The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set

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The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set Page 12

by Dallen, Maggie


  “What are you thinking about?” Drew asked. She had a feeling her face had given her away so she didn’t even try to lie.

  “Us,” she said, gesturing to him and her. “This.” She grinned up at him. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

  She was rewarded with a heart-melting smile that somehow oozed sex even though it was tender and sweet. “Me too.”

  When they reached the subway entrance, he kept walking.

  “Where are we going?”

  He hadn’t said when she’d left his apartment this morning, he’d only told her that he thought they should make the most of their limited-time arrangement. She’d sort of assumed that meant they’d be heading back to his place or hers. But they’d just walked away from the station that would take them to either.

  “You and I haven’t hung out for a while,” he said with a shrug. “I thought it might be nice to go out on the town for a bit before heading back to my place.”

  The words “my place” were enough to make her belly clench with anticipation and her cheeks turn to fire. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  Though really, she kind of thought she would have preferred to head straight to his home and his bed.

  Good Lord, she was insatiable.

  “So where are we going?” she asked. She proceeded to list the bars they used to go to together but he shook his head at each one.

  “I had something different in mind tonight.”

  Different turned out to be a gallery opening in Chelsea. It was a new artist she’d never heard of but she adored instantly. Adored was an understatement, actually. The moment they entered the gallery, she was transported. Gone. She’d left the earth and had become a temporary resident of this artist’s gorgeous, surreal, and enchanting world.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to an art gallery. Probably not since she’d gone with him. It was the sort of thing she and Drew would do together—which also meant, it was the kind of thing that Jessie would never do with her. Funny how those two went hand in hand. The same went for foreign films, plays, and the symphony. They fell into the category of events that Drew accompanied her to as it was an unspoken rule that Jessie was not to be dragged along.

  Of course, that hadn’t stopped Jessie from dragging her along to football games and sports bars.

  She shoved the cynical thought aside. Tonight was not a night for raging against the ex. She stepped outside the gallery with her plastic cup of complimentary wine that the artist and gallery owner had supplied for opening night. Breathing in the crisp night air, she sipped her wine and reveled in that post-art blissed out feeling she’d always loved but had forgotten about all year.

  She’d gone about her day-to-day life with her head down this past year. She’d been so hell bent on moving forward—graduating school, earning money for rent, getting over her heartbreak—she’d forgotten to lift up her head and take a deep breath. She’d forgotten to go out and enjoy the city with its unique offerings.

  She’d forgotten to have fun.

  Drew stood beside her, a cup of his own in hand. “Thinking about what your opening night is going to be like?”

  She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  He nudged her arm. “Your photography career, remember? You had a detailed plan about how you wanted your opening night reception to go. I’m pretty sure my band is supposed to play.”

  She laughed at the memory. God, it had been ages since they’d talked about that. He’d taken a photography class with her sophomore year and she’d become obsessed with the idea of becoming a world-renowned travel photographer. It had been a nice dream.

  He was watching her with a small smile, waiting for a response. “My drummer had to quit to move back home so if you want to book us, you might have to wait a few months until we find a replacement.”

  She let out a small snort. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  He laughed. “So the travel photography plan is off the table?”

  Raising one brow, she fixed him with a look as she sipped her wine. “I don’t even have a real camera. That one for our photography class was a loaner, remember?”

  He shrugged. “It’s never too late to start.”

  She rolled her eyes. He couldn’t be serious. He knew as well as anyone that she’d always planned on going to law school after undergrad.

  After a moment of silence, Drew asked, “What did you think of the art show?”

  “Amazing.” She sighed the word, making him laugh.

  “Yeah, I had a feeling you’d like it.”

  She turned toward to see him grinning down at her and was temporarily stunned by his sex appeal. Shit, how had she ever gotten used to that before? Had she been immune or just blind?

  Or maybe she just hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge it. Maybe she’d always known that if she let herself recognize how attracted she was to him, they’d never be able to be friends.

  All that effort to keep their friendship strictly platonic, and for what? They weren’t friends anymore.

  A stabbing pain had her clenching her hands around the plastic cup too hard. Wine sloshed over the edges. “Shit. Sorry.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing; it slipped out of sheer habit.

  “I’ll grab some napkins,” Drew said before disappearing into the gallery. Olivia took a deep breath once he was gone. She had to get it together—they had a little less than two weeks of fun ahead of them and she refused to let her angst over their lost friendship ruin a single second of it.

  Looking through the glass walls, she watched him maneuver through the crowd to the makeshift bar, which had cocktail napkins set out. She wasn’t the only one watching him. She noted with a mixed sense of jealousy and pride as several girls inside craned their heads to watch his movements.

  But they didn’t stand a chance. Not tonight, at least. Tonight he’d be going home with her.

  That thought helped ease some of the tension in her chest. Yes, she was still grieving the loss of her best friend. But if they hadn’t parted ways then this would never have happened. As long as they were best friends, she would never have gotten to experience what it feels like to be the center of Drew’s sexual attention. She’d been the center of his attention before, and she’d always known there was something heady about it—he had the ability to make a girl feel like the center of the universe. And she’d always wondered what it would be like to be the object of that intoxicating single-minded focus in the bedroom.

  Now she knew.

  It was even better than she could have ever guessed. He’d made her feel things she hadn’t known were possible. No, much as she might regret the end of their friendship, she couldn’t bring herself to regret this new relationship its dissolution had led to.

  The amazing, transformative, life-affirming relationship…which was going to expire in a couple weeks.

  She clutched her wine again, this time taking a long gulp rather than waste any more by spilling it onto the sidewalk.

  Would she still have no regrets when this came to an end? God, she hated to think about it ending. Two weeks just didn’t seem long enough.

  But then, how long would be enough? She knew in her gut that the longer it lasted, the harder it would be to walk away. And, more importantly, the longer it lasted the more Drew would be itching to run in the opposite direction.

  That was the point of putting parameters on this agreement, right? It was a smart decision. One that would keep her from getting hurt. Whether it made sense or not, she knew without a doubt that if this thing continued between them for any length of time, she’d grow attached. She wasn’t a casual kind of girl, not really. She had a hard time keeping emotions out of sex, of differentiating physical intimacy from plain old intimacy.

  She couldn’t deal with another heartbreak, the last one had crippled her. And losing Drew’s friendship had nearly destroyed her. She couldn’t go through that again.
/>   She caught a glimpse of him heading toward the door. Heading back to her.

  Her heart did a funny flip in her chest.

  Oh shit.

  Was it already too late? Was she already confusing lust with love?

  He walked out the front door to the gallery and grinned at her as he reached her side, handing over the stack of napkins he’d snagged from the bar. “For you, princess.”

  She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. Was it her imagination? When had the word princess stopped being a joke and started to be a term of endearment?

  Shaking her head, she started blotting the wine from her arms and dress. She was being an idiot. Reading too much into everything. One night of hot sex and she was already confused.

  This was exactly why it was so perfect that they’d set the boundaries at the beginning. Because no matter how confused she might get, there was a clear ending in sight. A parting of ways. Two weeks was perfect. She couldn’t get too invested in that short amount of time, and unless Drew had an even shorter attention span than she thought, surely he wouldn’t tire of her that quickly.

  She’d walk away before he could. Perfect. It was a fail-proof plan, one that would ensure they could part with no one’s feelings hurt. She glanced up at him and saw him watching her with those dark, brooding eyes of his. A flicker of hope had her smiling up at him. Who knew? Maybe when they parted they could even part as friends….

  Her breath caught in her chest as his arm snaked out, wrapping around her waist and pulling her up against him so quickly it made her head spin. Dropping his forehead so it rested against hers, his lips were temptingly close. She didn’t typically go for PDA but with Drew, it was hard to remember that other people were around.

  He seemed to be reading her mind because his lips brushed over hers in a kiss that was too quick and too light. Groaning, he let out a rueful laugh. “I had this great plan.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, not entirely sure what they were talking about…or why they were talking at all.

  She felt his small nod as his forehead pressed against hers. So close…

  “First the art gallery, then I was going to treat you to a burrito at Mama Rosa’s—”

  “My favorite!” Only talk of a Mama Rosa’s burrito could have cut through the sexual tension that had been keeping her in a trance.

  He pulled back just far enough that she could see his amusement. “I know.”

  “But now?” she prompted.

  He groaned softly again and pulled her body closer so her belly was pressed against his pelvis and the hard evidence of his desire.

  She shivered, her body responding instantly and shamelessly. The ache between her thighs made it uncomfortable to stand there, so close but so far away.

  “But now,” he said softly, his voice close to a growl in her ear. “Now, I think dinner is going to have to wait.”

  She clutched his button-down shirt and let out the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank God.”

  The taxi ride to his place took an eternity and they may have scandalized the cab driver on the way.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said between kisses as they stumbled through his front door. They’d been unable to keep their hands off each other from the moment they’d agreed to skip dinner and head back for sex.

  Holy hell, she was losing her mind. She’d never felt so out of control, so crazy-drunk on hormones and sensations. His hands were fumbling with the zipper of her dress before the door had shut behind them.

  And she was no better. She felt like a wild woman. Something primal and raw had been unleashed in her and it scared the hell out of her.

  But she also loved it. Like, crazy-loved it. It was such a rush! Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and a distant part of her brain was stuck in a strange loop, as though it still hadn’t caught up with recent events.

  This was Drew, the voice said. Your friend.

  Former friend.

  This was Drew, it insisted. Jessie’s best friend.

  Former best friend.

  “Why did you stop?” he asked. She hadn’t even realized she’d frozen up until she saw his look of concern.

  It was the thought of Jessie. A thought that needed to be banished. He had no place in this little apartment or between the two of them. For the first time in a long time, the thought of Jessie seemed…irrelevant.

  He’d suddenly been relegated to ancient history.

  All it had taken was amazing sex. Huh. She smiled up at him. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking….” She continued her attempt to unclothe him as the words tumbled out of her mouth. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

  Now it was his turn to go still and she pulled back to question it. But his gaze was so dark, so deliciously desirous, so utterly sexy…she forgot what she’d been going to say. All she could do was kiss him, and when he kissed her back…oh Lord, it was so much better than words. With one kiss he told her just how much he wanted this. Just how badly he’d always wanted this.

  Wanted her.

  How had she been so blind to this chemistry between them? He tugged her dress off, shedding his shirt shortly after. Apparently he’d lost patience with her fumbling, and thank God for that. Because this man had the kind of chest that should never be covered.

  “You should always be shirtless.” Shit, had that come out of her mouth?

  Judging by his laughter as he lifted her into his arms, the answer was yes.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist automatically and he gripped her ass so she was pressed against his hard cock, though his jeans and her panties were still frustratingly blocking them.

  She felt herself clinging to his back and shoulders so tightly she was afraid she was hurting him. “I don’t want to scrape you,” she said, even as her nails dug into his skin. She needed more, she couldn’t get close enough.

  “Scrape me,” he muttered between kisses, “Hurt me, bruise me. I don’t care. Just don’t ask me to stop.”

  She let out a little snort of a laugh at the absurdity of his statement. As if she would. As if she could. Her body was out of her control. It was his for the taking.

  Except for her mouth, that seemed to have a mind of its own, blurting out random thoughts as they popped up. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

  He grunted in return as his mouth was currently occupied. Kissing her neck and shoulders he brought her over to the bed and set her down, coming to lay on top of her. “Yours are amazing,” he said.

  For a second she didn’t know what he was talking about. But then he pulled back and cupped her face between his palms. “I can see everything in your eyes—your emotions, your intellect, your soul. It’s all reflected there for anyone to see.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and she trembled. His gaze met hers and she was humbled by the sincerity in his look. “They are endlessly fascinating.”

  A smile tugged at her lips as she mentally tucked that away to replay and ponder over on lonely nights when she was back to being single and he was cavorting with the next flavor of the week.

  The smile that had been forming died.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his lips trailing over her jaw and nipping at her ear.

  “I just…” Ah hell, the words came out before she could stop them. “Is it always like this?”

  His mouth paused its mission and she felt his shoulder blades hunch beneath her hands. For a second she thought maybe she offended him but when he lifted his head, he didn’t seem offended. He seemed…resigned. A sort of weary amusement made him look older. Not for the first time she wondered about everything that had happened to him this past year—who he’d met and what he’d experienced without her.

  “With all my many women?” he asked.

  Her stomach lurched despite his teasing tone. She nodded. That was exactly what she’d meant.

  For a second she thought he wouldn’t answer. When he did, it was with his hands. They moved over her, tugging down her panties and parting her
thighs until she was exposed and vulnerable before him.

  He dropped his head to her thighs, trailing kisses over the sensitive skin. His murmurs were soft and sweet as he made his way up toward her core, his breath and lips making her skin hot and her muscles ache. “What do you think?”

  She couldn’t have answered if she’d tried. Her hands were in his hair, urging him closer. She couldn’t take much more teasing.

  “Do you think this is how it would be with anyone else?”

  She shook her head, but she knew he couldn’t see.

  “Is this how it was with Jessie?”

  She felt nothing at the sound of his name, nothing except irritation. He didn’t belong here. But the answer was so clear she couldn’t hold it back. “God, no. It was nothing like this.”

  She felt his lips curve up in a smile against the soft skin of her inner thigh.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like this,” he said, so quietly she thought for a moment she was making it up. Then his tongue flicked over her clit and she cried out, her back arching off the bed. His voice barely made it past the rushing of blood in her ears. “I’ve never experienced anything like you.”

  Beautiful. Such pretty words. His mouth closed over her and she was gone. All thoughts and words banished as the world came down to his mouth, his tongue, his fingers. When the sweet torture was too much and she couldn’t take it anymore, she grasped his hair and tugged, pulling him up over her.

  In one swift move, he had a condom on and was inside of her, filling her up and making her cry out in ecstasy. His own climax wasn’t far behind and when he came she held on tight, reveling in his pleasure as if it was her own.

  It wasn’t until she was drifting off to sleep, curled up against his side, that his earlier words came back to her. Warm and content, the words made her smile against his chest. I’ve never experienced anything like you. Such sweet words. Whether he meant them or not, they made her chest tighten with something so much more than contentment. Over the last twenty-four hours she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more wanted or desired. But his words had made her feel special. Irreplaceable.

 

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