GRADEN
I don't even know what just happened but I know I don't like it. I hate it, as a matter of fact.
I screwed up today. I know what I want. I know what she wants. What I don't know is how to live with myself if we both get what we want. So instead, I acted like nothing happened in that dressing room, and now she thinks I don't want her. It might be easier if I didn't—but I sure as hell don’t want her believing that she isn't desirable.
I'm doing pull-ups to kill time and work out some energy when my mind strays to what she's doing tonight. She was hiding something from me. As I conjure up the ways I think she might be reacting to being shut down from me after I worked her up, I don't like where my mind goes.
She isn't going out to keep her friend company tonight. She's going out to make bad decisions. I can feel it. I should have seen it in her eyes earlier.
Fuck. I never should have come on to her in the dressing room. But I did. I was like some asshole staking a claim to her, and then I let her dangle in the wind not knowing where she stood. I'm the worst kind of jerk. She deserves so much better than me.
And I think she's going to go looking for it tonight.
Maybe that would be best.
But what if she's too upset and not thinking clearly? What if she puts herself in a dangerous position to prove something to me?
Fucking Cameron. Why did he ask me to take care of her? He knew exactly how unsuited for the job I am. He had to know he couldn’t trust me with his baby sister. He would kick my ass if he saw how I treated her. He'd slit my throat if he could see my thoughts about her.
Fucking Cameron, why'd you have to die?
I shower. I eat. I try to watch a game. I find my keys. I drive to the bar. I curse myself the whole way.
She's the first thing I see when my eyes adjust to the dim interior at The Dive. There's very little light in the joint, but what there is attaches to her, singling her out to me. She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I've never been in over my head with a woman before. But I'm drowning in her. I don't even want to be rescued.
She's talking to some punk. His hand is pretty close to her drink, and I'm worried that he thinks he's going to put something in it. She's paying attention, though, and slides her hand over the top of the glass while she's pretend-laughing at something he says.
I know her real laugh, her real smile. And that ain't it.
I move through the crowd with her in my sights. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. She's my prey, and I'm a goddamned hunter. I don't think I can stop this now. That beast is back, and he won't be satisfied until she's ours.
As I get closer, I notice how low her shirt buttons start, and I know I'm not the only one appreciating the peekaboo of her bra. I was right. She is looking for trouble tonight. I guess she's going to find it.
I'm going to give her a hell of a lot of trouble.
She senses me staring at her and looks up, her lips drawing into a shocked "O." She grabs her friend's arm to get her attention, and Jenn gets that same surprised look. The dude talking her up takes one look at me and moves away.
Good choice, motherfucker.
"Graden?" she says when I reach her.
"I'm taking you home." The words are raw, and I didn't mean to say them. That damn beast inside got control for a second.
She narrows those eyes that shoot dagger-glares at me. "I don't think so. I'm happy here. And you don't get to tell me what to do."
"That's not what you were thinking earlier today."
She sputters, and I don't blame her. What the hell is my problem?
Jenn grabs her arm. "Do you want me to call somebody?" she asks Rebecca, eyeing me nervously.
I'm glad she has a friend who worries about her. "You don't ever need to protect her from me."
She and Rebecca exchange an entire conversation using just their eyes, and then Jenn tells us she's going to go find her boyfriend.
After she leaves, Rebecca gives me a look that might work on her students, but doesn't do shit except get me hotter for her. I am on fucking fire. Then she downs her drink the way she probably learned in college.
She sets her empty glass on the bar behind her. "You should go. I want to stay here."
"Thought maybe we could have another lesson tonight." My words are meant to be light, but I know they don't sound like it. I'm thirty seconds away from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her ass out of here.
She shakes her head like she's dismissing me. "I changed the course objectives."
"Oh yeah? What are they now?"
"I decided I don't need to get to date number three. A one-night stand to take the edge off is a better plan."
The air in my lungs freeze. I don't think she's bluffing. "You're just going to pick some random guy and get it over with then, huh?"
Rebecca shrugs. "It's not your problem. I'm sorry I dragged you into it."
"So, who's the lucky guy?" I look around. "Tell me is isn't the punk I scared off already."
I've never seen the mask she's wearing now. Tough girl. Tired of my shit. "I think I'll have better luck if you leave."
Like. Hell.
"Why don't you give me a dry run? Work out the kinks. Pretend I'm the guy. Show me how you're getting me in your bed."
She narrows her eyes. "You're being a real asshole, you know that?"
Yeah, baby. I know that.
"Just show me, Rebecca. You wanted my advice, remember? You wanted me to help you figure out what you were doing wrong."
She glances around, probably looking for a drink to throw in my face, but everyone around us is holding theirs and her glass is empty. With a sigh, she reaches out to me and straightens the collar of the flannel I'd thrown on. Then she gives me a little smile. "I bought a new perfume today. Tell me what you think," she says sort of breathlessly, bringing her wrist up to my nose.
When did she buy a new perfume? I sniff dutifully, and it seems like the same perfume she's been wearing that drives me nuts. It's a light scent, not particularly evocative. But it's sort of elusive. I can only ever get hints of it at home, and it makes my gut clench for a deeper pull of the scent.
As she brings her hand down, she skims the front of my shirt. "Well, do you like it?"
"I…yeah…sure." I don't know why I'm tongue-tied. Then she flips her hair, just a touch, and I realize I'm being bamboozled.
She slides her hand around my wrist and reads the time on my watch. "My, it's getting late." She bites her lip and stares at mine. "Luckily, tomorrow is Sunday and I don't have to do anything but lounge around in bed all day."
Now I'm picturing her sliding around in my sheets. And that's her plan. She's…she's flirting with me.
She lets go of my wrist and leans against the bar on her elbows, which thrusts her tits out. I step between her legs, lean down into her space without touching her. Without touching those tits sticking up, testing the barrier of the small buttons. "You pick out this lucky man yet?"
She looks around the room like she's bored and shrugs. "Maybe the guy in the red shirt down there." She's tilting her head to the end of the bar, but I don't bother looking.
"You don't want him."
"No?"
I shake my head. "No." My heart is beating a primal beat, and my blood is too hot. "You want me."
She bites that lip again. "A guy like you, remember?"
Her words, the echo of our conversation earlier, are like a bullet tearing its way through me. Reminding me how I treated her today. How no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do or don't do, I am going to hurt her.
My eyes move from that damn lip down to the column of her throat, where her pulse jumps like I'm touching her. To the cleavage she's not hiding. To the black lace peeking through. She bought that bra today. With me. And hell if she's wearing it home with some other man. The scene in front of the mirror plays out in my mind, and I'm hard. Maybe harder than I've ever been.
"We're going home. Now." Before I can't stop myself from taking her here, in this bar, in front of God and everyone. Because I want to mark her. Claim her. And I want everyone to know she's mine. "You're going to break me tonight, Rebecca. And I'm going to teach you how."