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But she did. We were different, we had to be. But even to witness it knocked the breath from my lungs. Over and over and over. Time slowed, the crowd faded, the noise was a buzz in the background of my mind. It was only her. And God, but she was the most wildly beautiful woman I’d ever known.
She spotted me, and the wide-eyed joy that infused her face was another swift kick to some vital organ or another, perhaps each of them in turn as the impact raced through my body in a series of blows. She let go, raising both arms to wave at me, pitching forward and then sliding to the side. I didn’t even remember moving, but suddenly I was beyond the wall of people that had separated me from the platform where the bull was attached and standing next to it as Rory was flung off. I caught her, and she let out a sound that was part laughter and part “oof,” clutching me and sliding down my body. She leaned her head back, her grin vibrant, canary blue eyes dancing with humor. Her gaze wandered over my face for a few moments, smile fading, and then she said, “I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you. “That’s my line,” I murmured.
She used her thumb to run over my cheekbone. “I don’t think so, Ivy League.” She sighed as she slid lower and planted her feet on the floor. I became aware of the fact that the person up next on the bull was trying to get around us and took Rory’s hand and led her to the edge of the platform. She almost tripped, giggling as I steadied her.
“You shouldn’t ride drunk,” I said with a smirk in her direction.
“I’m not drunk. Just tipsy. And I was kicking ass until you came along.”
Yeah, so was I, Cakes. So was I. Only really, was that true? I suddenly didn’t know anymore. That spinning took up again, my brain twisting one way and then the other. “Where’s Faith?” I asked.
“She’s at the bar with her boyfriend, Jarrett. Come meet him.”
She tugged my hand and I wove with her through the crowd to the bar where Faith and her boyfriend had snagged some stools. I greeted the guy named Jarrett, an artist Faith had met when she featured his work in her gallery. I ordered a round of drinks and we chatted for a while before Faith gathered her purse and stood. “I have a showing tomorrow so I can’t be too hung over,” she said on a giggle.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Jarrett said as he stood too and they gathered their things. “I hope to see you again.” I just gave a nod, though it was doubtful I’d ever see the guy again as I’d be in another country soon and if I did come to town, I wouldn’t have any reason to hang out with Faith. If I’d have been drunk, those thoughts would have served to sober me, but being as I’d had one drink, they just made me feel sort of hollow.
Faith leaned over and whispered something to Rory and Rory nodded. I assumed Faith had asked if she was okay with me taking her home.
We said our goodbyes and then Rory took me by the hand. “Come on, Ivy League. I love this song.” I didn’t know it, but I didn’t care. I was itching to get my arms around her in any way I could.
I followed her to the semi-crowded dance floor, pulling her to me as she wrapped her arms around my neck. I nuzzled the spot next to her ear, drinking in her scent, far more intoxicating than the bourbon I’d just drunk.
She sighed. “God, I want you. Why do I want you so much?” she asked.
My cock stiffened at the mere suggestion of sex with her. “I want you too, Cakes. You’re like an addiction.”
“You know what they say about addictions.”
“Don’t try to go it alone?”
She laughed. “Cold turkey is the only way.”
“Mm,” I hummed. She was probably right. And frankly, it was our only option. I had a feeling it wasn’t only going to be cold turkey, it was going to be frigid fucking turkey. An icy blast of need that was going to rip me apart. But for now…for now, she was in my arms and I was going to enjoy her. I was going to push all that other stuff aside and just not think about it.
I swayed with her, blanking my brain, narrowing my world to the feel of her softness pressed against me and the words of the song she loved. And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t…
She had leaned back slightly and was looking at me again in that way that made me feel both warm and vaguely terrified. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me, her lips running softly over mine before she pulled back. “What are you trying to silence when you stare into space like that? What are you battling, Gage Buchanan?” she whispered.
You make me want to live a different life. The thought caused a bleat of alarm, and that moment in Maynard Siggins’s closet came back to me, but I pushed both the alarm and the memory away. “My desire to do incredibly dirty things to you, regardless of being in public.”
She laughed softly but looked unconvinced. “I don’t think so.” She squinted. “But I’ll accept that answer too.” She stepped away and pulled my hand and I followed her.
She led me out of the bar and then laughed again as she started running. The noise of the bar dwindled as I gave chase, catching her easily around the waist and spinning her around. I grinned, feeling young and free and just a little ridiculous. Living that life I wanted to live, but only in small doses and only while I still could. “Why do I love chasing you so damn much?” I asked as she tipped her head back and smiled up at the moon.
“Because I reward you when you catch me,” she said, pulling me again and leading me into a dark space between the buildings. She planted her back against the wall of one of the buildings and took my face in her hands and kissed me. Heat rushed through my limbs, making me instantly hard again. I pressed my body against hers, moaning into her mouth.
We kissed deeply, the tension between us rising and expanding and driving me half out of my mind. I wanted to fuck her right there against that wall, in a semi-public place where anyone might walk by and see us. This wasn’t me. I’d never in my life done something like this. I’d even partied responsibly, never having more than two drinks in public, never…never…never. So many nevers. Those layers of rules I’d mentioned to Rory. And this woman seemed like every possibility I might have wanted but denied myself because of how others expected me to behave. But I didn’t want to think about any of that. I just wanted. I let out a harsh breath, bracing my hand against the wall behind her as I attempted to catch my breath.
Rory’s hand went to the button of my pants, undoing it and dragging down my zipper. “You’re drunk,” I breathed, a groan emerging as she took my rock-hard cock in her hand and stroked it once, twice.
“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy,” she said, stroking me again. “And I’m always tipsy with you, even if I haven’t had any alcohol.”
God, so was I. So was I. I leaned back in and kissed her, tugging her skirt up with both hands, some switch flipping inside me as that want turned into need, a need that felt so powerful, I shuddered.
I blearily managed to pull a condom from my wallet and slide it on right before I plunged into her. She cried out as I grunted in mutual pleasure. “Oh, Jesus,” I said before I began to move, pumping into her so that her back pounded against the wall. I put my hand behind her to provide a buffer but didn’t slow in my movements. Rory gripped me, panting as she raised her leg and wrapped it around my waist. “You’re going to make me come, Cakes, right here in a public alley. Jesus Christ, the things you do to me.”
