Making a concerted effort to bring his volume under control, Mark reached out and took her hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity at the contact and the fact that she had instinctively tried to pull away. He needed her to hear this, dammit.
“I did not sleep with you.” He enunciated the words slowly and clearly so there could be no doubt.
The relief that filled her eyes was sweet….and mildly offensive.
Then her brow furrowed in concern and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Are you sure?”
He couldn’t help the little laugh of disbelief that slipped out. Was he sure? Uh, yeah, he was sure. “No offense, Elizabeth, but a woman who’s passed out is not exactly a turn on in my book.”
Her brows shot up. “I was passed out?”
“Mmmhmm. On my bar. Your friends had all left and I couldn’t get you to tell me your address.”
Her eyes were wide with horror now. “Oh my God.”
“You woke up for a little while when we got back to my place. I assumed you remembered.” In hindsight, he should have realized she’d been too far gone to be making any memories but when he’d woken to find her gone…no note, no nothing….he’d assumed she’d come to her senses.
“So all this time….” he started.
Elizabeth let out a loud exhale and tugged her hand from his so she could drop her head into her hands. “I thought we’d….you know….done it.”
It was a struggle not to laugh. Not because she was miserable but because of the way she’d said ‘done it’ like it was the most disgusting idea in the world.
“Even if we had, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world, would it? I mean, you and Jason weren’t together at the time.”
She let out a little moan at that and a heavy weight settled in his stomach. He’d been relieved to find that they really weren’t together—not just because he wanted to sleep with her—but because he never messed around with women in relationships. Ever. He knew all too well how much it sucked to be on the other end of that equation to ever cause that kind of pain. But now, watching her agony, it became clear.
“You want him back.” Of course, why else would she be so incredibly horrified by the idea that she’d slept with someone else. Because of the guilt. He imagined it would be way harder to win back the love of your life if you thought you’d slept with someone else the moment you broke up.
He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the driver’s side door. “Don’t sweat it. You didn’t do anything wrong….well, other than getting thoroughly wasted. You can go back to Jason with no guilt.”
He had one foot out the door when her voice stopped him. “I’d never go back to Jason.”
It wasn’t the words that made him freeze, but the tone. That was hatred he heard. It was a mix of anger, resentment, pain, and disillusionment. He knew it well.
He hovered in the doorway, half in the seat, half out the door, for what felt like an hour.
Was she crying? Oh God, he hoped not. There was nothing more terrifying than a woman crying—especially this woman. But no, her shoulders weren’t shaking and there were no telltale sniffs. Still, he couldn’t just walk away from her like this. She was hunched over in the passenger seat and it didn’t look like she had any plans to move. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he call Connie? No, he had a feeling having to deal with her sister right now was not ideal. There were no lights on in the home so even if she had roommates, they weren’t there. Clearly she needed someone. She was so….alone.
Clearing his throat, he forced the awkward words out. “Do you, uh…do you want to talk about it?”
* * *
What was she doing? She pulled the teapot off the burner and got the mugs from the cabinet. It wasn’t like she really wanted to spill her life story to this guy, it was just that he’d sounded so nice when he’d asked if she’d wanted to talk. The word “nice” and Mark the Bartender did not go together in her brain. Sexy, yes. Irritating, obviously. Nice? That was a new one.
She was still reeling from the realization that they hadn’t slept together. Such a relief. And also mildly embarrassing that she’d fallen asleep on his bar and then passed out cold in his bed. Okay, more than mildly embarrassing. Humiliation kept hitting her in fresh waves as that fun fact sank in.
Still, she believed him when he said he hadn’t taken advantage of her drunken state. There was no faking the outrage she’d seen in his eyes when he’d realized she’d thought they’d slept together. She’d actually felt a pang of guilt that she’d ever suspected it in the first place.
When she came into the doorway of her living room, she saw him hovering in front of her bookcase, his hands shoved in his pockets. This was a mistake. He was just being nice, he didn’t really want to hear her problems. But it was too late now—he was here. In her home. In her den, which she normally considered cozy. Now it just felt small.
“Are you sure you don’t want something else to drink?” she asked. “I’ve got some red wine and I think maybe there’s some vodka around here somewhere. Sorry I don’t have any beer—”
“Tea is fine.”
Silence as she set the mugs down on the coffee table and they squared off from opposites sides of the room. Oh crap, why had she invited him inside? Now that they weren’t tucked away in the dark car, he didn’t seem comforting, he just seemed manly. And sexy. And like he would probably mock anything she said. He wore that smirk of his like a shield…she must have been crazy if she’d thought she’d seen something genuine there.
“Maybe this was a mistake—” she started to say.
“So what happened with the douchebag?” he said at the same time.
His words made her laugh and some of the tension eased in the room. His lopsided smirk turned into a lopsided smile. Sexy, sure, but not mean. And no longer mocking.
Elizabeth sank down into her comfy, overstuffed couch. There was no way around it. This was awkward. But he was here now and it didn’t seem like he had any plans of leaving before she answered. So here goes.
“He cheated on me.” The words came out on a rush of air. There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Then she made the mistake of looking up at Mark. There was no smile to be found and the look in his eyes was so cold she got a chill.
“The fucking bastard.” His voice was quiet but filled with such a rage, it would have been frightening…except that it wasn’t. Because his anger was directed toward her loser of an ex and it somehow seemed to match her own anger.
His rage wasn’t frightening so much as it was validating.
“Right?!” She reached for her tea as Mark fell onto the couch beside her.
“How did you find out?”
She clutched her mug with both hands to fight the shudder that always accompanied that particular nightmare of a memory. “I walked in on them.”
Mark’s groan wasn’t pitying, thank God. It was pure disgust. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed someone else to empathize, or at least express what she’d been feeling. Connie’s sympathy had been nice but what she’d really needed was someone to share her anger. And apparently Mark had a lot of anger to share because he let out a string of curse words describing her asshole of an ex. When he came to an end, she glanced over at him with a rueful smile. “That was…colorful.”
“He is every one of those names I just called him.” Mark picked up his mug too and took a sip with a haughty look that had her laughing.
“No, you’re right. He is all of those things. And more. I guess I just don’t have the appropriate vocabulary to do him justice.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He reached out his mug to cheers and she met him halfway, careful not to splash the hot liquid in the process.
He half turned so he was leaning back against the side, one arm thrown over the back of the couch so he was facing her. It was utterly ridiculous how masculine and sexy he looked stretched out across her floral print sofa while holding a cup of tea.
Taking a sip
, his eyes met hers over the rim of his mug. “So,” he said, leaning back as though waiting to be entertained. “What did you do?”
Elizabeth paused with her mug poised halfway to her lips. What had she done? “Um, what do you mean?”
His eyes narrowed a bit. “Please tell me you did something. Smashed a lamp over his head or took a picture and posted it on his office website, or threw the cheating asshole’s golf clubs out the window, or….I don’t know…something.”
She wished she’d done every one of the things he said, she really did. But with her nose wrinkled up in regret she had to admit, “I didn’t do anything.” She shrugged. “I turned around and I left. I came home but I didn’t want to be alone so I called some friends and had them meet me at your bar.”
The heat that shot to her cheeks was painful. “And, uh, you know the rest. Better than I do, apparently.”
She looked up to see him staring with an intensity that was alarming. She resisted the urge to swipe a hand across her nose to make sure something wasn’t hanging out of it. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t do anything.” She almost didn’t hear his mutter since he seemed to be talking to himself. A little louder, he added, “Right. We need to remedy this situation immediately. Get a pen and paper.”
She automatically reached for a pen in the drawer of her end table. “Why?”
The look he gave her told her just how dimwitted he thought she was. “Because, my sweet, forgiving, doormat of a friend, you are going to make a list of every one of your ex’s weaknesses so we can exploit them.”
Elizabeth blinked stupidly. Part of her was annoyed at his condescending tone. She was not a doormat! But having him call her friend was oddly welcome. She’d lost one of her close friends in the cheating incident and she’d drifted apart from a lot of her college friends thanks to her relationship with Jason. He’d been older and had his own group of friends—all doctors and lawyers or some other well-established profession. Their worlds hadn’t really meshed and now, to her absolute mortification, she realized that she’d given up her world for his.
So now, when she was at her lowest, who did she have to turn to? Connie, of course, but she had to admit that Connie’s particular brand of warmth was not always what she needed. And her friendly acquaintances—the colleagues and book club members who left her alone at a bar, crying into her drinks.
Well, not entirely alone.
Mark was still watching her expectantly and though she finished pulling out the pad and pen, she set them down on the coffee table between them. “Revenge isn’t really my thing.”
He rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He let out a melodramatic sigh that had her stifling another laugh. “Let’s just say, Bambi is more intimidating than you are.”
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was laughing and he was too. It was…nice.
If anyone had told her earlier that day that she’d be sitting on her couch laughing with Mark, the jerk bartender—well, she would have laughed her ass off.
Mark changed the topic on her. “Have you spoken to Jason or any of his friends since…you know.”
She shook her head. He’d called—countless times, but there was nothing she wanted to say and she definitely didn’t want to hear what he had to say. There was no excuse for what he’d done. Did she have questions? Of course. She’d love to know how long it had been going on. If he loved Theresa or if it had just been about sex.
But as much as she wanted answers, she didn’t know what answers she wanted to hear. Would it be better if he was in love with her? Or would it be better to hear that it had only been sex? That thought brought on a feeling of nausea that she swallowed down. Is that what this had all been about? Sex? Was she that bad in bed that he’d had to look elsewhere?
It was entirely possible. He’d been her first, her only. She’d thought they’d both been satisfied but what if she just didn’t know any better.
Mark’s voice interrupted her spiral into self-doubt. “If you don’t want revenge, that’s fine. But you need to do something to get over this guy.”
She looked over in surprise at his serious tone. The idea of doing something—anything—to end this crippling heartache and self-esteem black hole was appealing.
His grim expression instantly transformed as that mischievous, cocky smile spread across his face, sending a jolt of awareness through her. “You know what they say,” he said. “The best way to get over someone….”
She rolled her eyes. He was teasing, she knew he was teasing. But that didn’t stop her body’s instantaneous response. God, what was it about this guy that made her weak in the knees over a joke?
But it wasn’t her knees that were affected.
There was a heavy sensation in the pit of her stomach and an ache between her thighs that had her crossing and uncrossing her legs. She was never like this. Horny, that was the word for it.
Oh man, she was spending too much time with pubescent teenagers, apparently, because now her body was starting to act like one.
She licked her lips and tucked a stray curl behind her ears but when she looked over her breath caught in her throat. His eyes had darkened. The teasing glimmer was gone. In its place was desire.
She was in over her head. What was she doing inviting a near-stranger into her home?
Get a grip, Lizzie, if this guy didn’t take advantage of you when you were unconscious in his bed, you’re safe here drinking a cup of tea. Although when she was sleeping off her buzz, she hadn’t had to meet his eyes, or sit next to him, or fight her own temptation to shift closer and narrow the gap that kept his warmth on the far side of the couch.
“I don’t do that kind of thing.” Her voice was harsher than she’d intended and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him.
“Yeah, you mentioned that in the car.”
He was laughing at her, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She nearly jerked back in surprise when his hand reached out and gently touched her chin, forcing her to look his way.
He was giving her that dangerously sexy grin but his eyes were serious. “You know I wouldn’t judge you if you had slept with me that night, right?”
Her lips parted but before she could speak he continued in a low, hypnotic voice. “I would never judge anyone for indulging in their passions.”
Maybe it was the word ‘passions’ or the hungry look in his dark eyes, but a shiver of desire coursed through her, so strong it threatened to drown out the alarm bells going off in the part of her brain responsible for self preservation.
Danger, danger. Move away while you still can.
Too late. His head tipped toward hers, closing the distance. She should move. She should tell him to stop.
His lips were warm and rough against hers. Her breath caught as he brushed his lips across hers once. Twice. He pulled back briefly and she sucked in air, her eyelids fluttering open. That was it?
But then he leaned in again, this time wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and pulling her up against his side as he slanted his lips over hers, urging her for access. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her as his tongue slipped between her lips. Her mind went blank as her senses kicked into overdrive. The feel of his hard body pressed against hers, his hands tight on her waist. His mouth hot as he kissed her with a passion she’d never felt before, never even knew existed outside of movies and romance novels. His free hand found her thigh and she gave another desperate moan as his fingers slowly but surely eased their way up her thigh. Slipping beneath her skirt, his fingers teased her skin as they trailed up her leg, stopping at the soft skin of her inner thigh, mere inches away from her throbbing core. She was wet, so wet.
Her hands slipped up his chest and around his neck. She arched against him, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest as she let his tongue ravage her mouth. Her brain refused to f
unction. Her body was responding on instinct and primal need. She couldn’t have stopped him if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to.
All of the heat in her body was concentrated on the skin beneath his hands and lips. Her body was on fire. His thumb moved in lazy circles over her inner thigh, driving her crazy. He was so close. She found herself shifting closer, trying to close the distance. Trying to make him touch her there.
He was the first to break away. Gently he pulled back, tilting his head so his forehead rested against hers as they both struggled for air.
“Jesus, Elizabeth, that was….” He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.
That was…what? Amazing. Ludicrous. Out of control. Her body was trembling as she struggled to breathe normally. That was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Sanity returned with a vengeance and Elizabeth’s cheeks flooded with heat. Who was that woman who’d all but thrown herself into the arms of a relative stranger?
She glanced up to see him studying her, his expression unreadable.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t a stranger anymore. But still, he wasn’t her boyfriend—she wasn’t even sure she could call him her friend. Yet she’d let him kiss her, touch her….and if he hadn’t put an end to it, she would have let him do so much more.
Thank God he’d stopped. But even as she thought it, her body begged to differ. She was aching everywhere. Her skin was cold where his hands had been. She shifted and crossed her legs in an attempt to ebb the throbbing ache between her thighs.
Why had he stopped?
Elizabeth pushed away the needy voice. Of course he’d stopped and she was grateful he had. This wasn’t her—her reaction to him was just her grief talking. She’d never really thought of herself as a sexy woman before—not even when she was in a relationship—but having been cheated on, her self esteem was at an all-time low. Of course it felt good to be desired. But that’s all it had been, a stroking of her ego.
That’s not all he was stroking.
Elizabeth bit her lip to stop the hysterical giggle. Finally gathering the courage, she flicked her eyes up to see his face. Any urge to laugh disappeared. His eyes were dark with lust. Staring at her lips, he looked like a man possessed. He leaned toward her and Elizabeth resisted the urge to back away—or to lunge toward him and close the distance. A war raged inside of her between her logical brain and her traitorous body.
The Morning After: Starting from Zero Box Set Page 21
