Copyright © 2018 Lauren Stewart
unedited draft, so please forgive any errors
Chapter 1
- Sara -
Oh crap. That was bad. Not like bad-sex bad. In fact, what we just did was nothing like bad sex. Which made it bad in the too-good-sex way. And everyone knows that too-good sex with a guy you barely know is bad. Because if the sex is that good the first time, you want to see what it would be like the second time…and the twentieth. And then you get attached, even if he turns out to be a horrible dickhead in every other way.
All because he gave you multiple orgasms.
I know this not from personal experience, but because at some unfortunate in our biological development, women have decided that if a man cares enough to figure out what you need to get off, he cares about the person attached to the vagina.
Therefore, this man was dangerous in an emotional way, which made it way worse because physical injuries heal a lot quicker than emotional ones do.
So as soon as I’d caught my breath, I slid out of his bed and looked for my clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up.
“I’m going home. It’s past my bedtime.”
Damn, he was gorgeous. His spiky light brown hair looked even better than it had before the last few hours of full-body wrestling we’d just done. A small dimple dented each of his cheeks, even though he wasn’t smiling anymore. A body Greek sculptors could only fantasize about. I could feel a purr of longing starting in my stomach. Okay, fine, it may have started a little lower than my stomach.
I wanted to go over and kiss him one more time, but that would risk him pulling me back in for another round. I slipped on my undies and then my pants.
“Huh. Okay. So what’d you use me for?”
“I—” I didn’t look up. And I didn’t answer his question.
Then he was in front of me, his hands on my waist. “Is this the first time you’ve done it?”
I laughed. “Wow. Was I that bad?”
“The sex? No, the sex was fantastic. Phenomenal. But I meant, is this the first time you’ve buttoned up your pants?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Look at me.” He repeated it when I hesitated, then smiled when I raised my chin and made eye contact. “Well, there has to be a reason you would be so focused on your jeans that you couldn’t even bother to look at me. So buttoning your pants… It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I’ll show you.” He brushed my hands out of the way and buttoned my jeans, holding my eyes and feeling his way through the process. “See? Don’t worry. You’ll get it eventually. And then you won’t even have to look.” He pulled me towards him. “Now kiss me.”
I shook my head and ran my lip through my teeth. “I probably have terrible morning breath.”
“This is a continuation of last night. You have to sleep to have morning breath. So kiss me already.”
I did, lightly until his lips demanded more. My arms stayed to my sides, stuck there immobile, the only thing with any control whatsoever it seemed, because the rest of my body responded to his every touch. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and his arms wrapped tightly around me, lifting me up onto my tip toes.
He pulled away slightly and lowered me to the ground. “You’re right. You have terrible morning breath.” His smile was wicked. “That was such a horrible experience, I’d like to do it again. Right now.”
“I need to go.”
He released me, sighing. “If I asked you for your number so we could see each other again, would you give me a fake one?”
I shook my head. “I’d just say no.”
“Fuck, that’s harsh,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “A guy could take that personally, you know.”
“You shouldn’t. You were great, and you seem like a nice guy. But I never give my number out.”
“So either you’re already involved or you have serious issues. Which is it?”
“I’m not already involved with anyone.”
He grimaced and then went to his dresser. “If you ever want to be, give me a call.” He took a business card out of his wallet, wrote something down on it, and handed it to me. “It’s not my card, but I wrote down my number. Call me.”
“Me and my issues?”
“We all have issues, Sara. And we all have ways to cope.”
“How do you cope?”
“Self-destructively. I’m really good at it. Last night, for example, I went to a bar looking for an amazing woman who would want nothing to do with me in the morning. All so that I can spend the next few days pounding my head against the wall wondering what happened and where I went wrong. Totally successful endeavor, by the way. In fact, it’s probably better that you don’t give me your number because I’m going to be busy telling myself what a fuck-up I am until…at least, Thursday or Friday.”
I curled my fingers around his card instead of giving it back like I’d planned. “I don’t do the relationship thing.”
“Obviously.” He held up his hands and motioned to himself. “‘Cause, if you did, how could you possibly pass this mess up?”
“Maybe we could just…” I shrugged. Damn it. He was ten times as gorgeous as anyone I’d ever been with, had an incredible body he knew exactly how to use, and a sense of humor I could definitely get used to. Which made him complicated. And another hook-up would be dangerous, regardless of how much I’d like to.
“Okay, I think I finally got your hint,” he said nodding. “Well, Sara. It was nice to meet you, it was great to fuck you, and I wish you, your issues, and your coping mechanisms long and happy lives.”
“Same to you. I’m gonna…I mean, I could…”
“If you want to leave, then leave. If you want to stay, then stay. Shit, if you need a coin to toss, I’ll give you one. But I’m feeling slightly insecure right now, so would appreciate it if you could make a decision without any more of the mixed signals.”
He was right—my actions defined mixed signals, because that was all my mind could manage right now. What needed to happen was a decision. The same one I always made, in the past year, at least.
“Bye.” I ran. I didn’t close the doors behind me, as if my subconscious was hinting that I didn’t want those doors to close. But it could go to hell. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t him. It wasn’t any of them. The only person I could count on was myself. I was the only one who could keep me safe. I was the only one I could trust.
When I got to the sidewalk, I took out the card he’d given me and smoothed it on my pant leg. Some guy who was a music executive of some kind. But on the other side, there was a name and a number—Declan. Declan. It was a nice name. Nice guy. A nice guy with a nice name that I would never be seeing again.
Besides, he was wrong—one-nighters weren’t coping mechanisms. They were distractions, something to relieve the pressure and blow off steam. Two people getting what they want without the inevitable hurt that depending or trusting someone leads to.
Did some people think I had trust issues? Hell yes. But I saw myself as a realist. No one should trust anyone. That was a fact.
No one saw pain coming, or it wouldn’t hurt so much when it happened. You wouldn’t feel humiliated and spend weeks in shock, living in a blurred reality. That wouldn’t happen if you were prepared, stayed vigilant, didn’t look for things that weren’t real. The only thing you can trust is that people are liars and do whatever the hell they want to do without concern for anyone else.
I hadn’t been prepared once, and it had almost killed me. A mistake I’ll never repeat. Ever.
Seriously, folks, this one both breaks my heart and cracks me up. Can’t wait to share Sara and Declan’s story with you.
or go to my to sign-up to be notified when pre-order links are available and when Immaterial Defense is released.
Plus, stay tuned for my twists on The Little Mermaid, Rapunzel, Rumplestiltskin, Cinderella, Peter Pan, and the Princess and the Pea.