First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (161 page)

“Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you?” he asks.

I can imagine. And thanks to the sexy lilt to his voice, I am. “Nope, but you can show me when we get home.”

He sighs, lightly brushing his fingers beneath the hem of my dress. “I can’t. You’re tipsy at best, and that’s not how our first time is going to be.”

“But—”

“—No. Don’t argue with me, and don’t try thinking any bullshit like I don’t want you.” He takes my hand, putting it on his dick. I can feel how hard he is through his pants. There’s no doubt he wants me. “You and I, we will never be just a drunk hook-up. We’re going to do it right.”

I don’t know whether to be awed or irritated when he says things like that. I nuzzle closer to him and accept the lure of sleep instead. As my buzz fades, my eyes are growing heavier and heavier, and I barely stir as he carries me inside and puts me to bed alone.

I’m not sure if I only dream it, but as he tucks me in, I think I hear him whisper softly in my ear before kissing my forehead. “I know he took your past, Angel, and I know it hurts. I don’t want to take anything from you; I only want to share your future.”

Twenty Six

Angel

By the time I tumble out from beneath the sheets the next day, it’s early afternoon, and I’ve got a raging headache as a reminder of how much I drank the night before. Arion and I share a light lunch of sandwiches chased by aspirin, and he heads down to the bar to get ready for the evening crowd.

Two things are indisputably clear after last night. Champagne is the devil, and if I want to move forward with Arion, I’m going to have to make it obvious that I truly want it. Unfortunately, I’m running out of time. We leave for the farm in the morning.

Which is a different problem in and of itself. On one hand, I’ll miss being able to spend so much time with Arion. But on the other, it will give me some much-needed space. I’m not ready to live with a guy again, not yet. When I moved in with Nick, everything went to hell, and even though Arion is different, I can’t help worrying. I’d like to date for a while, and just see how things go before the added stress of living together.

All week I’ve made out all right while he’s been downstairs running the bar. I’m pretty sure if I was down there, I’d just be in the way. But tonight his absence is getting to me. Every minute that passes slams into me, mocking me for waiting so long to realize what I want.

Music wafts through the floor, calling to me. I’m pretty sure there must be a live band, and from the bit I can hear, they sound like they’re actually good.

It isn’t like Arion said I
couldn’t
come downstairs. Then again, it isn’t like I would have listened to him even if he had. Besides, Arion bought me so many damn clothes that it would be a shame to waste them. I pluck a bright red one-shouldered dress from my suitcase. It’s slinky and flowing and as soon as I slip it on, I immediately feel sexy.

On one hand, I’m still pissed he bought me so much, and on the other hand, I love how it sets off my dark hair and darker eyes. I’m not much of a make-up person, but earlier this week Chelsea and I went shopping for her, and I did pick up a little bit of mascara and lip gloss, figuring I’d need it to go with the black dress for the awards function. I dab on a bit now, then scrutinize my reflection. I’m firmly of the opinion that if you’re going to play, win. I don’t do anything half-assed. So, if I’m going to distract him, I might as well do it right.

I want Arion to see me.
Me.
Not the broken, damaged mess. But me.

I almost feel like I’m making a promise to him… and to myself.
I’m going to be okay.

The bar is hopping when I slip in the side door, and for a moment, I just stop and stare. I’ve only been in here when I showed up Sunday, and apparently Saturday is very different. The night I arrived, it looked about half of its actual size; it was mostly dark, and while it was busy then, it’s packed now.

Where before there was just a bar on one wall, now there is a second bar on the opposite side that must have been hidden last time by the black accordion-fold panels that line each end of it. Chelsea’s working behind the bar closest to me, while two other bartenders are stationed behind the one on the far wall.

Most of the tables that rest between the two bars are full, as is every-other section of the fluorescent lit room. Square glass lanterns exude purple light from the top of each table and from the bar counters. The effect as the glow splashes over the perfect faces of college coeds is beyond cool.
 

Drawn by the hypnotic strains of rock music, I drift to the back corner, where the band I heard from upstairs is captivating a large crowd. The drums pulse like a heartbeat, thumping and circulating a sense of pure undiluted life. A guitarist at the front leans into another guy as they both croon into their microphones. Their lips curl around the mics seductively as their eyes all but make love with the crowd. I’m as enthralled as the rest of the swaying, singing fans. Whoever these guys are, they’re good.

When I can finally tear my eyes away from the stage, I scan the room, looking for Arion. He isn’t on any of the loveseats arranged in small, intimate groups to the side of the stage where girls sprawl across the laps of boys who are failing miserably in their obvious attempts to appear nonchalant.

Chelsea flashes me a harried smile as I lean against the bar. “Hey, Heartbreaker! You looking for Axel?”

My heart stutters ‘yes,’ as my brain tries to say ‘no.’ I’m still not sure he won’t be upset I’ve come down here. I swallow my doubts and offer a smile. “Yeah, have you seen him?”
 

“I think he stepped into the kitchen a few minutes ago; want me to get him for you?”

Someone calls out for a refill from the end of the bar, and I shake my head. “Nah, I can see you’re busy. I’ll just wait and listen to the band for a bit.”

“Aren’t they great?” she asks as she fills a metal cup with ice.

I nod enthusiastically and settle on a bar stool to listen and wait. The music is almost more intoxicating than the Captain and Coke Chelsea plunks before me.
 

Before I can protest, Chelsea smiles. “Don’t sweat it; your stuff is on the house. Axel would kill me if I charged you. Plus, the guy down there bought it for you.” She points to the other end of the bar, where a guy about my age is giving me a huge toothy grin.
 

The next time I look up, the guy has moved two barstools closer. He looks nice enough: clean shaved, with his sandy colored hair in a short spiky cut. But he’s not Arion, and I’m not interested.

I lean close so only Chelsea will hear when she stops for a short moment at my end of the bar. “I don’t think Arion is going to like the idea of other guys buying me drinks.”

Chelsea bats her eyelashes. “What Arion doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and he won’t know anything as long as you don’t flirt or go home with the guy. And it puts more tips in my pocket.”

My forehead furrows as I frown, and she rests a hand on the bar as she angles closer to me. “Trust me, it’s fine. Dougie gets super jealous, too, but guys buy me lots of drinks and he never knows. Hell, I don’t even drink them half the time, but it’s still more money I make and more money the bar makes. It’s harmless.”

I glance up as the harmless drink buyer hops onto the barstool beside me. He seemed less harmless when he was at the other end of the bar. Now he just seems pushy, and he reeks of alcohol. I can’t help wondering if the last girl he bought a drink for drenched him in it. Not a bad idea, judging by how he’s leering at me.

I shrink away from him and turn my attention back to the band, hoping he’ll get the hint and go away. The dress that made me feel so sexy before now just makes me feel exposed.

“She needs another drink,” Slimy Guy says behind me.

Giving Chelsea my best glare, I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks anyway.”

“I bet you are.” He cackles at his own joke.

Chelsea shrugs and then goes to wait on a group of guys that just walked up. She looks like she’s going to be busy for a few minutes, so I’m on my own. Hopefully, Arion will be back out here soon. I’m thinking more and more that this was a bad idea.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you.” The guy has on a plaid shirt and khakis and looks like an average college guy, not a stalker or a serial killer or anything. I peg his nasal tone as from somewhere more north of here, but I was never good with accents so I’m not sure.

He sounds sincere enough, so I relax a little bit. “No problem.”

“Can I at least offer you a bottle of water?”

Water sounds good, and I might ask Chelsea to get me some when she’s got a free minute again, but I don’t want anything from this guy. There are a couple more bottles like the full one in Slimy Guy’s hand stacked behind the bar, and I’m tempted to step back there and get one myself.
 

“God, are you always this uptight? It’s just bottled water. I’m trying to make amends for coming off like a jerk.” His face is turning red, and I hope he isn’t about to have an aneurysm. Though maybe I should hope he does, then he’d be out of my hair.

“Fine,” I snap, snatching the water and taking an irritated swallow, draining half the damn bottle without meaning to. “Happy now?” I slide off the barstool without waiting for an answer. I shoot Chelsea a ‘thanks a lot’ look, though in truth I don’t know what I expected her to do. Hopefully, if I hide in the bathroom for a few minutes, Slimy Guy will get bored and go bother someone else.
 

The bathroom is relatively deserted except for a girl reapplying her lipstick and another girl sitting on the floor with her head leaned back against the wall. “Are you all right?” I ask.

Her eyes are wild and unfocused as she tries to smile up at me, and I realize she’s high, though I don’t know what she’s on. I’ve seen that look enough to recognize it, and I don’t want anything to do with it. She’s relatively safe in here, and I just can’t get involved. I try to tamp down my guilt as I shut myself in a stall.
 

By the time I come out a few minutes later, I’ve convinced myself I was overreacting. A guy bought me a drink, then sat next to me and offered me a bottle of water. So what? If I want to move forward, I’ve got to stop seeing snakes in every patch of grass. Not every guy is Nick.
 

I’m feeling embarrassed about how I overreacted, and much more relaxed as I stroll out of the bathroom and start down the hall, back toward the bar. My spirits lift even more as I see the guy is no longer sitting on the stool. Even better, I see Arion behind the bar talking to Chelsea.

Seeing him is a jolt. He looks so confident and in control. He’s a god, and this is his paradise. The top few buttons of his bar shirt are undone, giving him a perfect blend of professional and sexy. It doesn’t hurt that I know how rock-hard the muscles hidden underneath are, either. He exudes an air of power that I can feel from across the room, and that’s the true change in him. The sexy shirt, the intoxicating smile, the hair that I’d love to tangle my fingers through—that isn’t any different than when he left the apartment to come down to work.

It’s the way he seems so in control of himself, and so at ease in his surroundings that really grabs my attention.

Lights from the stage flash through fog at the corner of my eye, painting everything in neon shades. I blink as the colors begin to swirl, and when I open my eyes again, I almost scream. Nick is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with a lazy smile on his face. The hallway is a dead end behind me, leaving me nowhere to run.

My heart plummets to my feet as someone grabs my arm from behind. Slimy Guy tries to guide me against the wall, and his hand slithers beneath my skirt to grab my ass. I yelp in pain and shock as his fingers dig into my flesh.

“I wondered where you went; let’s get out of here.” He sniffs my neck as he leans into me, slurring his words into my ear.

The putrid scent of him turns my stomach as fear constricts my throat. I tilt my head to the side, looking for Nick, but he’s gone. Was he ever really there?

“Leave me alone,” I mumble, but I don’t even sound like I mean it to my own ears. I think I’m going to throw up, or faint, or both. Memories are strangling me, and I’m not getting enough air. The moment I take a gulping breath to try to steady myself, I regret it and gag at Slimy Guy’s smell.

“Get away!” I shove at him. My arms are heavy with terror, and it takes an extraordinary amount of energy to push him away instead of languishing in a puddle of self-pity.

“Don’t be like that, darling.” He’s practically salivating as he looks at me. For a moment, his face distorts, morphing into Nick’s features before settling into his own once more. I blink rapidly, not sure what’s real and what isn’t.

He presses me against the wall; his hand slides up my thigh, and my brain abandons me. I can’t go through this again. Darkness surges behind my eyes, and I’m pretty sure I’m falling. My hands claw outward, trying to steady myself, and the only thing they find is the slimeball’s shoulder.
 

“That’s it, I’ve got you.” His arms cup beneath my legs, and I feel weightless as shudders wrack my shoulders and I fight for consciousness.
 

I want to tell him no, but I’m so dizzy I can hardly think, much less speak.

“Hey, is she okay?” A girl’s voice asks from miles away.

“I think she just had too much to drink, I’m going to take her outside.”

I don’t want to go with him, and I definitely don’t want him to take me outside. All I can do is hope Arion or Chelsea notices something as I slip into oblivion.

Twenty Seven

Arion

I weave my way through the packed bar toward Chelsea. We’ve got a great turn-out tonight, but then the band we booked always draws a big crowd. We only bring in live entertainment on Fridays and Saturdays, and those nights we open up the second bar area and more seating. The rest of the week we function more like a traditional bar, instead of the club-like mentality of the weekends. Keeping only what we need open during the week keeps our costs down, which keeps everyone happy.