by S. R. Grey
She smells sweet, like honeysuckles or something. I don’t know. All I do know is that I want to drink her in.
Casually, I drape an arm around the back of her seat.
She scoots closer, her right knee touching my left.
I don’t pull away, and neither does she.
Things are sizzling now.
When I blow out a stuttered breath, she glances over at me.
Even in the darkness, I can see that her eyes are definitely fucking aqua.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
Suddenly, and surprising the shit out of me, this chick I’ve just met fucking leans in and presses her lips to mine.
Jesus, they’re soft.
I’m stunned at first and don’t really respond.
I guess she takes that the wrong way, as she jerks back, shrinking down into her seat.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I don’t know what came over me.”
After turning my ball cap around so that the bill’s in the back, I place my hand on her arm.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You just caught me off guard. But now that I’ve caught up”—I close the gap between us—“I think we need to revisit where we just left off.”
“You do?”
I touch my lips to hers, brushing over them softly.
“Yes, I definitely do,” I murmur.
“Okay.”
I kiss her gently at first, just some little nips and soft pecks. But when she opens her mouth and our tongues touch, I forget that we’re in a theatre.
All I know is honeysuckles and soft woman.
I can’t stop.
I lift the hem of her sweater an inch, testing.
She groans, and I kiss her harder, moving my hand up her taut tummy, seeking out the swell of her breasts.
Through the silky material of her bra, I ply at one taut nipple.
She gasps into my mouth and places her hand on my jean-clad thigh.
Yes!
Letting out a low growl, I grab hold of her ponytail and tug.
She must like that, as she makes the sweetest little sound of assent.
She then slides her hand farther up my leg.
Up, up, up she goes.
Yeah, I’m hard as fuck now.
Going for it, she settles her hand right fucking there, on my cock.
Pulling back, I grind out, “Do you want to get out of here?”
She doesn’t say a thing.
She just blinks at me.
Okay, this is turning sideways.
A Woman Left Lonely
What in the hell am I doing?
I’m freaking making out with a complete stranger.
A hot stranger, yes, but still a man I know nothing about.
Suddenly, all my common sense returns with a vengeance.
This guy could be a serial killer for all I know!
Or he could be some kind of a psycho in general.
Yet here I am kissing him.
Letting him feel me up.
Putting my hand on his freaking cock, for God’s sake!
It felt huge, by the way.
No, stop. This is nuts.
I am nuts.
I’ve truly lost my mind.
I don’t even know this dude’s name.
And now is not the time to find out.
He wants to “get out of here.”
I know what that means.
The thing that scares me is I want to get out of here with him.
I want to go have mindless, meaningless sex with this hot stranger.
I bet he’s great in bed.
Despite all my yearning, I can’t do it.
I just can’t.
I’m a chicken.
Blinking at him, I jump up and stammer, “I, uh… I-I have to go.”
Looking confused as all get out, stranger-man-who-could-be-a-serial-killer says, “Wait, what? Why? What’s wrong? What just happened here?”
Waving my hand in the air like the lunatic he must think I am, I snap, “This, us. We are what’s wrong. Can’t you see that?”
“Er, um… No.”
I shake my head. “Seriously, dude, I don’t even know you.”
Chuckling, he murmurs, “Seems like we were getting to know each other just fine.”
He’s back to being a smug ass, and that just pisses me off even more.
“I am so out of here,” I grind out.
Spinning around, I storm off.
Thank God the exit is close.
It’s especially good, seeing as that old guy in the center aisle has just noticed the commotion in the back and is turning around, shushing us.
“You can go to hell too!” I yell over my shoulder at him.
Why I just damned the old man to Hades, I don’t know.
I guess I’m just frustrated.
Rushing out into the lobby, I pass through the theatre doors, and race to my car.
Thank God I found a spot right out in front.
It’s snowing, just like jerk-o said it would, but it’s fairly light.
I’m still so mad that it takes me a minute or two to notice it’s gotten much colder.
That’s kind of good.
I need to cool down.
As much as I hate snow, I’m glad it’s falling. It creates a thin coating on my windshield, like a protective cover. No one can see me inside, giving me time to get ahold of myself.
I need the reprieve.
I can’t drive, not yet.
I’m too worked up… in more ways than one.
Damn hot stranger!
In addition to finding myself sexually frustrated, I’m mad I did something so reckless.
What’s even crazier is I’m pissed I didn’t take it further.
Talk about contradictions!
“You just don’t know what you want, do you?” I whisper as I take in my reflection in the rearview mirror.
It seems that I don’t, not anymore.
For so long I wanted a real relationship, a romance for the ages. Despite a search for exactly that, one that extended far and wide thanks to all those dating sites, I never met anyone worthwhile.
“And now you’ve stooped to making out with strange men in old movie theatres.” I scoff. “How the mighty have fallen. Just look at you, Becca Nadeau. What’s up with you lately?”
I’m a wreck, that’s what’s up with me.
My lips are swollen, and loose strands of hair, having escaped from my once-neat ponytail, are sticking out everywhere.
I’m also flushed, making me look like a woman who just had a good romp in the hay with a hot-as-sin man.
Too bad that couldn’t be further from the truth.
No.
Instead, I’m a woman left sexually frustrated.
A woman left feeling foolish.
And a woman left lonely.
Take That, Cupid
I have no idea what just went down.
All I know is for a few short minutes—too short, really—I was sucking face with a sexy woman.
But now I’m sitting alone in the last row of a theatre with a goddamn hard-on, like some kind of a perv.
“Great,” I murmur, adjusting myself discreetly. “Nothing like leaving me high and dry, Crazy Girl.”
Of course the crazy girl is gone, the only thing lingering, letting me to know for sure she was really here, is the faint scent of honeysuckles.
I breathe in, and my erection jumps back to life.
Just wonderful.
“Fucking honeysuckles,” I grind out. “I guess this means any time I smell the damn things, I’ll get hard.”
I have to laugh.
This should make for an interesting spring.
I sure as hell hope there aren’t any honeysuckles near the practice field at the Comets’ training facility. If there are, my teammates are going to wonder what’s up with me. I mean, shit, no one enjoys scrimmages and running routes that much.
Ah, but I needn’t worry.
/> Official practices don’t start until May. I’ve been working out with my best friend and teammate, Caleb Fortier, but on a casual basis, as it is only February.
So, yeah, I should be good by spring.
Crazy Honeysuckle Girl will be a distant memory by mini-camp.
I chuckle to myself.
I am so going to have to tell Caleb about this bizarre night.
He’ll get a kick out of it.
With a sigh, I sit back and try to watch the movie.
It’s impossible, though.
It’s difficult to get into something you’ve missed the beginning of.
Since I have no idea what’s going on, I decide to just leave.
Once I’m outside, on the snow-covered sidewalk, I catch a glimpse of a car speeding away. Every instinct tells me it’s the crazy honeysuckle girl, running even farther from me.
It has to be her.
I smell her honeysuckle scent.
Of course, my dick twitches in response.
Traitorous bastard.
Shaking my head, I mutter, “I need to get out of here.”
Valentine’s Day is beyond ruined now.
The only positive is I did get to make out with a hot—albeit crazy—chick.
Take that, Cupid!
Consolation Prize
The next day, at our wedding consultant shop, which is really just a small storefront in a strip mall on the west side of Columbus, poor Jodi can’t figure out why I’m so down.
“Is it because yesterday was Valentine’s Day?” she asks, peering over at me from her desk with big, sad whiskey-colored eyes.
“No.” I shake my head, my blonde ponytail swinging. “Was it Valentine’s Day? Huh, I didn’t even notice.”
I am trying to play this off, but Jodi’s not buying my clueless act. She knows me too well. We’ve been friends since junior high, so not much gets by her when it comes to me.
Closing her laptop lid, she states somberly, “I think we need to talk about this, Becca.”
Continuing to act clueless, I ask, “Talk about what?”
“Stop it.” She holds up her hand. “We need to address why you’ve become so anti-love lately. I mean, it makes no sense. You used to be the biggest romantic I knew. I loved that about you too.” Pausing for a thoughtful beat, she goes on. “But here we are, you telling me that you didn’t even freaking notice it was Valentine’s Day!” She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. “That’s like Santa Claus forgetting Christmas.”
“Please.” I laugh. “That’s a bit overly dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so, Becca. Something is up. Something’s been up for a while. I don’t believe for a minute that you forgot Valentine’s Day. In fact, I think something happened last night.”
Ha, did it ever.
I made out with a possible serial killer.
How am I supposed to tell my best friend that?
Then again, if I can’t share my misdeeds with her, who can I share with?
Slowly, I blow out a breath. “Okay, okay. Something did happen,” I admit, pushing my chair out from under my desk so I can lean back and peer up at the ceiling. “I actually have a lot to confess.”
“Go on,” Jodi prompts.
I glance over at her sheepishly. “I did know it was stupid Valentine’s Day, all right? But I’d like to forget that it was. In fact, I’d like to erase the whole damn night.”
Frowning, Jodi asks, “Why?”
“Because I made a damn fool of myself, that’s why.”
“Becca, tell me what happened. I bet it wasn’t that bad.”
I snort. “Trust me, it was.”
I place my head in my hands and let out a little cry of anguish, and Jodi rolls her chair over to me.
Softly, she says, “Talk to me, okay? I can help.”
Lifting my head and peering at her dubiously, I roll my eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“Try me, okay? You know we always talk these things out, and it usually ends up with both of us feeling better.”
She’s right, so I close my eyes and begin my tawdry tale.
“So,” I sigh. “I went to some old movie last night. Not that I even watched a single minute of it.”
“And why is that, Becca?”
I open my eyes. “I, uh, kind of met a guy.”
Jodi, misunderstanding, gets all excited. Dropping her arm from around my shoulders, she claps her hands. “Oh my God, this is so great. Why were you afraid to tell me this? Is he cute? Is he nice? Are you going to see each other again? If so, when?”
I hold up my hand. “Whoa, wait, slow down.”
“Why? Isn’t this what those dating sites were all about? You always wanted to meet someone special, right?”
Exasperated, I blurt out, “Jodi, the only thing special about this guy is that he may be a serial killer!”
“Huh?”
That shuts her up, but it gets me going.
“I freaking kissed him,” I cry out. “No, wait, we totally made out. I made out with a guy whose name I didn’t even take the time to find out. I actually don’t know anything about him, Jodi. Only that he is insanely hot and an amazing kisser.”
Nodding thoughtfully, she says, “Well, there is that.”
I smack her arm. “Stop it. Didn’t you hear the part about him maybe being a serial killer?”
Rolling her eyes, Jodi says, “Of course I heard. But I’m sure he’s not one. Not to mention, he must’ve really gotten to you for you to be so, uh, animated about the whole thing.”
“Gotten to me or not, it doesn’t matter.”
Leveling me with a no-nonsense, we’re-getting-to-the-bottom-of-this gaze, Jodi says, “What’s really going on, Becca?”
I let out a groan. “I’m pathetic, that’s what’s going on. When things got real with me and this hot guy, I ran out like a baby. I’m sure he thinks I’m crazy. The only bright spot in this whole shit show is that I’ll never have to see him ever again. Never, never for the rest of my life! Thank God. That’s why I told you I wish I could erase the whole damn night. In my head, I already have.” I amend, “Well, I’m trying to. Those kisses, though…”
Softly, Jodi says, “I actually think I have a great way for you to erase the whole memory of him.”
“I’m intrigued.” I cock my head. “What do you propose?”
Excitedly, Jodi replies, “Let’s finally set you up with Caleb’s best friend, Lars. We’ve talked about it for so long. Let’s make it happen.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jodi.”
“Come on, Becca. There was a time you once asked me if Caleb knew anyone single and ready to mingle. You remember that, right?”
“I do,” I confirm. “But that was back when I believed in love.”
Jodi touches my arm. “You can believe in it again, sweetie. You’re going to meet your ‘one.’ I just know it. In the meantime, let’s set up this double date. Maybe you’ll like Lars. If nothing else, it’ll cheer you up and get your mind off the serial killer.”
“Ha ha, smartass.” I shoot her the bird.
Reaching out and lowering my hand, she says, “Hey, seriously, this could be a good thing. Caleb tells me all the time that Lars is a fun guy. Do you want to see a picture of him? He’s really hot.”
I think about it, but ultimately I decide if I’m going to do this I’m playing it my way. And my way is how I used to do things when I belonged to the blind date site.
Yep, I’m going in blind.
I only need to know the guy’s name.
That’s enough.
I don’t care, anyway.
I’m not expecting a love match or anything with this Lars dude.
I’m just going out to get Jodi off of my back. Lars, schmars.
I can’t tell my best friend, but, despite all my bluster to the contrary, the only man I’ll be thinking about for the foreseeable future is the hot guy at the theatre… and how I totally screwed up a chance to have possi
bly the best night of my life.
I Kind of Like Crazy
A few days after the theatre incident, I meet up with Caleb at the team gym to work out.
We have the place to ourselves since it’s the off-season.
That means we have the freedom to talk openly.
Good thing too, as I’m practically bursting at the seams to get off my chest what happened with the crazy chick at the movie theatre.
I tell Caleb about that night right away, leaving out not a single detail.
Once I’m done, he says, “Wow. That is one crazy story.”
“Tell me about it,” I chuff.
Wiping sweat from his brow, having just finished a series of hard reps, he asks, “Did you at least get her number?”
“Uh, no.” I shake my head. “I actually didn’t even catch her name.”
“Man, that sucks,” Caleb replies.
“Right?” I pick up a barbell and start a set of reps, focusing on my biceps. “I should’ve followed her out when she left. I could’ve gotten her name and number, maybe even asked her out on a date. It’s not like I was watching the movie by that point.”
I stop lifting long enough to shoot a meaningful glance over at Caleb.
He laughs. “Sounds like you’re still interested in her.”
I think it over and conclude, “Yeah, I am. I mean, hell, she’s pretty and she definitely intrigued me. I’d see her again in a heartbeat.”
Caleb scoffs. “Yeah, but I thought you said she was a little crazy?”
“She was.” I nod. “But I think I kind of like crazy.”
Caleb shakes his head. “Man, you must.”
Smartass.
I’m quick to remind him, “Hey, you and Jodi have had your moments.”
“That’s true.” Sitting down on the end of a weight bench, he says, “Speaking of Jodi, she brought up that fixing-you-up-with-someone idea again. Are you open to it? It could be good for you to meet a new woman. Maybe even get your mind off the crazy theatre chick.”
I shrug. “Yeah, sure, I’m up for it. I’m assuming you’re talking about that double date plan with her friend Becca, the one that never happened?”
“That would be the one. So what do you think?”
I scrub my hand down my face. “Ah, hell, I don’t know. What does this Becca even look like? No one’s ever shown me a picture.”
