Blaire (Corked and Tapped Book 9)

by Becca Jameson

  He was grinning, but then his face fell and he reached out a hand to cup her shoulder. “Relax. I was kidding. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to freak you out. It was rude.”

  She swallowed, forcing herself not to be such a prude. “No. It’s fine. The truth is I’d love to see your chest. You caught me.”

  His brows rose, and he dropped the fry he held back onto the plate, pushing the rest of them to the side. If she wasn’t mistaken, now his face was flushed. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re welcome to see my chest any time you want, but Mike frowns on us taking our shirts off in the bar.”

  Yep. Her face could get warmer. “Bummer.” What else was she supposed to say? It wasn’t like she could say, “Well, then, how about you come to my apartment tomorrow night? Saturdays are my night to have sex there.”

  Gah. Besides, tomorrow wasn’t even Saturday. And she was totally out of her element. In addition, if she didn’t stop flirting with Kyle, she was liable to screw up the best thing she had going in her life. Friday nights staring at him while he worked.

  “Kyle,” someone from across the room called out. Blaire shifted her gaze to see Jeremy, the other bouncer, helping an older man toward the door. The guy was struggling to remain upright.

  “Damn.” Kyle shoved off the table and hurried across the room, leaving Blaire to go over the last few moments in her head.

  Jesus. Thank God they were interrupted. She couldn’t imagine what came next in their conversation. She was still shaking, shocked at how forward she’d been. What the hell possessed her to tell Kyle she wanted to see his chest?

  She didn’t even glance at her watch before she picked up her book and stuffed it back in her satchel. There was no way she could concentrate on it again tonight anyway, and besides, she felt like breaking the rules.

  She groaned internally. Rules. Her own rules. Stupid ones like how she forced herself to finish her schoolwork before she could read for pleasure. As both Jade and Kyle had pointed out, it was a four-day break. She could spend time reading romance novels for three days if she wanted. Her rigid, self-imposed schedule was absurd.

  Blaire reached for her bag, intending to pull out something more pleasant to read, and then she stopped herself. Maybe tonight she would go way out of her comfort zone and stare at her fantasy man instead of reading. She put her glasses away. After that verbal exchange with Kyle, she was a wreck. Any moment, she would undoubtedly start squirming in her seat from arousal.

  One thing was for sure—she wasn’t immune to the effects of men. She was just…selective. Or chicken. Or afraid to confess to anyone that she was a virgin. Or any number of other excuses.

  Lately, her biggest excuse was that she had the hots for a giant bouncer at her favorite bar who spent his days in the gym making his body even bigger for her enjoyment. Before she’d met him, she hadn’t considered if she had a “type.” After she met him, she still couldn’t be sure because there were other buff men in the world, and none of them turned her head like Kyle. Not even Jeremy, who arguably was nearly identical.

  Except Jeremy’s skin was a shade lighter, he didn’t have tattoos, his hair was slightly longer, and he kept a stylish, perfectly trimmed, short-cropped beard.

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t the same, but his physique was identical.

  While Blaire watched the two bouncers manhandle the drunk man out of the bar, someone’s back slammed into her table, knocking over her tonic water and sending it directly toward her.

  She gasped as the nearly full, cold drink hit her chest like a bucket of ice water. There had been no way to stop it, and she was soaked all down the front of her—shit, dammit—white shirt.

  Blaire jumped to her feet, tugging the T-shirt away from her breasts where it clung to her bra. Great. She groaned, but far more unfortunate than the drink debacle was that she didn’t pay attention to what happened to cause the spill.

  When she lifted her gaze, shaking out her shirt, she realized two men were fighting. The guy who must have bumped into her table had his back to her. The other man had his fist in the air. When the attacker swung, the man closest to her ducked.

  And that was how Blaire got punched hard, right in the face.

  Chapter 3

  Blaire staggered backward, her shoulders hitting the wall as pain spread across her face and down her neck. She couldn’t take a breath. She’d never been struck in her life, so the stunning pain shocked her.

  The world seemed to move in slow motion as her eyes widened, and her hand went to her jaw. Kyle materialized, his fists gripped the shirt of the man who’d hit her, and he dragged the guy down the back hallway where the restrooms were located.

  Jeremy had the other man, the one who’d ducked, in his clutches and was moving in the same direction.

  Mike appeared in front of her. Fury pulled his eyebrows together, and his lips were pursed as he stomped closer. “My God, Blaire. Are you okay?”

  Someone shoved Mike out of the way. Kyle. He immediately stepped right in front of her, inches between them, his hands settling on her neck. “Fuck. Jesus. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

  She winced as he slid a finger up to touch her cheek. It stung. “It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured.

  “Like hell. It’s my fucking job.” He didn’t meet her gaze. His attention was on her cheek. Someone handed him a white package of some sort, and he pressed it against her face.

  She winced again. Ice. Right. Of course. It hurt, though, and she tried to lean away from it.

  Kyle wasn’t having that. He set his other hand against the side of her face to steady her, pressing the ice gently against her cheek. He was breathing heavily. His body was tense. She thought he might punch someone himself if they came close.

  “The police are on their way,” Mike said from beside Kyle.

  “Police?” Blaire asked. It hurt to speak, so she winced again.

  Kyle rubbed her opposite cheek with his thumb.

  “Why did you take them toward the back instead of tossing them out the front like you usually do?” she asked, blinking up at Kyle, trying not to move too many facial muscles.

  He finally met her gaze, his expression confused. “That guy punched you, Blaire.”

  “Yeah? Did you kick him out the back instead?”

  “Noooo… Jeremy is guarding the two assholes in the hallway until the cops get here.”

  She heard the sirens.

  “You don’t usually call the police when there’s a fight,” she pointed out.

  He stared at her for a moment, and then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “The fucking hot woman who’s been nervously watching my every move for months while she sits in my bar squirming in her seat over a romance novel doesn’t usually get caught in the middle of a fight and punched either. So, yeah, the police are coming. You need to press charges. Then I’ll take you home.”

  She swallowed. Mortification was the only word that came to mind. Her face had heated earlier, but now it was on fire, and not just from the punch. In fact, that part no longer hurt.

  He knew?

  Lord.

  He knew. Kyle knew she had been sitting here week after week stripping him with her eyes while he worked. Could she be more embarrassed?

  He set his forehead against hers. “Please, baby. Don’t freak out on me now. Talk to the cops. Give a statement. Then we’ll leave.”

  She couldn’t move. He’d called her baby.

  He sighed. “I know you don’t like attention. I know this is uncomfortable for you. I get that. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t close enough to stop those guys from hitting you.” He removed the ice from her face, reached behind him to snag her bag off the table and her jacket from the chair, and grabbed her hand.

  Before she knew what was happening, he tugged her around the corner, past the men who’d been fighting, and into a room farther down the hall.

  The guy who’d punched her called out, “So sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to hit you.
I just—” His voice was cut off when Kyle slammed the door, leaving them in relative silence.

  He flipped on the light and then his hands were on her face again, his brow furrowed, his attention on her cheek.

  “It’s fine, Kyle,” she whispered. “It’s no longer throbbing. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he inhaled long and slow, seemingly controlling his anger. Was he mad at her? She pressed her lips together to keep from rambling. Maybe he was frustrated because she wouldn’t shut up.

  Kyle closed his eyes and set his forehead against hers a second time, his hands spread on her neck and up her scalp. He took several deep breaths, and then he whispered, “Scared the fuck out of me.”

  She swallowed, uncertain why he was reacting like this. She had no idea what he meant, and she was afraid to ask.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Kyle released her to spin around and open it. Mike stood there, along with a police officer. “Officer Bradshaw has a few questions,” Mike stated as he stepped into the tightly confined room, followed by the officer.

  Blaire finally had a chance to glance around and realized this had to be Mike’s office. She took a step back to make more room in the cramped space. She also didn’t have to say much. Kyle immediately explained to the officer what had happened. Blaire confirmed. The cop left. Mike left. Done.

  Blaire blew out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them, but then Kyle’s attention was on her again. “I’m going to take you home.”

  Her eyes went wide and she shook her head. “No. You can’t.”

  He frowned and then rolled his eyes. “Your roommate is there.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ll just hit a fast food joint and grab a milkshake or something to kill time.”

  He shook his head. “Like hell. Wait here.” Kyle set her book bag and jacket on the loveseat behind her, spun around, and left the room, shutting the door behind him once again.

  Finally, she was alone. She reached for her cheek and worked her jaw open and closed a few times. It was going to be sore tomorrow, but nothing was broken. Everyone was overreacting. She just wanted to get out of here. Being the focus of so much attention made her nervous.

  One thing was certain—she wasn’t staying here any longer tonight, so she grabbed her jacket, slid it on, and picked up her satchel.

  She jumped when the door opened again and Kyle reappeared. “Come on.” He nodded toward the hallway, his enormous body filling the doorframe.

  She searched his face but had no idea what he had in mind. Nevertheless, her best option was to follow him. Obviously, he had a plan, and arguing wasn’t in the cards. When he grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway and out the back door, her entire focus honed in on their connection.

  Kyle was holding her hand. Kyle had set his lips on her ear. Kyle had lost his shit when someone accidentally punched her. Surely, she was sleeping and this was a fantastic dream—minus the part where she got punched.

  It was chilly outside. November in Georgia. Any temperature was possible. Kyle was wearing a T-shirt, but he seemed impervious to the cooler night air. Still holding her hand, he kept walking, too fast for her to keep up.

  “Kyle,” she called out.

  He spun his head around. His brow was still furrowed. Anger wafted off of him. His gaze roamed down her body to her legs. “Shit. Sorry.” He slowed his pace.

  “Where are we going? Don’t you have to keep working?” She glanced back at the bar as they crossed the parking lot.

  “Jeremy’s covering for me. They’ll live for one night.” He didn’t answer her first question, and his voice was still clipped.

  Her heart was racing. Nothing made sense. If he was mad at her, why was he helping her? She couldn’t imagine what his plan was, but she clamped her mouth shut again and let him lead. It wasn’t like she had a fantastic plan herself. Maybe he was heeding her milkshake idea and wanted to see her there safely out of some misplaced guilt for not protecting her from some random accident of time and space.

  At least he wasn’t nearly running anymore. She had to walk fast to keep up, but she didn’t have a choice because he was still gripping her hand in his larger, warmer, stronger one.

  They walked two blocks, and then Kyle stopped in front of a building and pulled out a keycard. He brushed it over the scanner and the outer door clicked open.

  “Kyle?” she asked.

  He set his hand on the small of her back and continued leading her to the elevator. After being silent for far too long, he still didn’t say a word as they rode to the fourth floor and then stepped out.

  Blaire was staring at him, confused and a little nervous.

  It wasn’t until after he opened the third apartment door on the left that she realized where she was. “This is your apartment,” she pointed out.

  He took her bag, his face finally softening. “Yeah. You couldn’t go to yours. There wasn’t another option.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to move from where she stood by the door, but Kyle padded across the room and disappeared, leaving her there. He returned moments later with a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “This’ll help.” He settled it against her cheek, his free hand on her shoulder.

  “You eat peas?” She had no idea why that was the first question to come to mind, but there it was.

  He chuckled. “No. But I keep them in case I get punched.”

  She flinched. “You get punched often?”

  “It happens. Occasionally, I get between two guys going at it in the bar and wind up taking a hit.” He reached for her hand and drew it up to settle it on the peas and then released her. “Come sit down. Sorry, my place is a mess. I hadn’t expected company.”

  Blaire didn’t move. “You didn’t have to do this. I would have figured something out. You left your job.”

  He sighed. “You could have figured something out? You mean like your plan to sip a milkshake at a fast food joint until it closed? I can’t believe your roommate kicks you out every week like this. It’s weird.” He frowned.

  “Well, she’s fair about it. I get Saturday nights.” It hurt to smile, but she did it.

  His expression went from concerned to horrified, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open. “You’re serious?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, not that I’ve ever exercised the option, but the point is she’s fair about it.”

  Kyle blew out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. You freaked me out there for a minute.”

  She cocked her head to one side, confused again. He said the strangest things.

  The peas were too cold, and besides, they were unnecessary at this point. The pain in her cheek was barely noticeable. She handed them back to him. “Thanks. Listen, I feel bad about you leaving work over this.”

  He shook his head. “Stop apologizing. If I hadn’t been dragging a drunk guy out to an Uber, I could have stopped that jerk from punching you. My fault.” He tossed the peas on the coffee table and then tucked the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and rocked forward and backward on his feet.

  Chapter 4

  The silence was deafening and awkward, so Blaire turned her gaze to take in his living room. The main piece of furniture was a black leather couch facing a large flat-screen television. The entertainment center was huge and featured not only gaming equipment but books. In fact, the room was cluttered with books, surprising her.

  She hadn’t pegged Kyle as a book guy. He’d spent the last several months teasing her about all her books when in truth, he was clearly reading several volumes at once himself. Two books were open and flipped upside down on his coffee table to hold their place. One had a bookmark. Three were stacked on an end table.

  Curious, Blaire sauntered farther into the room. She glanced at the current volumes and then headed for the wall of shelves, realizing she would know a lot more about this man from the literature he owned.

  There were several row
s of action and mystery. At least a dozen about health and fitness and working out. And then her gaze landed on a book called How to Give Your Girlfriend the Best Orgasms.

  She stopped breathing and let just her eyes scan the surrounding books. All of them were about sex. She rubbed her hands together, feeling far more awkward than five minutes ago.

  Kyle suddenly slid between her and the shelves. “Come sit down,” he repeated. He took her arm and gave a tug, luring her toward his sofa. “You’ve seen books before.”

  She lowered onto his sofa, sliding her palms under her thighs. “You have quite an eclectic collection.”

  He sat next to her, angling his body sideways to face her. “I like to switch things up.”

  She reached forward and picked up one of the books he was reading from the coffee table.

  Before she had a chance to see the title, he snatched it from her hand, closed it, and set it behind his back. She had not missed the word sex on the front, however.

  She met his gaze. His face was red. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You sure research a lot about sex.”

  He groaned.

  “I should go.” She was totally out of her element.

  He reached for her hand and clasped it. “Don’t. Please. Stay.”

  “I feel weird. I’m not in the habit of going home from bars with men. I mean, I’ve actually never done such a thing. Nor do I bring men home with me. I wasn’t kidding about the Saturday night thing. I’ve exercised that option zero times.” She had no idea where she was getting this newfound bravery.

  Kyle rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Obviously I don’t bring women home with me either or I wouldn’t leave my place littered with embarrassing books.”

  “And why exactly do you have so many how-to books about sex?” He was the sort of guy she assumed hadn’t needed any help getting a girl since about the second grade. Wasn’t he?

  He took a deep breath and shrugged. “Just like to be informed. I don’t want you to be nervous in my apartment. We’ve known each other for months. Besides, you know where I work. You know my boss. You know all my coworkers. If I did anything to upset you, you could easily get me fired. Besides, have you ever seen me once do anything that made you nervous about me?”