Dan’s phone dings again and I look back down, feeling a bit like I’m snooping, but certain the text is for me.
What’s your name?
Before I can stop myself, my fingers are typing out my name and pressing send.
He picks his phone back up and stares at it for a few moments. I watch as he types out a response and remember how nice his hands are. Big hands. They say men with big hands…hell no. Not going there.
But why the hell not?
Ding again.
That’s a beautiful name. It suits you. Come back and have a drink with me.
It’s not a question. He flat out told me to. I look back and forth between the phone and the man at the bar that I absolutely cannot go have a drink with unless I plan to get in a car with him and go to his home. He’s too much, too intense. He would either expect more than I’m capable of giving or…give me exactly what I need. Dammit. I haven’t been divorced for twenty-four hours yet—though my marriage has been over for years—and I’m considering sex with a stranger. God, what am I thinking? Hell, no.
Bad timing, slick. Sorry about your luck.
Without responding I hand the phone back to Dan. He reads the messages on the screen and looks up at me, concern drawing perfectly plucked blond eyebrows together.
“Be careful with Gabe, Luna. He’s good for a rebound, but not a relationship.” He frowns at his brother and pockets the phone.
I look around for a free waitress to order another bottle of water. I try not to look at him, I really do. But he’s still at the bar watching me. He’s leaning on one elbow now and the smile is gone. Now he looks angry again, is leveling me with his eyes from across a crowded, noisy bar.
My stomach flips. How the hell does he do that? It’s irritating.
“I think you should go for it,” Sierra pipes in before slurping her watered down margarita. I give her a look to let her know I think she’s a traitor. She shrugs and explains, “You can look at a man and tell if he’s going to have potential in bed or not, especially if you get to see him dance.” She looks over at Gabe. “And that man has more than potential. He’s got skills, girl, and you can take that to the bank. When else are you going to have a chance to go to a club and go home with a man that looks that good and has class? Trust me girl, there are not very many men like that.”
I look back over at him. He crooks a finger at me. I shake my head. I bet when he crooks his finger everyone for fifty miles comes running. It’s a little satisfying to be the one telling him “no.”
But dammit, Sierra has a point. He is somehow set apart from other men, and I watch him for a few moments before deciding what it is. He’s got a confidence that borders on arrogant. Like he doesn’t need to prove himself, because once someone finds out how good he is, they’ll beg for more. Those that don’t find out aren’t worth the trouble anyway. That’s the vibe I get, though I couldn’t explain it before now. It’s beyond confidence, and just shy of arrogance. It’s a surety of self that most people don’t have.
“Luna, after Corey, you need a rebound. He tore you down, girl, even if you don’t know it, and this guy can remind you that you’re a woman. Go home with him, have a fantastic night, and he’ll probably make sure you get home tomorrow.” She looks over at Dan. “If he won’t, I’m sure you can text Dan for a ride or me and Brad can come get you.”
Dan nods and sighs. He laces his fingers together and leans forward. “She’s right, and she has a point about Gabe. If you absolutely have to rebound, he’s safe. Gabe would show you a damn good time as long as you realize it’s just sex. He’ll give you the best night of your life, be gone in the morning, and have your clothes laundered and pressed. He’d even have a driver waiting to take you home.” He shrugs and says, “And if you need a ride, my number’s in your phone. In fact.” He shoots Sierra a glance. “Why don’t you and your husband stay at my apartment tonight so you don’t have to make the long drive back to podunkville? I’ve got four spare bedrooms.”
I don’t hear Sierra’s response, but I’m fairly certain she’ll say yes. Especially if I decide to have my first ever just-because sex with a virtual stranger. Wonderful, protective friend that she is, she’ll want to be close by in case I need her.
I frown and look back at Gabe, tempted beyond reason. Even before I married Corey I’d only been with two other men. Fumbling teenagers, more like it. And Corey was about as skilled and appealing in bed as a sack of broken glass.
Maybe I’m going to be bitter for a while. But does that mean I can’t have a kick ass one-night stand before I start to pull myself back together and figure out what I’m going to do with my life?
Hell, no it doesn’t.
Little-inner-voice-that-is-really-me-telling-myself-what-to-do is right. With a determined breath I look back at Dan.
“Do you have a condom?”
He grins and shakes his head. “No sugar, I don’t. But I’m pretty sure he does.” He nods toward Gabe.
I smile tightly, nerves jangling around behind my breastbone. “Of course he does.”
Without stopping to second guess myself again, I grab my purse and slide out of the booth.
I look up and lock eyes with Gabe, stumbling over someone else’s feet a couple of times as I make my way to him. When I’m directly in front of him, he starts to say something. But I can’t let him. I have to be the one or…Jesus, I don’t know. I just need to be the one to ask.
“Do you live nearby?” My voice comes out husky and I clear my throat.
He watches me, his eyes roaming over my face until I fidget, uncomfortable again. He finally sets his jaw and nods, satisfied with whatever he found by looking at me so closely.
“Jim!” He calls out without looking away and the bartender is there within seconds. “Have my car brought around.”
“Yes, sir.” Jim scurries off, ready to do his bidding. It’s exasperating, but intimidating and appealing at the same time. This man says “jump” and fifty people around him say “how high.” Is it something they teach at rich kid school or is it something some men are born with? Maybe it’s the money that makes people obey. Whatever it is, he has it in spades.
His voice reaches my ears, low and determined, his firm lips barely moving as he speaks. “If you’re going to change your mind, do it before you get in my car. After that you will not back down. Understand?”
Fluttery stomach again. I nod.
“Brave woman,” he murmurs. That makes me a little nervous.
His phone beeps and he picks it up and looks at the screen for a moment before smiling on one side of his mouth. The expression does nothing to soften his features but it’s sexy as hell.
“You have a protector,” he mutters as he types out a response. When he finishes, he turns off his phone and pockets it.
“Mr. O’Malley, your car is here,” the bartender says softly before walking away. I hadn’t even realized he was there.
O’Malley, huh. Must have some Irish in him, which means I’m going to have some Irish in me. Oh God, I want to laugh at my little internal joke, but it’s probably not a good idea. I bite my upper lip to muffle it.
“Thank you, Jim.” Gabe nods at him in thanks and turns back to me. “Now. You have my complete attention, Luna.”
I swallow. I strongly suspect very few people have heard those words from him. And those unlucky few were probably just as intimidated as I am. He takes my elbow and tugs gently. I follow him through a door marked “Staff Only” and down a long hallway with several closed doors. We make a turn and go down four steps before he opens a door and the smell of Mobile hits me.
To be clear, it’s not the most pleasant smell.
A black, two door, Batmobile looking Tesla Roadster sits next to the curb. One of the wait staff is standing next to the open driver door. When he sees us exit, he rushes around the back and opens the passenger door as well. I try not to look like the biggest hillbilly slut in the world as I round the car and slide into the plush leather interior
.
Before the door closes, Gabe’s hand grips my knee. I look up at him. His smile is gone and he’s staring straight into my soul again with those eyes. “Remember what I said.”
I nod, unable to think of anything to say. Doubts start to crowd into my mind but I push them away. I’m certain I need this. A sexy, alpha-male has always been a secret fantasy, and it’s one I have a chance to fulfill while cleansing my horrible marriage from my mind. Without taking my eyes from his I pull against the door and the waiter closes it. Still holding his intense, blue ice gaze, I fasten my seat belt.
“Good choice,” he whispers. He jerks his stare from mine, puts the car in gear, and we rocket into the night.
Chapter 4
The ride to his house lasts only about fifteen minutes. We leave the city behind, heading down the waterfront for a few miles. The road is landscaped and immaculately groomed in a way that’s never seen outside of wealthy areas. No blade of grass dares to be taller than the one next to it, and every flower blooms beautifully and obediently. Long, gated driveways shoot off the road and I can only imagine the opulence hiding behind the wrought iron that keeps undesirables like myself from becoming a curious trespasser.
It’s all very depressing and impressive.
Just before the road ends in a T intersection, he presses a button in the center console. A few yards down to the left, a huge gate swings open just in time for him to yank the little hot rod in. He pushes the button again and the gates swing closed.
Hell of a system, that.
The driveway winds through ancient azalea bushes and oaks with branches bigger than most trees. Spanish moss hangs from the limbs, drooping down to the ground to create a little haven beneath each tree. I assume it’s either fake or carefully maintained. It’s beautiful, but will suck the life from a tree within a few years. Southerners know that, and his family has lived here for generations. Well, his stepfamily. And if his mother managed to snag a Cottrell, she’s probably from old Southern money as well.
He probably doesn’t know, though. I’m sure he has a gardener or groundskeeper or something. What the hell do I know about rich people and their landscaping? Nothing, that’s what.
The house comes into view after about a half mile, and I can vaguely see the glint of moonlit water behind it. It’s massive, built in the typical Southern plantation style with large white columns and a wide porch. I almost expect Mammy to come bursting through the doors to scold me as he parks directly in front of the steps.
I start to open the door, but his hand on my knee stops me. I look back at him, wondering if he’s changed his mind.
“I know I said you couldn’t back down. But before we go inside, you should know that all you have to do is tell me ‘no’ and we’re done. I’m not a rapist.”
A little tense part of my mind relaxes and I grin at him. “Isn’t that what all the rapists say?”
He trails his fingers up my leg, pushing my skirt up a few inches, before moving them to the nape of my neck. His warm hand holds me still as he leans across the center console and brushes his lips against mine. I close my eyes and wait. But he doesn’t kiss me, just keeps the faint contact between our lips. With an annoyed scowl, I open my eyes to find him watching me. He smiles and whispers, “Don’t move.”
I don’t. I can’t. He jumps out of the car and rushes around to open my door. That’s amazing. No one’s ever opened doors for me except Dad and the strangers that hold the store door open if you’re right behind them. His big hand grasps mine and I know he can tell how cold and clammy my palms are. His are dry and warm. That’s not fair. Men are never nervous about sex because, let’s face it, they could screw anything on the planet and get off without giving a shit if they’ve disappointed whoever they’re with.
Women though…we’re different. Sex isn’t enjoyable for us because—unlike men—our minds function at the same time as our genitals. Sex equals all kinds of awful thoughts. Like:
Does he think I’m fat? He should, because I am fat. And ugly. He’s probably thinking about someone else. Or his taxes. God, what if he’s thinking about his taxes? I can’t wait to get my W2 in January so I can get my taxes back. Maybe I’ll buy some diet pills and get a makeover so I’m not so fat and ugly. Jesus, it’s a clit, not bread dough. What the hell is he doing to my nipples? They’re not supposed to stretch that far, dipwad. He’s probably ready to get this over with. Oh shit, he’s moaning. I better fake it, quick.
I sigh as we march up the stairs. I’m suddenly no longer in such a hurry to be disappointed in him and ashamed of myself. This is probably a bad idea.
He stops in front of the door and frames my face with his hands. “What is it? Second thoughts?”
Should I tell him the truth? Aw, fuck it. Why hold back now? “Yeah, sort of.” I try to pull away but he’s got me held too tightly. And honestly, I don’t want to pull away. The scent of his cologne and the warmth coming from him is probably the most pleasure I’ll get tonight. That is, if I don’t piss him off with my next statement and he sends me packing. “I was just thinking that you’d be just as happy with anyone standing here. It doesn’t have to be me. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not particularly attached to you either. I know what this is. But I’m just a fill-in-the-blank for you, and you’re probably just another future disappointment for me.” His eyes widen at that and I continue before he can stop me. “So maybe it’s best if we just call it a night.”
His lips twitch as he looks out toward his car and clears his throat. His voice has a funny tremble to it when he speaks and I wonder at it. “So you think I’m going to get my rocks off and start snoring?” He looks back at me and I realize it’s laughter. He’s laughing at me.
That, I will not tolerate. Corey laughed at me all the time. He’d say I was too uneducated to understand politics or money, and mocked me when I expressed an opinion. Whenever I tried to talk to him about sex and desire and the things I wanted, he’d say it was my fault if I couldn’t get off, that he was doing everything right and laugh at my inability to enjoy physical intimacy. And I know he’s full of shit. I knew it then too, but I still don’t like to be laughed at.
I push against Gabe’s chest and jerk away. He lets me go this time and I swallow a knot of disappointment. I start down the stairs and call over my shoulder, “Give me this address so I can call a cab.” Despite how much I’d like to start my new single life with kick-ass sex with a stranger, I’m not going to let anyone disregard, invalidate, or mock my genuine feelings. Never again.
He’s suddenly right there, hard arms scooping me up and carrying me back up the stairs. “Hell, no. You’re going to let me have my say before you storm off.” He puts me down in front of the big double doors and says, “What’s that about? Running off in a temper?”
He’s calm, his voice even and relaxed. It’s so different from what I’m used to, so unexpected that I blurt out the truth. “Don’t laugh at me.” And now I sound pitiful. I hate sounding pitiful almost as much as I hate being laughed at. I try to cover it up, hide the exposure of my innermost self. I poke him in the chest and put my hands on my hips, then say in my best Mommy voice, “It’s not nice.”
He looks, for an instant, like he’s going to laugh again. Then his eyebrows draw together in a look of such sincere concern that I melt a little. Just a little bit though. “Who laughed and hurt you, Luna?” He slides his fingers into my hair and cups my cheek with his palm. It’s an affectionate gesture, one that I’d always thought looked so comforting but have never had.
I don’t answer. He doesn’t know I’m just a few hours divorced, with the two most beautiful little girls in the world waiting for me at my father’s house. He doesn’t know that I’m hurting, and just need to re-establish myself as a woman, someone desirable. He never needs to know any of that. It’s private, my business. He’s just a quick lay. I shake my head and look down.
“Keep your secrets, then.” He tilts my head back with a finger beneath my chin and explains in a
low, soft voice. “I didn’t laugh at you. I laughed because no other woman would have the nerve to stand on my front porch and tell me they didn’t think I could satisfy them.” I blink up at him and he smiles at me. With both sides of his mouth this time. Crap. It’s a really nice smile. He bends to brush his lips against mine again, in that touch that’s barely there, and whispers, “Let me prove you wrong.”
Cocky bastard.
I grunt, completely unconvinced. But I still wonder…what if he can? If I walk away I’ll never know. If I stay and let him try…worst case scenario, I end up knowing there’s at least one more man in the world that knows nothing about women. This seems the most likely outcome, but the little whisper of what if keeps trotting through my mind.
I can see that little whisper turning me into a slut. I’ll have to watch it.
He kisses my cheek lightly, then scatters little breathy kisses to my ear and down my throat. I shiver. At the very least, he knows the pleasure points in the neck.
“Come on, Luna,” he urges, his hot breath beneath my ear sending another shiver down my spine. He rubs his slightly bristly cheek against mine and whispers, “Take me out for a test drive. Spin the tires a little.”
It’s stupid. It’s corny. It’s a typical cocky bastard line. And it still makes my knees shake a little. But if he says anything about his “stick” I’m leaving.
“Okay.” I can’t believe how whispery and sensual my voice comes out. Almost seductive. It’s sexy and I didn’t even know I could do it.
He hums and I can feel his lips tilt into a smile against my collarbone. “Incredible courage,” he murmurs against my skin. I slide my eyes closed and wait for him to start slobbering and groping.
Luna Exposed Page 4
