"Angus! You little shit!" I hobble across the kitchen, my still-damp hair plastered to the sides of my face and my tights knotted around my ankles. "Go away!" I swipe at my cat and he leaps from the counter.
I look at the now half-empty tin of tuna on the side. How he managed to get the lid off, I'll never know. It was only cracked open a little after I drained the juice. "Seriously? I go to get dressed and you pilfer my dinner? What kind of cat are you?" Angus looks at me, unaffected, and licks his paw. I stare at him in annoyance for a long moment before giving in to the inevitable and tipping the remaining fish into his food bowl. He sticks his tail in the air triumphantly as he meanders across the room to it.
"Stupid animal," I mutter, reaching down and tugging up my tights.
Rrrrrip.
"Oh, you have got to be fuc.king kidding me!" I bend over and examine the rip snaking up my right calf. With a heavy sigh, I pull the tights off and throw them in the trash. The lid clangs down loudly, and Angus looks away from his food to shoot me a disdainful look.
I point at him. "This is all your fault, you know. I caught you stealing my tuna so had to run out here before I could put them on. Don't you know tonight is the night I could end up in Jackson's bed, hmm? And look at these." I stretch my leg out in front of him.
"They're whiter than white."
My cat returns to his food. I drop my leg and head back into my room. Well, one good thing has come from this—if I do end up going home with Jackson tonight, it's one less obstacle in the way. I run my hands up my legs, checking to see if I missed any spots when I shaved earlier. No stray hairs, thank God.
I keep half an eye on my grumpy cat as I grab the hairdryer and dry my hair. I wouldn't put it past him to do anything else... like open a cupboard to find more tuna. The damn animal has two thumbs, I'm fucking sure of it. The shit he can do is not normal.
By the time my hair is falling around my shoulders, dry, the cat in question is sitting at my kitchen table staring at me. I do my best to ignore him as I apply my makeup and get dressed in something more covering than my underwear.
My phone buzzes.
There are a million stores in this city and I still haven't found a rehearsal dinner dress. What's wrong with me?
I grin at my best friend's text message. That's what you get for choosing your wedding dress in Paris without me.
Whatever. We're looking for your dress soon. Behave tonight.
My smile drops. Shopping with Bridezilla? Oh, crap. Although, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and admit Aaron is the one who picked the earlier date. Dayton only went along with it because he left all the major choices up to her... Which means he'll be finding himself wearing pink.
All is fair in love and war, I suppose.
I drop my phone into my purse knowing the last words of her message will be disregarded. Given that Jackson, my ex-manager, is my number one man-crush for, like, ever, behaving is the last thing on my mind tonight. Today is his birthday, and I plan to help him finish his day with a bang. Preferably a hot and sweaty one that finishes up with an orgasm. Really, it's not much to ask for.
"You," I pause at the door and point at Angus, "Stay out of trouble. I don't want to come back and find you humping a lady cat again. Are we clear?" He mews pathetically and turns away from me. I roll my eyes and head downstairs to my waiting cab. I'm already running a bit late thanks to the tuna fiasco—okay, so I was running late before that happened, but it's so much easier to blame my cat.
Downtown Seattle is thriving as we drive in. The window of the cab is cracked open a little and I can hear the happy shouts and laughs of groups of people as we come to a stop. We're stuck in some traffic, and I tap my foot agitatedly. I lean between the seats and try to get a glimpse at how bad it is.
"Do you know how long we'll be stuck here?" I ask the driver.
He shakes his head. "No, darlin', sorry," he rasps in a heavy smoker's voice. "There was a crash just outside the Southfall earlier today. Last I heard the cops were still sniffing around there."
"Great." I blow out a long breath. "Listen, I'm running late. Do you mind if I get out here?"
"Are you sure? I think it could be starting to move."
"No, no. I'll get out now." I dig my hand into my purse and pull out two tens. "Here. Keep the change."
"Sure you'll be alright, darlin'?"
"It's only a block away." I smile and push the door open. "Thanks."
I push it shut behind me and step onto the sidewalk. A wolf whistle echoes behind me and I roll my eyes, reaching for my ringing cell at the same time. What is it tonight?
"Hello?"
"Liv," my agent's voice comes through the speaker. "Where are you?"
"Downtown. I'm having a few drinks with the guys from the wine bar."
"Great. I'm just calling to let you know you have a shoot on Thursday."
"Really?" I scoot round a group of girls hogging the sidewalk. "For who?"
"It's a trial for Victoria's Secret. Since Luisa left last month, they've been holding secret shoots around the country, and I got you one of the last in the North West."
I stop in the middle of the street. My jaw nearly hits the floor. Did she just say what I think she did? "Victoria's Secret?"
"Yes. It's tough competition. Mr. Styles pulled some strings and is having you photographed by one of our photographers instead of theirs."
"Great." I look up and notice I'm standing outside the club I'm meeting everyone in.
"Shall I come in on Monday to get all the details?"
"Yes, do. Have fun tonight. Bye, Liv." Sheila clicks off.
I take a deep breath before I enter the club and my head is assaulted by the incessant pounding of heavy music. It's still early but that doesn't matter—I still have to shimmy my way through groups of people with yells of, "Excuse me! Sorry!" to reach the stairs to take me to the second floor bar.
It's blessedly empty on the short stairwell, and I take a deep breath. Man, I'm getting too old for this clubbing shit.
I move into the second floor. This one is emptier than downstairs, and immediately I find my ex-colleagues at the bar. All of them have a glass of wine in their hands, surprisingly, and it's Amy who notices me first.
"Liv! Liv's here! Jackson, pour her a glass of wine."
I accept her hug and turn to Jackson. His light green eyes seem to smile at me as he hands me the glass and stands.
"Thanks," I take the drink from him and perch on his empty stool. His eyes comb over my body approvingly, and a low tingle starts in my lower stomach.
"You're welcome."
I turn away with a smile. Everyone knows sleeping with your boss is a bad idea... but he's not technically my boss anymore. So he's fair game. Right?
He certainly doesn't look like he wants to not sleep with me, that's for sure.
"Right," Leanne says, looking around at us all. "Can we please get this party started now?"
***
My head is a little fuzzy. My feet are kinda hurting, too. I wish I could whip off these god-awful heels and prance around barefoot for the next ten minutes, but that would be undignified.
Woops.
I lick my spilled wine from the back of my hand and giggle to myself. Dignityschmignity. Clearly I left mine at home. Or maybe it ran away in the restroom. Who knows? Perhaps it never existed.
I giggle again.
"Someone's had their fair share of wine tonight." Jackson slides into the seat across the table from me, his light hair mussed and sticking up. He shoots me a dazzling smile.
"It's your birthday. Celebration, right?"
He mock-pouts. "Celebrating what? Me being a year older?"
I pat his hand across the table. "You're only as young as the woman you feel." I wink.
"How's the new job?"
My stomach drop at his diversion. "It's good. My new manager gives me the hours and flexibility I need."
He raises his hands in the air in defense. "The orders came from the powers that be. I just did what I was told."
I try not to put my lingering annoyance in my gaze. Truth is, I love the wine bar. I worked there for three years, and I never wanted to leave. But they wouldn't adjust my hours so my days are free for modelling, and it's vital I have that option.
Especially now. If the next few shoots go well, especially the one my agent called about earlier, then I won't have to work in a bar at all. I hold onto this thought as I finish the rest of my wine and set the glass on the table.
"Do you want another?" Jackson motions to the empty glass and I shake my head.
"Not right now. Thanks, though." I smile and he returns the gesture. Our eye contact lingers, and just when I think he's going to—
"Do you know where the others went?" he asks.
My stomach drops again. Apparently I'm not finding my way to his bed tonight either.
"Nope," I reply. My tone is noticeably clipped, and Jackson pauses before he stands.
"Okay. I'll go find them. Will you wait here?"
"No, I think I'm going to head home. Say bye to everyone for me, will you?"
He nods and runs a hand through his hair. "Sure." He bends down and presses a kiss to my cheek. "I miss you at work, you know?"
Not enough to fu.ck me.
Still, I smile. "I miss you, too, but we all have to move on at some point, right? We can't do something or stay somewhere just because it makes us comfortable."
"Too true. Take care of yourself, Liv."
"You, too."
I watch as he walks away from me, the thought it could be the last time I see him twisting in my lower stomach. Yes, I have a huge crush on the guy, but he's still my friend. I'll definitely have to stop by the bar when I have a night off to say hi to everyone. I sigh and run my finger around the top of my glass. My eyes close to the pounding music. My foot is tapping beneath the table, and for a moment I just sit and listen to the words as they flow over me.
The table moves slightly and I open my eyes, expecting it to be Jackson again or one of the girls.
It's not.
Oh, boy, it's not.
Sitting in front of me is an incredible specimen of a man. No, never mind that. Sitting in front of me is the hottest fucking guy I've ever seen in my life.
He gives definition to tall, dark, and handsome. From the dark hair swept back and curling over his ears to eyes I can't make out the color of, he's completely fucking gorgeous.
I'm mesmerized by him.
Shapely lips quirk to one side as he appraises me in the same manner, and he sits forward in his seat, running his thumb across his jaw. "Hi."
Is that—"Hi."
He motions to my empty glass. "Can I get you a drink?"
Holy fu.ck, yes it is. It's a British accent.
Goodbye, panties. See you on the other side... of his bed.
I look at it and up to him. Maybe another is on the cards after all. I lick my lips and meet his eyes. "Sauvignon, please."
He winks and grabs my glass. I watch as he walks to the bar, confidence radiating off him. It's like an aura around him. He's shit hot and he knows it, but he's not arrogant about it.
Okay, the way he leans against the bar and shoots a panty-melting smile at the girl working it is kind of arrogant, but it's that sexy arrogant.
I'd probably be a little arrogant if I had an ass that tight, to be honest. His jeans fit him perfectly, not too tight and not too baggy... just enough that I can see the curve of his ass. And watch it. Yep. Oh boy am I watching it.
He turns and I find myself staring at his zipper instead. If only I was telekinetic, that bitch would be undone right about now. I let my eyes linger there for a moment longer before trawling them up his body. I'm staring, unashamed, and I don't give a shit. My brazenness is fueled by wine and hormones. A lot of.
His blue and yellow checkered shirt hugs his waist and stretches over his shoulders.
His sleeves are rolled to just below his elbow, but the material is tight enough I can see his biceps flexing as he sets down our drinks.
He sits, smirking, and leans back in his chair. "Good night?"
"It got better when you showed up," I reply, taking my glass and sipping.
His smirk grows, just a little. "A woman who speaks her mind. It must be my lucky night."
Keep talking and it will be, honey. "Depends how you define lucky."
His eyes flash with something I can't put my finger on, and he leans forward on the table once more. He cups his chin and rubs his thumb over his bottom lip as he studies me. My eyes fall to his mouth. He has the kind of lips I wouldn't mind kissing all day —plump, pink, soft-looking. The kind of lips that could cause some damage...
He stands and walks around the table to me. Taking my hands, he pulls me up to stand. His eyes search mine, and he steps forward, bringing our bodies closer.
"Do you dance?" he asks, his voice low.
I tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Do you?"
His lips curve enticingly, and he wraps an arm around my waist. His hand on the small of my back, he jerks me against him and lowers his mouth to my ear. "You show me your moves, and I'll show you mine. How's that for a deal, babe?"
"Sounds fun." I hook my finger in one of his belt loops and step back, tugging him with me. "Come on, then."
We walk up the stairs to the dance floor, my fingers linked around his so we don't get separated. It's darker and louder than downstairs and there are bodies everywhere.
Every. Where. Writhing. Grinding. Shaking. Undulating.
They move in time to the music, and it takes only seconds for the vibrations of the beat to snake their way over my skin and sink in. I let go of his hand and grab his shirt. One tug and he's against me.
"Show me what you've got, handsome."
That smirk curves his lips again, slowly and sexily. He grabs my hips and pushes me into the mass of hot bodies, following me. His fingers flex against me, and using that as momentum, I sway my hips from side to side.
The movements are flowing and easy, soon taking my whole body with them. Within seconds, he steps closer and curves his hands around to my back and over my ass. He cups it, pulling me closer again.
Our bodies are completely together, mine moving, his still. My hips rub his and my breasts brush his chest, our proximity and the hardness of his body puckering my nipples inside my bra.
Hot damn, he's solid.
I flatten my hands against his chest to feel it properly. There's nothing but hard muscle beneath my fingertips.
Hard, hot muscle.
My breath catches in my throat when he lowers his face close to mine. Heat covers my mouth as his lips hover there, waiting. I slide a hand up to his neck and he takes it as an invitation.
He touches his lips to mine. They're exactly like I thought—soft and warm. They move with mine with ease and finesse, testing my response to him. I flick my tongue out against his bottom lip and his responding groan buzzes across my mouth. He sucks lightly on my bottom lip and sweeps his tongue across it. Then he nudges at the seam of my lips, asking me to open for him, and I do.
The gentleness of just moments ago is gone. His tongue meets mine in a flick of forcefulness and I whimper at the unexpected sensation. Gripping his collar with one hand and clasping the back of his neck with the other, I push my body into his, still dancing.
His growing erection is obvious against my stomach. The same attraction is flooding through me, igniting red hot sparks of lust through my veins.
His kiss is strong and hard and I feel it everywhere, buzzing through my bloodstream, tingling the ends of my nerves, shuddering across my skin. His hands massage my ass firmly, thumbs digging in and his fingers teasing the high hem of my dress.
Oh, sh.it. His fingertips brush the tops of my thighs. I shudder, my pussy clenching hard at the suggested touch.
"You move well," he says into my ear. His voice is low and husky and tingling all through me.
"Not so bad yourself," I murmur, knowing he can't hear me over the music. "You haven't convinced me yet," I say, louder, right into his ear.
He spins me sharply and pulls my back against his front. His erection pushes into my lower back, the bottom of it nudging the top of my ass, and I gasp at the contact.
He flattens one hand against my stomach, effectively trapping me against him. His other hand travels from my hip up to my breast and he cups it boldly. His fingers brush over where my already-taut nipples are, making them ache almost painfully.
"Let's see what I can do about that." He nips my earlobe and drops his mouth to my neck. "Dance for me, beauty," he demands.
My breathing is faster than before, my chest burning with its speed. I am both thankful and fearful of the darkness. Thankful because we're invisible... fearful because that gives him freedom to do whatever he wants without anyone knowing.
That fear sends an erratic thrill through my body.
This man behind me, sexy as sin with a voice to match, could do anything to me here in this club, and no one would know. He could slide his fingers inside me. He could lift me against him and fuck me. He could demand I drop to my knees and suck his c.ock.
The music would swallow my cries. The dancing would meld with our own erotic routine.
The darkness would hide our sins.
Another thrill, stronger and more confident, hits me. I reach behind me and twine my fingers into his dark hair, moving my body against his once more. He moves his hand from my stomach to my other breast and caresses in time with the music.
His lips, hot and intense against me, buzz across my neck slowly. He interrupts them with nips and sucks, soothing with this tongue.
My body reacts to this stranger intensely. I want more. I want his hands beneath my dress and I want nothing between us.
My c.lit aches insanely, begging for his touch.
He moves his kisses to the other side of my neck and I moan quietly. His c.ock is bigger and harder now, digging into my back temptingly. I reach behind us and cover it with my fingers, closing my eyes at the feel of him beneath my palm.
I stroke slowly, running my fingers over him. He strains against his pants and I want even more than just before.
"Undo the button," he orders into my ear. "Undo the button and touch me properly."
I don't hesitate.
I ease my hand behind us and inside his clothing. My thumb finds him first, the tip of his cock wet with pre-cum. I rub it over him slowly before reaching for more.
My awkward position makes it hard to wrap my hand around him fully, so I simply run my fingers up and down his shaft.
He curses into my neck and drops one of his hands to the apex of my thighs. "Let me show you mine."
He sneaks his hand beneath my dress and nudges my legs open. I ease them open enough for him to touch me, and he does, running his fingers over my lace briefs.
"S.hit. You're so wet."
One finger slips beneath my panties and I gasp at the ease he pushes it into me with.
I swallow hard as he adds a second and fucks me slowly with his hand.
"Feel how tight you are? S.hit. If you feel this good around my fingers, I can't imagine what it'll be like when it's my c.ock inside you."
Fu.ck. I clench around his fingers.
Never have I been so exposed, so out in the open for anyone to discover.
"Do you think you can come from my fingers?" His voice cuts through the music and sends tremors through me. "Do you think you'll come hard enough you'll scream?"
Dirty talk has never sounded as good as it does with a British accent.
"Well?" he pushes, holding his fingers inside me and curving the tips of them.
My whole pussy throbs and I grip his c.ock. "Find out," I challenge, holding my moan in my throat.
He laughs. It's a low sound, one that washes over me and does crazy stupid things to my body.
Then he's pulling my hand from his pants and setting it over his. "Feel how easily I'm about to make you come."
With my hand over his, he drives his fingers into me quickly. Using only his wrist to control his movements, he teases my pussy and pushes me closer to the edge.
His movements are short and sharp, hard and heavy, and I drop my head back against his shoulder. I grip his hair tighter and in turn, he fists mine and turns my face to the side. He kisses me as firmly as his fingers f.uck me and in a swath of heat, I cry into his mouth. The orgasm hits and he catches me before my knees buckle.
"That easily." He withdraws his fingers from me and spins me, still holding me against him as I come down from my high.
He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them. His eyes are on mine the whole time, and I stare, still trying to work out what color they are.
Green, maybe?
"Convinced?"
I lean up and seal my mouth over his. The taste of me lingers on his lips, and I purposely lick it off. "Convinced you need to buy me a drink."
He laughs again and buttons his pants. "You got it."
We leave the dance floor with his arm securely around my waist. And I'm reeling—my mind is spinning out of control.
I've known him ten minutes and he's already made me come.
More than that, I sense he's a risk. He's a f.uck you and leave you kind of guy. You don't get to know him, not even his name. All you'll know by the time the sun rises is how well he can f.uck you.
F.uck you and leave you guys are the kind I should stick with. No obligations or expectations of tomorrow. They're my favorite. All they want to know is where my condoms are and that's cool with me.
But this f.uck you and leave you guy is different. He's more confident than I thought, to the point of whispering dirty things into a stranger's ear. He's an enigma, a puzzle to be solved, a mystery to unravel.
There's more to him than meets the eye. Seconds after meeting and he took charge.
Demanding I put my hand inside his pants and touch him. Recklessly sliding his own beneath my dress and toying with me until I come over his fingers.
For certain, he's dangerous. And this is good and bad for me.
Danger is my best friend and my enemy.
This man, this dirty British boy, whoever he may be, is a temptation. One I plan to fully indulge in.
Once I've pushed it a little further.