk away.
I spend the day curled up on the couch, r
eading sports magazines and checking out scores on CNN. It helps knowing that stuff for when the athletes at the university talk about it. I don’t like standing there looking like a moron, so I call it my “weekly research.”
“You are such a boy.” Carissa plops on the couch next to me. “How can you stand to watch this crap?” She motions to the TV as the news anchor is going over stats.
“I just stare at the hot athletes and drool myself into an orgasmic coma.” She turns to scowl at me. “Oh no, wait, that’s you.” I smile as I tease her.
“So, what’s going on with Eric? Are you going for it or not?” she asks, changing the subject. I roll my eyes at her attempt to get information out of me.
“Nothing is happening. He probably views me like a sister or something anyway. So no, I’m not going for it.” I change the channel in an effort to shut her up.
“Girl, you are in serious denial. Either you are suffering from a tumor, or you just can’t admit you want him to soak your panties.” She turns her face back to the screen as I settle on one of her ridiculous reality shows.
“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” I mock, knowing she’s always been the outspoken one.
“I told you. I’m excellent at reading people. And body language. I see the sexual tension between you two, and if you don’t get it on soon your pussy will combust.” She laughs and slaps my knee. “Seriously, Lane. You need to get back out there. Well…out there period, since technically you’ve barely been out there in the first place.”
“Oh sweet bejesus, you can be so annoying,” I groan as she’s grinning at me.
“You know you love me.”
We watch a Keeping Up with the Kardashians marathon on E!, and somewhere between a divorce scandal and someone cheating on someone else, I fall asleep on the couch.
I wake up sometime during the night and realize I’m still on the couch, only now there’s a pillow under my head and a blanket over my body. Carissa must have gone back to her room and covered me up. I drag my lazy body back to my room and hit the bed hard.
Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set Page 23
