“Oh, where to even start.” I look off toward the drapes, trying to avoid eye contact. It’s dark in our enclave. Only candlelight illuminates the space. They flicker like little fireflies on a warm summer night.
“The beginning is always a good place.” Grant’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up at him. We lock into a stare, and I swallow before speaking.
“It’s been a rough day.”
“We established that.”
I smile. “You said you’ve had a rough day, too?”
“Yep. It’s been a series of rough days. Hell, it’s been rough months. Fuck it, years.”
“I was basically sexually harassed at the workplace if it makes you feel any better,” I blurt out, and he sets his glass down.
“What do you mean, basically?”
“I got a job through a temp agency, and the guy was horrid. I left, but the problem is that it’s the Karen Michelle agency, and Karen Michelle is the best.” I roll my eyes. “But enough about me. What about you?”
“You did the right thing in leaving. Karen will have to deal with it unless she wants one of her clients to have a lawsuit on their hands. Sexual harassment is no joke, Bridget, and you shouldn’t make light of it.”
“I’ll deal with it. Just not tonight.” I beg him with my eyes to drop the subject. He catches the drift by lifting his tumbler to his mouth and taking a gulp of the amber liquid. “So, what’s your deal?”
He groans. If he thought he was getting out of sharing, he’s sadly mistaken. “I’m having some interoffice conflict.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Too complicated to explain.”
“Well, I’ve probably had one too many to understand anyway.”
As I say the words, the lightheadedness rushes in. The drinks have been flowing like water as we’ve talked and enjoyed each other’s company.
“As have I.”
“So, let’s not discuss it anymore. Let’s have another drink.” I laugh. One more drink and his hand has found a resting place on the back of my chair. “Tell me something about you,” I demand playfully.
“Hmm . . . let me think.” He taps his chin. “I don’t have a lot of time to watch television, but when I do, I like to watch reruns of Cheers.”
My brow rises. “Cheers? Like the old bar show?”
“The old bar show? It’s a classic, Bridget.”
“Classic is the keyword here,” I deadpan, but I can’t stop my gaze from running over his every feature. He’s older than me. A few small creases etch away at his forehead, but they don’t take away from his devastatingly handsome face.
He chuckles, and tiny lines form on the outside of his perfectly delectable lips. “Well, I’m older than you, it would appear.”
“You don’t have to age yourself by admitting you like Cheers.” I bite my lip to stifle my chuckle.
“Hey”—Grant laughs—“you bruise my ego.”
“Don’t worry, pops. You’ve still got it going on.” I wink.
“You don’t say.”
Grant’s hand has moved from the back of my chair to my leg. I’m not sure when that happened, but the motion of his hand rubbing lightly against my exposed flesh has tingles shooting through my body.
Our eyes meet and heat pools behind his pupils. The lust is so thick in the air I can barely breathe. The need to touch him is intense. He leans into me, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of my ear.
“Want to get out of here?” My body shivers from the feeling of his words tickling my skin.
“Sure,” I rasp. It’s as though I’m in a heady trance, and leaving with him is my only option. Everything about this is wrong. On a normal night, this wouldn’t be happening. On a normal night, I wouldn’t leave with a stranger. But this isn’t a normal night. Lord knows I have no idea where it will lead, nor do I care.
He takes my hand turning abruptly, leading us out of the room. “This way,” Grant orders, his voice low and husky, dripping with a raw sexual undertone that makes it impossible not to agree.
“Okay.”
The rough pads of his fingertips trace a pattern against me, making me feel hot. Needy. Together we set out, his gait faster. His long strides pull me with him, out of the bar and down a back hall. I follow him down a long corridor, and then out a door that leads outside. Brisk air kisses my skin, and I realize we’re in the back alley.
“Where are we—” I’m pushed against the wall, forcefully. The hard edge of the brick bites my flesh.
“I want you,” he grates roughly. “Say yes.”
“What?” The word escapes on a breathy whisper as it takes everything in me to remain controlled. I’d only have to lean in a few inches and our lips would touch. I’d taste him. The thought sends a jolt to my core.
“Bridget,” he groans. “Say it. Tell me you want this. I’m losing patience not being able to kiss you, but I don’t want to be like the other asshole you’ve dealt with today. Say yes. I won’t take what’s not given freely.”
“Yes.” The word comes out harsh, desperate.
“Fuck,” he growls as his mouth descends. His tongue slides in, taking possession of all that I am.
I want every part of this man.
His hand slides up my side, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I’m electrified by his touch, emboldened by his arousal. I shouldn’t be allowing a stranger to have me pinned against the wall. I shouldn’t be going down this path. A war wages in my mind, but when determined fingers pull at my panties and cup my core, the battle is lost. He parts me. Slides his finger. Then another.
I need this.
My only choice is him.
My kisses are filled with desperation. All thoughts are of him claiming me, of his body pressed against mine, of how it would feel to have him inside me. A pleasure pain builds as he finds the sensitive spot and torments me. The friction of his ministrations has me clawing at him.
I need more.
So much more.
“Please,” I plead against his mouth. Pulling my lips away, we lock eyes. “Please.” I want him to take me. To fuck me against the wall in the back alley. I need him. The force of his movements increases.
I can feel it.
I can taste it.
The world around me fades away. All noise ceases as I chase my high. I’m almost there.
Undone.
“Fuck,” he growls, yanking his hand away, leaving me vacant and needy. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck.” He pulls frantically at the root of his hair. I watch confused as Grant slams his fist into the wall. My eyes round in horror as I now know that’s not lust in his voice. It’s regret.
“I can’t do this,” he mutters as he walks away, leaving me baffled and alone.
What did I do wrong?
Only everything.
What the fuck did I just do?
How did that happen?
How did I let myself go so far?
I’ve officially lost my ever-loving mind, that’s how.
My bones scream in pain. Glancing down, I notice that there’s blood on my knuckles. Shit, things got out of hand real fast.
It started harmlessly. She ran into me and took my breath away. She was upset, and she needed me. It’s been a long fucking time since a woman has needed me and it felt good. It didn’t help that she’s beautiful. At that moment, I’d never seen anyone so gorgeous, so sexy, yet so innocent at the same time. I think I needed her as much as she needed me.