Chapter 7 Allie #2
He laughs and somehow manages to do it without even so much as a suggestion of a smile. His laughter is deep, but cold, like the bottom of the ocean. “I’m the last person in the world who would judge anyone’s sex life.”
Curiosity outweighs any shred of common sense I have, and I ask, “So what about you?” I lean back. “What’s your kink?”
“Ah,” he says casually. “There’s only one way to find that out.” His gaze slowly rakes over my entire body, landing dead on my eyes. “Unfortunately, you’re not my type.”
I internally scoff. He’s not mine either.
I usually go for the finance bro frat boy type.
Guys I know for sure are just looking to get laid for the night.
Sure, we go on a date first as a pretense and pretend that we’re not both just looking to get off.
We make small talk and eat dinner, but I make sure we both know what the endgame is.
We go back to his place, or sometimes mine, and after, we part ways with the understanding that we were using each other to feel good.
That’s all. I’ve had some repeats, but only during desperate times, and only men who I know want nothing more from me.
I like bringing men to their knees, but most of them only pretend to submit to me because they know it will end in getting their dicks wet.
I tell myself it doesn’t really matter because it’s all just a means to an end anyway.
Declan, on the other hand, is as alpha as they come. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of submitting to another human. We would be entirely incompatible as sexual partners.
“The thing is,” he continues, interrupting my thoughts, “you’re wasting your time with Ash.
He’s more vanilla than Dairy Queen soft serve.
” When I furrow my brows, he explains further.
“While I like to cause pain, he eases it. Everything I touch breaks, sweetheart. And Ash? He’s always right there to piece it all back together.
” He produces a snifter I didn’t even realize he was holding and brings it to his mouth, his lip ring clinking against the edge as he tips it back and downs it in one go.
“I’m Declan, by the way,” he says, setting the glass down on the table next to us.
“Ashton’s best friend, in case that wasn’t obvious. ”
I blink. Well, that answers the question about his kink. This man is a sadist if I ever saw one. “I’m Allie,” I say, hauling up my well-crafted mask of indifference. “But you already knew that.”
He grins, his lips curling upward to showcase his perfectly white teeth, but his eyes don’t match, still brimming with intensity.
“Maybe,” he taunts. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Allie.
” He says my name like it tastes bitter on his tongue.
“You’re going to keep your head down, do your job, and leave my friend alone.
Don’t mess with him, don’t fuck with his head, and don’t play whatever little games you’ve come up with because you can’t let it go.
We both know he has a right to be pissed, but he’ll get over it. In the meantime, don’t engage.”
Don’t engage? Don’t fucking engage? I don’t care how intimidating this man is.
No one tells me what to do. Hell, no. What the hell is he even talking about?
Get over what? Ashton is a girlfriend-type of guy if I’ve ever met one.
He probably already has an arranged marriage with a trust fund heiress lined up.
They’ll buy a beach house together in Baybridge and have upscale clam bakes and summer on the vineyard with their two-point-five children and a yellow lab named Duchess. What the fuck does he have to get over?
Then I remember something.
I hold Declan’s gaze, regardless of how the intensity of it forms a pit of dread in my stomach.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him as I rise to my feet, gripping my empty glass in one hand and my purse in the other.
“I’m not Ashton’s type, either. In fact, you both have the same type, don’t you? Redheads? Big, bright green eyes?”
Declan’s fists clench, and he chews his lip ring, his eyes narrowing into thin slits, but he doesn’t say anything.
I lean down and whisper, “Your silence tells me I hit the nail on the head.” That should have been a good enough mic drop, but he thinks I’m a raging bitch who is out to corrupt his precious bestie, so I might as well dig the knife in a little deeper.
“Looks like you didn’t always have your friend’s back,” I say before I turn around and walk toward the makeshift bar to get another drink.
It was a shot in the dark, but given his reaction, I’d say I was right.
Something went down between them and Skylar.
Despite my curiosity, I would never ask her about it.
We’re not quite there yet in our friendship, and something tells me whatever happened, it didn’t end well.
I know she’s still good friends with Ashton, but she’s never mentioned Declan.
I’m almost at the bar when I bump into someone.
“Sorry,” I mumble before looking up, only to see the man himself.
Ashton’s golden eyes float over me, just like Declan’s did a few moments ago, but they’re so much softer that the contrast is deafening.
Declan was right. Ashton is the light to his darkness.
Even their damn eyes got the memo. I look down to see his hand clutching my arm as if to steady me, but when I try to wriggle free, he notices, releasing me as if he just realized he was touching a hot stove.
“Hi,” he says, his voice pure honey. Such a contradiction from Declan’s deep rasp. His gentleness almost makes me forget about how much of a raging asshole he has been this past week, but luckily I remember before I do anything stupid.
“I’m not in the mood, Ashton.”
“In the mood?” His eyebrows knit. “All I said was ‘hi.’”
“Why don’t you go say ‘hi’ to your guard dog over there? He’s pretty chatty. Had a lot to say to me just now.”
Ashton looks past me and notices Declan, who is still sitting in the same spot, looking like he’s plotting my murder with meticulous detail.
He sighs. “What did he say to you?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” I reply, sidestepping him so I can get closer to the bar.
“Alexandra.” My name on his lips has that same warning tone he sometimes gets when I overstep at work.
“I said I’m not in the mood, Ashton. We’re not at the office. I don’t have to listen to you here. Just do us both a favor and save your orders for Monday.”
“Okay,” he says to my utter shock. No fighting.
No comebacks. He runs a hand through his hair and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but closes it at the last second and walks away in Declan’s direction.
I don’t stick around to witness their conversation.
I order another tequila soda, throw it back, and say my goodbyes to Luke and Em.
I don’t even stay for the countdown to midnight. It’s fake anyway.
I already rang in the real new year weeks ago, promising myself things would be different. Telling myself I would try to make positive changes. Yet, all I’ve done is continue to self-sabotage and fight with ghosts from my past.