CHAPTER 3

SCOTT

“God, I’ve missed you so much, Scott,” Ashley murmurs my name. Someone’s in the room with us, but that doesn’t stop her from running her mouth.

“We’re a little busy in here,” I say to the person who just barged in on us. All at once, I smell something familiar. “Do you smell that? Are you wearing a new perfume?” I sniff the air once more, trying to place where I’ve smelled it before.

“What are you talking about? I don’t smell anything.” She goes back to nibbling on my neck. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s touched me the way you used to touch me.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” I scoff. Who does she think she’s fooling? I know Ashley, and I know she has a fucking sex drive like no other woman I’ve ever encountered. Long time, my ass. I roll my eyes inwardly. Wait a second. Why the fuck should I care whether or not she’s been with someone else? We’re not getting back together. This is just sex. Right?

Long nails trace circles up and down my back before pausing to toy with the hem of my shirt. I know she wants me to take it off, but this isn’t the time, or the place. I catch her by the wrists and guide her hands between us, holding them there while I take a moment to catch my breath. What the fuck am I doing? My brain registers where this is headed, and even in my intoxicated condition it’s trying to tell me this is a very bad idea. Her hands break free of my hold and come to rest on my shoulders. Wet lips seek out the flesh on my neck. Soft moans fall past her lips between each kiss, and then she’s nibbling on my earlobe, whispering filthy words in my ear. My traitorous dick hardens at the sound of her voice, and within seconds, my full-blown erection threatens to burst through my goddamn zipper. Shit. This isn’t good. This woman knows exactly what she’s doing when it comes to turning me on. Then again, sex never played a part in my reasoning for breaking up with Ashley.

“Scott,” she fucking moans my name this time. Expert fingers give my dick a possessive squeeze before all too familiar lips meet mine in a greedy kiss. Her head falls back, exposing the column of her slender neck. I dip my head, but that familiar perfume still lingers in the air, reminding me of something from my past, but for the life of me, I can’t put my finger on it. I think the alcohol must be fucking with me. Whatever it was, it makes me take a step back and evaluate what’s happening right in this moment.

Eight months have passed since I came to my senses and left her standing in her parents’ living room in Cincinnati. I was doing fine. I’ve moved on. Gone on too many dates. Thought I’d fucked her out of my system. Then tonight, after months without contact, we ran into one another. Three beers and who knows how many shots later, we’re locked in a dingy bathroom stall.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

Her eyes meet mine, and the connection she’s seeking is more than I can handle right now. “You feel so fucking hot. Christ, baby. I almost forgot how big you are,” she purrs. “There’s no denying you want this as much as I do. Give it to me, Scott. Fuck me. Right here. Right now,” she commands. I freeze on the spot.

The sickest part of this whole scenario is, she’s right. There was a time in our relationship when I would have claimed her in this vile space. Hell, there was a time I would have claimed her in the middle of the damn dance floor. And she knows it. In fact, she’s counting on it right now. This realization hits me hard and something inside me snaps, as if the drunken haze I’ve been coasting in disappears and I finally see this for what it is.

Another. Stupid. Mistake.

I shouldn’t be doing this. This can’t happen again. It won’t happen again. Nostalgia and too much alcohol are what led me on this little trip down memory lane. Thank God I woke up in time to remember my two years with Ashley were nothing more than a dead-end road.

I lower my hands to my sides and take a step back, which is hard to do within this confined space. At the moment, I can’t seem to get far enough away, but she’s blocking the stupid door.

“No, Ashley. I’m sorry.” I scrub a hand over two days’ worth of stubble and do my best to look into her eyes so she’ll see just how serious I am. “This isn’t going to work.”

Her face drops, and she backs up against the stall door, shaking her head the whole time. “What won’t work? I don’t understand.”

“You. Me. This.” I gesture between us. “Us.”

Cupping my cheek in her hand, she traces a thumb over my bottom lip. Regarding me carefully before speaking again. “Have you forgotten how good we are together? ‘Cause I sure as hell haven’t. Everyone knows we’re perfect for each other. I know we’ve both said some things. Done things we probably regret. But for tonight, I’m willing to forget all of it.”

I remove her hand and huff out a laugh. “See, that’s just it, Ashley. I can’t forget. Better still, I don’t want to. We’re both better off leaving what we once shared in the past.” Taking her by the elbows, I move her away from the door and exit the stall. Leaving her to gape after me. I don’t bother turning around to see if she’s watching me walk away. I already know she is.

Everyone knows we’re perfect for each other?

It’s funny, but she has no idea how deeply those words impact me. While I don’t want to hurt her any further than I already have, I have to laugh at the validity of her argument. I’m tired of spending my life doing what others expect of me. Tired of living to please everyone. Everyone except me. It’s time I take a stand and start doing what’s best for me. God knows it’s been ages since I’ve done that.

Now that I’ve come to my senses, I need to ask myself the all-important question. What do I want?

I mull that over on the short walk home. The more I think about it, the less I can remember the last time I did something just because it was what I wanted to do. I step through the door of my apartment building, bypass the elevator, and head straight for the stairs. Our season kicks off in less than a month, and after tonight’s fiasco, I think it’s time I start laying off the alcohol. Every apartment building bears a certain odor after time. Food odors. Pet odors. You get the picture. This building is fairly new, so the dominant odor is fresh paint. Tonight, there’s a new fragrance in the air. In fact, it’s the scent I smelled earlier in that dingy bathroom. It reminds me of vanilla and almonds and someone I once knew.

Shaking off the unwelcome memory, I reach the third-floor landing and step into the narrow hall leading to my apartment. I see a woman standing in front of the apartment right across the hall from mine. Her back is to me and she’s on the phone. Fumbling with her keys. Her whole body shakes when she laughs at something she’s heard. The sound echoes down the hallway, and something about it makes my head spin.

It’s just the alcohol, I tell myself. The fragrance. The laughter. It’s just a coincidence. There’s no way it can be her. I’m not sure why I’ve stopped moving. What if it is her? What would I say? The last time we saw each other, she called me a selfish asshole. Have I really changed much since that night? It saddens me to admit this, but probably not. The keys stop jingling, and this time when she laughs, there’s no doubt in my mind. It’s definitely Skylar Dennison. The girl I loved once upon a time.

Holy shit. Beads of perspiration gather at the base of my neck and a chill runs through me. I shake my head to try and break the trance I’m in then make my way back down the stairs. The cool slap of fresh air feels good against my warm cheeks, like a long-overdue wake-up call. If that really is Skylar up there, what the hell is she doing here? And why, after all this time, does the mere thought of her presence leave me forgetting how to breathe?