3. Lex
Chapter three
I don’t know what I’ve stepped in, but please let it be someone’s frozen cocktail.
The sticky, crunchy texture is unnerving. I can’t help but grimace as I pick up my boot-covered feet one by one, searching for a spot on the dancefloor that’s not tainted with bad decisions.
My best friend and roommate, Claire, convinced me to come out tonight, now that I’m officially no longer a student but a full-time bar manager.
I’m one step closer to the dream I’ve been working towards for the last four years. Next step, moving back home, but that’s up to my brother to do his part.
I bop along to the music, one hand clutched in Claire’s, so we’re not separated by the heavy crowd.
“Seen anyone you like yet?” she shouts in my ear.
I shake my head. Claire gave me strict instructions when we came out tonight that I was to reward my four years of studying, AKA celibacy, according to Claire, by taking home a ‘hottie’.
It wasn’t total celibacy, but I had work to do.
I can count on one hand the number of sexual experiences I’ve had since I started my degree. And in life.
“Hey, babe? You know when parents teach their kids to swim, and they just throw them in the deep end and tell them to figure it out? ”
“I-I don’t think they can do that now.” I shake my head, confused by her new train of thought.
“Well, this parent does,” she whispers. “Sink or swim, honeybunch.” Now shouting with glee, she shoves me in the back, right into another unsuspecting body.
I clutch onto what feels like a very hard abdomen to stop my fall, mortification coating my face.
“I’m so sorry.”
Large, warm hands grip my shoulders to steady me, followed by a deep and smooth rumble from his chest.
“No harm done.”
The words are curious and light, inviting my eyes up to take in the rest of him.
Dark facial hair perfectly frames his lips and jaw.
A lock of chestnut hair hangs over his forehead, in a loose spiral that he pushes back off his face to meet the rest of the waves sitting there.
Once I meet his eyes, a beautiful sage green holds me hostage.
My lungs feel ravaged as I attempt to bring in enough air to calm my racing heart.
“Are you okay?” He brings his face down so he can meet my eye level, and all I can do is nod.
His eyes shift from my face, allowing my heart a moment’s respite, as he guides his focus over the rest of me.
The bright red curls that hang over one of my shoulders, my hands that still rest firmly on his stomach.
I snatch them back on a gasp, and he chuckles, but he doesn’t remove his hands from my shoulders.
Instead, he smiles and steps closer to me.
It’s such a soft smile, hooked up just a hint more on one side. I tip my head back to keep my eyes locked on him now that he’s standing at his full height again.
I can feel my breath quicken, and a shiver rolls down one arm as he removes a hand to pick up my hair and curl it around his finger. He gently tugs his finger out, letting the scarlet tendril unravel around it.
“Pretty,” he says in almost a daze. “What’s your name?”
I glance around, looking for Claire. She’s standing just behind the stranger, looking around him with a big, toothy smile on her face and throwing two thumbs up at me.
“Lex,” I answer and roll my lips together, unsure what to do next. “What’s yours?”
The smile hasn’t left his face the whole time he’s been standing here assessing me.
“Caleb.”
I rock back and forth on my heels, eyes shifting around the bar. I’m out of my element here. How the hell does Claire do this all the time?
Caleb forces my gaze back to his with a finger under my chin. My mouth parts slightly, my eyelids fluttering in rapid succession as the onslaught of a clean, masculine scent invades my senses.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks. “Please?”
I nod and feel his hand coast down my back and land just above my butt as he guides me over to the bar. My heart pounds as he casually leans one thick, corded forearm on the bar top, and I notice how dressed up he is for the space.
He’s in a white button-up shirt, a black tie is tucked into a black vest, with fitted black suit pants.
It’s nine on a Thursday night. Perhaps he came straight from the office with some co-workers.
His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a small tattoo on his wrist. Four small circles run down the length, with only the top one coloured in.
“What does your tattoo mean?” I ask.
He looks down at the ink with a soft smile. “My siblings and I all have one. Wherever we are in birth order, that circle is solid.” He chuckles. “Although my baby sister, my only sister, likes to say it runs from bottom to top, and it goes from most important to least.
“I can understand that. I’m also the only girl in my family,” I say. “So, you’re the oldest. ”
He looks up, those green eyes meeting mine, and I’m struck by how much they convey. There’s strength and determination, but also something gentle in them.
“I am. And you?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “I’m the youngest. But it’s only my brother and me.” And I miss him terribly. “We’re close, even though we’ve lived apart for almost ten years.”
“Thought you were leaving.” A rough and ragged voice sounds from behind the bar.
When I look up, I startle and lean straight into Caleb’s side. A huge guy stands behind the bar, tattoos coat his skin from the ends of his shirt sleeves to his fingers. More tattoos creep up his neck, and there’s a silver ring through his bottom lip, one nostril, and more up one ear.
I feel Caleb’s hand slide further around my back and latch onto my hip. He squeezes before using the move to bring me closer to his warm body.
“Not yet,” he says, and I look up to find him staring intently at me.
A scoff sounds from the gruff bartender. “What about your beauty sleep?”
At that, Caleb whips his head around with a scowl.
The bartender only smirks back, but his tone seems to ease when he speaks again. “What will it be then?”
“What would you like to drink, Siren?” Caleb speaks in my ear. The deep tenor makes my legs turn in, rubbing together at the apex of my thighs.
Jesus, the temperature is stifling in here. And, who’s he calling Siren? Surely not me, the nervous sputtering mess of a girl. Aren’t sirens beautiful creatures that lured sailors to their deaths with their hypnotising sexual allure or something? That is not me.
This guy is all sex appeal and confidence, and I’m sure he’s a fair bit older than me. I appreciate the comparison, though. I love the ocean. I’ve been dying my hair bright red, like my favourite mermaid, since I was sixteen.
“Did you still want a drink?” He leans back to look into my eyes.
Oh shit, I still haven’t answered him. “Um.”
He turns me more into his body, his warm arm curling around me, leaving almost no space between us.
When I feel his nose drag up my neck, I’m mortified by the moan that is ripped out of my throat without permission.
I feel him still against me, halting the journey of us both discovering a sensitive spot behind my ear.
“ Holy. Fuck. ” He groans and leans his forehead on the top of my shoulder before gifting me with a soft and lingering kiss there.
“I was going to suggest getting out of here if you’d rather skip the drink, but after hearing that sound”—he pauses, bringing his eyes back to mine—“I think I’m going to have to insist.”