by Paige North
And I have to admit, I’m so happy that he’s not totally repulsed by me. He didn’t have to stop and say hello, offer to take my groceries. This was all him.
Smith nods toward me, which I take as my cue to go home, so I do. I try to pretend I’m not aware of the sweat dribbling down his chest and neck and back. That I’m not aware of the tattoos covering him. That I’m not aware of the muscles of his arms and legs. I try to pretend my core isn’t tightening in response to his raw sexuality, pretend I don’t want him to drop those bags, push me to the sidewalk, and thrust his hard cock inside me.
God help me, I’m so attracted to him I can barely focus.
Worst situation ever.
We walk in silence for a block or so. Then he says, “So how was your hangover on Saturday?”
Great. Yes, let’s bring that up. A slow burn crawls up my throat. “I’m fine, thank you.” Hopefully we can leave it at that and not talk about what happened Friday night.
That kiss.
That fucking kiss that has haunted me, oh, every hour of every day since then.
We get to my apartment building and turn on the sidewalk toward it. I open the main door, and we stroll toward my door, him close behind me. I can practically feel his heat pouring off his skin, warming my own flesh. And here I am, looking unsexy as hell in my nursing scrubs. Splendid.
I open my door and let us in. It doesn’t matter if I’m sexy or not. I’m not going to go anywhere with him or do anything else. It was a random kiss and that was all.
A random kiss that practically knocked my panties off. But whatever. I don’t need another one. It’s fine. I keep repeating that sentiment in my head over and over.
Smith follows me to the kitchen and puts the bags on my countertop. He’s in my kitchen and his presence fills up the entire space and I don’t know what to do. How to respond. How to pretend like I’m not affected by him when I am.
I just hope he can’t read it on me. I hope my pretense of not caring is somehow working, and he can’t tell just how badly I want him.
I press my backside against the stove. “Um. Well, thanks for helping me carry my groceries.”
He gives a short nod. Turns.
Before I can stop myself, I find more words flying out of my mouth. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I don’t even know if he’s at the bar tonight, or why I said that. Why I invited rejection again. What is wrong with me?
It was nothing but pure panic, just me saying anything to kill the silence and not feel so overwhelmed in his presence.
Smith slowly spins back to face me, takes a couple of steps forward until there’s just an inch or two between our bodies. My heart slams against my ribcage and my skin vibrates with the need for him to touch me. God, I’d give anything for him to reach his hands up and caress my skin. To feel his fingers on me again, the way he did on Friday, when he stroked my back.
Smith levels his gaze on me, and there’s a distinct challenge in his eyes. The look penetrates me to the bone, rips open my soul and bares me to him beyond my control. He can see me, deep inside, see exactly how I feel for him, how badly I want him. And his responding look is so hot and intense it makes me melt. “I look forward to it.”
With that, he walks out of my kitchen, the front door quietly snicking closed behind him.
I stand where I am, body pulsing with need, throat closed, lungs tight, heart racing. It takes me several minutes to steady myself. To pretend that Smith isn’t totally changing everything in my world. That he hasn’t flipped my plans upside down. I wasn’t going to go to Outlaws tonight. But suddenly I can’t wait to see him again.
SMITH
“Asher, I need you to see if we have another keg of Barstones,” I bark to the back room as I release the tap. Fucking foam—someone should have replaced this keg by now. Why does it seem like I’m always the one to notice this shit? “Get on it—we have a customer waiting.”
I hear Asher sigh from the office behind me. “Fine, fine,” he mumbles. I wonder if he’s regretting coming home for summer vacation from college to help out at the bar. I tried to get him to stay on campus, find a local job, stay away from here, but he insisted on coming home. He’s a Beckett—stubborn to the core.
But Asher is going to be the one to escape this shit soon enough. To live his own destiny. Get his degree and forge his own path outside of the family business, the one that was dumped on our shoulders when Dad died a few years ago.
I don’t begrudge what I had to do. I made my choices, and I’m okay with it. And I knew before I even said anything about keeping the business afloat, that Jax would stay by my side. He’s an arrogant asshole most of the time, but he’s loyal as fuck. Not one to leave my side and make me handle Dad’s bar on my own.
Besides, Jax isn’t cut out for anything but this little world we inhabit.
Asher’s different.
Asher is our golden child, the one who excels in school and football, who’s going on to bigger and better things. Move out of our shitty town and be someone. Make our name proud. And here he is, not quite twenty-one, stuck in Shitsville with the rest of us losers because he’s too stubborn to take my advice.
Asher gets the fresh keg hooked up to the tap. When he’s done, he brushes his hands and looks at me. I know he’s seeking my approval, for me to not be irritated about him coming home. “Done,” he says.
I give him a brief nod. “Next time, don’t wait until it’s fucking tapped. Keep an eye on it. If you’re going to be here, at least do your job.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, walking away. In the end, I just want the best for him. He may not like it, but so be it. I can’t worry about his frustration right now. I have bigger things on my plate. Like how the fuck we’re going to pay all our bills when we’re not making enough money. I’m barely paying the three of us as it is.
I peer around the Monday night crowd. It’s thin, too thin. A couple of people by the pool table. A few scattered around the bar, drinking cheap beer. How do I get more customers to bring their asses in here, spend their money? What should we do? The pressure of keeping Dad’s business alive is squarely on my shoulders. We’re barely floating by each month.
Fuck, I can’t even afford to hire anyone else outside of our family. Yeah, I’m pissed that Asher came back this summer, but it did relieve our stress a bit, giving us a cheap helping hand.
The main door opens, and in walks Aubrey, wearing the tightest fucking jeans I’ve ever seen and a black T-shirt that looks painted on her skin. The outfit is simple but effective. Fuck me, she looks so good I want to jump over the bar and eat her alive.
My whole body is thrumming upon seeing her, and my cock pulses, pressing against the fly of my jeans. Shit. I will myself to lose my instant engorgement. I’m not going to entertain this attraction I have for her. I can’t. Not only am I wrong for her, she’s wrong for me. She’s innocent and naïve, not my type. I like my women experienced. Hardened, distant, even cynical.
I can take them to bed and we have some fun, but it never goes past that, and the kind of women I’m used to understand that. They enjoy it.
But Aubrey is different. Aubrey wouldn’t be okay with the occasional fuck, the late night drinks followed by a blowjob. She would want to be wined and dined and she deserves that much and more.
Only, I know I can’t give her any of it. I’m hardly keeping my head above water and the last thing I need is another person counting on me.
Jax slides up beside me. “She is pretty,” he murmurs, giving her an appraising look. “Probably amazing in bed, too.”
“Don’t even fucking thinking about it,” I retort. I don’t have any right to be possessive of her, I know, but I am. And I don’t want to spend any time mulling on the reasons why.
Jax shoots me a knowing look. The fucker can see right through me. Always could. He’s so good at reading unspoken thoughts. A couple of women have asked him if he’s psychic. “You like this girl,” he says. It’s not a quest
ion.
“Not at all.” I give a casual shrug, hoping he’ll buy it. “She’s not well suited for our bar. But I don’t want to be a dick to her or anything. We should just leave her alone.” There, a nice and easygoing answer. Nothing that reveals the true depth of my strange, unwanted feelings. The deep-down longing I have to tug her toward me again, taste her mouth again.
To taste more. To rip those tight jeans down, shove her panties aside, and lick the fuck out of that wet pussy.
I bet her come tastes amazing on my tongue.
My cock throbs harder at the thought. I can’t seem to push the images aside quite so easily. Because looking at her, perched on the bar stool, so innocent and unknowingly sexy, makes me want to do wicked, dirty things to her. Mess up that glossy hair and watch her unravel for me.
Jax shoots me a long look, then turns his back on me deliberately and moves over to her. “What can I get you?” he asks Aubrey.
She murmurs something to him, and he nods, strolls over to the bar, and pours her a beer. I bet it’s the beer I recommended for her that first night. I studiously keep my attention on the tasks at hand, cleaning the bar and serving other customers. I can’t let myself fall into this…whatever I’m feeling.
Because this girl isn’t like Maria. She doesn’t seem like the person who would flit from one sexual encounter to another, not caring too much, not getting attached. She seems like the forever type, and I don’t fucking want that at this point in my life.
Right?
I finish pouring a beer for Sam when Aubrey’s eyes connect with mine. I feel it square in my gut, a pull toward her. There’s a crackle of attraction between us so strong, I’m surprised no one else in the bar is winded by it. It almost knocks me off my fucking feet. The heat in her eyes, the smoky promise… No, no, no, I keep chanting, but I feel myself weakening.
I want her.
Plain and simple truth. I want her. I want to push inside her. I want to grip her hair and tug her scalp and lick her bared throat. I want to tie her wrists and ankles to my bed, make her helpless, weak, wet for me.
I want to leave my marks on her, bruise that delicate flesh, have her sore and aching after I ravage her.
But my cravings are most definitely too dark for her. And even if they weren’t, I’m not going to be any good for her. My life is way too fucked up and complicated to have anything to offer a girl like her. I’m not the white-picket-fence kind of guy. I can’t let myself start thinking otherwise.
Just having her here in Outlaws worries me. She shouldn’t even be within ten miles of me or this fucking place. It’s not safe—I’m not safe.
Jax lingers by her, talking with her, and she gives him a beatific smile. I find my own heart clenching in response. Fuck, how can she be so beautiful? Even still, with the glow on her face, I can see something deeper lingering underneath. An emotion that seems to haunt her, that has haunted her since I first met her.
I shouldn’t let myself care about what’s going on with this chick. But I want to know. Why did she move to our town, our state, of all places? Why does she have that sadness around her?
Is she as pure and innocent as she seems?
Could she ever be interested in entertaining my dirtiest desires? The way I’d love to bend her over and smack my hand on her ass, just to start? Leave my handprint on her skin as a mark of ownership, of possession?
How I’d like to sink my teeth into the back of her neck? Cuff her to my bed? Brand the insides of her thighs with the suction of my mouth, the clench of my teeth? My hunger is deep and wicked, always unsatisfied.
There’s no way Aubrey could fulfill that. She looks too fragile and innocent to be into any sort of pain.
Then she shoots me a look. Her eyes connect with mine over my brother’s shoulders, and there’s a heat in there that surprises me, floods my body. Like she knows she’s driving me crazy and she wants to. Like she wants me hungry for her. I see the way one side of her mouth crooks in the corner. How her eyes lower ever so slightly, hooded, aroused. She wants me too. I can see it plain as day.
God, I need to fuck her. Right fucking now.
It takes a herculean effort to make myself turn away from her and move toward the office. My refuge. I can’t think straight around her, can’t focus. My whole body is on fire for Aubrey, my fingers itching to grip her hard and leave small bruises on her flesh. I’m dirty, filthy, unworthy, but God help me, I want to pollute her a little with my sin. Make this angel learn how to love the darkness.
I spend a good half hour in the office, shuffling papers around blindly. Trying to convince my raging cock to calm down and lose its erection. But every time I do, I think about Aubrey’s sexy mouth, her on her knees, peering up at me with those innocent eyes. And my dick screams to be released from my pants and allowed to come.
She can’t keep showing up at Outlaws, right? If I ignore her, she’ll eventually stop dropping by. I should be happy at the thought, but it leaves a heavy feeling in my chest. Something about her smile is addictive; I want more.
I nearly thunk my head against the desk. Stop being a fucking shithead, I chastise myself. This isn’t like me. I don’t lose my cool over girls. They’re fun to touch and kiss and fuck, but that’s it.
I never want more from them.
Finally, I manage to cool myself down enough to emerge from the office. I’m back in control. Back to myself. Chill. Collected. Unattached.
I walk to the bar and will myself to not look at Aubrey. I’m not going to fucking look at her. She’s just a customer, that’s all. Nothing else.
My gaze slides, unbidden, over to her.
There’s a slim but fit guy I don’t recognize, wearing a tight, faded blue shirt. He’s leaning toward her, his teeth flashing, and she’s smiling at him. He’s charming, clean-cut. Engaging too, from what I’m seeing. Probably a better fit for her than I am, that’s for fucking sure.
Tell that to my chest though, because it’s so tight it feels like my lungs are going to squeeze out. Jealousy burns my veins.
I don’t want anyone else getting that smile. The one that makes a man feel like the center of her world. I need that smile for myself. It’s one thing to convince myself I don’t want her. Another to be faced with the possibility of her bringing a different man back to her apartment tonight.
Before I can question myself, I walk over to their side of the bar. I ignore the guy completely and lock eyes on her, giving her the full weight of my stare.
Letting her know exactly how far I’m willing to go, letting her see what I want—no holding back.
Aubrey’s breath catches; I see the hitch in her chest as she swallows, stares back. The heat in her eyes slides beneath my skin, thickens my dick. I need to taste her mouth so badly right now I can barely see.
I have to get her away from this guy. That’s the sole thought throbbing through me. I want her. I want her so much it hurts.
The guy clears his throat. “I’d like another Bud Light, please.”
I don’t take my gaze off Aubrey, though. I want to hear what she’s going to say. Can she read the desire in my eyes?
Aubrey licks her upper lip, a small swipe of her pink tongue that makes my dick pulse. “I’m…going to, uh, go to the restroom.” Then she pauses, gives me a meaningful look. A loaded look.
Fuck. Fuck yes.
It takes all my patience to wait, pour the Bud Light for this asshole. Give her a moment to work her way slowly to the hallway toward the bathroom.
Then I move.
My pulse pounds so hard as I walk toward the women’s bathroom. I hope to God no one is in there, because I’m going to kick everyone out. I need to taste her pussy right fucking now, and there isn’t any force on earth that can stop me.
I whip the door open and see Aubrey spin around from the center of the room, her gaze a little nervous, her fingers twisting in front of her. A quick glance around and at the bottom of the two stalls shows no one else is in here.
I turn the lock
and click it closed behind us. Stalk toward her. “You came here tonight for me, didn’t you,” I say.
She swallows, nods. Releases her fingers and presses her hands to the sides of her jeans.
“I hope you’re ready.”
“For what?” Her words are barely a breath when I grab her by the waist and angle her ass toward the bathroom sink. In a moment I have her jeans unbuttoned. In another, they are unzipped and sliding down her skin.
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