Chapter 21 #2
“Not really, but I think adrenaline’s still in charge. Being sucker punched by Ben Gatlin wasn’t on my bingo card, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” Calm in the middle of crisis is on-brand for me. It’s later that it will all come crashing in.
His nostrils flare. “He’s gonna fucking pay for this—”
He’s cut off when the door opens and Susan appears. “Oh hun, you’re a sight. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“No. It’s almost stopped bleeding,” I tell her.
She steps in and sets a small metal box on the counter next to me. “Here’s the first aid kit. Take anything you need. The bouncer’s clearing the place, so I need to get back out there and help, but just yell if you need anything else.”
“Where’s Hannah?” I ask. “You need to keep her and Ben separated.”
She pats my leg. “She’s in my office. Don’t you worry.”
“What about Ben? Where’s he?” Ever asks.
She pulls the door open and says, “He’s out front with our bartender, Zach. I’m still deciding what to do with him. You don’t pull shit like that in my bar and get away with it,” before she steps out.
Ever looks like he’s contemplating going back out to look for Ben.
“Hey,” I say to direct his eyes back to me. “He’s not worth it.”
“No, but you are. Fuck, Soph, when he hit you—”
I cut him off. “It was an accident. Yeah, he’s fucked up, and it never should’ve gotten to that point. But he didn’t mean to hit me.”
He’s staring at me like he knows what I’m saying is true, but he can’t agree because he saw the punch and the resulting blood.
“I’ve never felt uncontrollable anger like that.
” He holds his free hand up in front of my good eye, and it’s visibly shaking.
“Everything in me wants to go back out there and beat him within an inch of his goddamn life.”
He needs a distraction. So do I.
“Lock the door,” I tell him.
“What?” he asks as I take the fabric pressed against my head from him and swivel on the counter to look in the mirror behind me.
I look like I’ve either narrowly escaped murder or committed one, but the cut has clotted. I lick my lips, trying to decide if this is as reckless an idea as I think it might be. “Lock the door,” I repeat, catching his eyes in the mirror.
The room’s so small, he can reach it without stepping away.
As I take his face in my hands, the thought briefly crosses my mind that I need to tell Lola I deserve two check marks for this.
Then I kiss him.
And he kisses me back.
There’s no tentative, get-to-know-you, feel-this-out, soft buildup. We’re tongues, and teeth, and moans, and sighs.
Jesus, this man is good at everything.
The cautious side of me that’s usually in control has exited the building like it’s on fire. All that’s left is a woman who’s tired of following rules and who really, really wants to see how far we can take this.
His hands are cupping my ass, and mine are skimming down his neck, to his chest, to his abs that go rigid under my touch. When he pulls me against him, I shamelessly grind.
He’s hard behind the zipper of his jeans, and the friction through the flimsy material of my shorts and panties already has me close.
Like he can hear the same stopwatch running, his hands grip the hem of my top and pull it up. When the A/C blasting from an overhead vent hits my bare skin, goose bumps scatter across my chest, and my already peaked nipples tighten and ache to be touched.
Breaking the kiss, hooded eyes lock with mine before dropping to my chest. And then his mouth is on me. Hot tongue pressed to chilled skin elicits a shiver.
“You’re fucking perfect.” His voice is husky with lust.
Bracing my palms on the counter behind me, I lean back, spine arching, eyes on the ceiling, crown of my head resting against the mirror on the wall.
He moves with me, hovering like I’m prey he’s cornered and is going to devour.
I’ve never felt sexy, but the way he’s looking at me?
I get it now.
Teeth clamp down hard enough to make me gasp.
“I’ve thought about this so many times.” I’m breathless.
Lips and tongue paint a trail that descends down my belly.
“Me too,” he echoes.
He’s slowing everything down, and my chest heaves as I watch.
Fingers curl inside the waistband of my shorts, sliding them down to reveal the scrap of crimson lace I’m wearing underneath.
Eyes locked with mine, pupils blown wide, he rasps, “God, I wanna watch you come.”
Tugging down the lace as far as he can, his tongue drags over me.
Toes curl, eyelids flutter closed, and I begin to question if I’ve truly had sex before because nothing has ever felt this good.
“Ever.” I’m praising, begging, and thanking him all with a single word.
Bang, bang, bang.
The pounding on the door is accompanied by shouting. “Open the door!” It’s a deep voice that leaves no room for argument. “Police need everyone out now!”
He growls in frustration, presses his lips to the spot his tongue was, and releases the fabric from his grasp. The waistband of my shorts snaps back into place as we snap back to reality.
Gripping my hips, he presses a quick kiss to my stomach before it disappears under my T-shirt as I slide it back down.
Another knock, louder this time. “Open the door! I’m not gonna ask again!”
I run my hands through his hair to get it out of his eyes and nod at him. “Open the door,” I whisper.
He only pauses for a second before he reaches behind him and releases the lock.
Ever’s still standing between my legs, his hands resting on my outer thighs, when the door opens and a burly guy I recognize as the bouncer steps in. His eyes go wide when he looks from Ever to me. “Goddamn, girl, are you okay?” he asks, referring to the blood.
Seconds away from being tongue fucked, I guiltily interpret the question a different way. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I lie, hoping he can’t tell I’m on the cusp of orgasm.
“Can you give us a few minutes to clean up a little and then we’ll be out?” Ever asks.
The bouncer looks at me again for confirmation.
I nod again while my cheeks heat. “Locking the door was my idea.” I don’t think he’s going to leave without reassurance that I’m safe. “Prop the door open if it makes you feel better.”
He does and leaves.
I hop down, and we wordlessly clean up, stealing glances at each other in the mirror. He’s wearing almost as much of my blood as I am. It’s just harder to see because it’s camouflaged in his tattoos.
When we’re done, he inspects my cut closely. “I don’t know, Soph. I think maybe I should take you to the ER to get stitches.”
I lean in close to the mirror. Maybe I should get stitches, but I’ve had worse cuts and didn’t bother. I grew up in a house where you were told to toughen up. It’s what I do. “I’ll be fine. Can you help me with a butterfly bandage?”
He tilts his head. “Are you sure? This is gonna leave a scar.” He’s torn.
I nod.
The antiseptic stings like hell, but I’m shocked again how gentle his big hands are.
When we exit the restroom, Susan gives us both clean staff T-shirts and tells us Hannah and a police officer are in her office waiting for us.
Ever waits outside the office while I talk briefly to the officer. He tells me I have every right to press assault charges. I decline. Ben has more problems than I’m sure I’ll ever know, and jail isn’t going to solve any of them.
The police give Ben permission to leave, and Susan calls him a cab to take him to a motel a few miles away for the night. When I have assurances he’ll sleep somewhere safe but far from Hannah, I exit the office, thanking the officer and profusely apologizing to Susan.
Ever, Hannah, and I walk to the van in silence.
When Ever opens the van door, Jesse’s soft snores can be heard.
We all look at each other with weary, exhausted expressions. And laugh. Quietly at first, but then long and hard. It’s ridiculous and wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so right. We all needed stress relief and the tears in our eyes are just that.
By the time Ever gets Jesse in one hotel room, I get Hannah in the second, and we meet in the third, it’s almost three o’clock.
Way past my bedtime.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed pulling off his shoes. The exhaustion in his eyes looks like it’s been piling on for years.
“What do you need?” he asks through a wide yawn.
I kick off my Vans.
He reaches behind his head and pulls his T-shirt off.
I slip my shorts down and step out of them.
He does the same.
We’re both so tired we can barely keep our eyes open, but I step forward and drop down on his lap, straddling him. His hands run up my thighs until he’s palming my ass that’s mostly bare thanks to my cheeky panties.
I make a mental note to thank Lola for the gift that, apparently, keeps on giving and drop my forehead to his.
Watching his eyelids close, I clasp my hands at the nape of his neck and close mine too.
And then I finally answer the question he’s asked a dozen times tonight.
“In a perfect world? To sit on your face and finish what we started earlier.” I wish it sounded sexy, but it sounds every bit as tired as I am.
He’s running on fumes, but he huffs out a quiet, delirious laugh. “I would fucking love that.”
I yawn, unable to help myself. “But considering the day we’ve had, I need sleep. And you need sleep. Can we agree that when we wake up, we’re gonna get naked, and not overthink it, and make each other feel really fucking good?”
His hands skim up my back under my shirt, fingers splayed, before returning to my ass. “Soph, you have no idea how many times we’ve already fucked in my mind. I already never wanna leave this room.”