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She glanced at the time. It was late, but that wasn’t the reason she shouldn’t text him. It was because she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what he did to her on the pool table. Or in his bed.
When she closed her eyes, she saw his face.
When she closed her eyes, she felt his touch.
When she closed her eyes, she remembered his scent.
His voice.
The taste of his tongue against hers.
The pressure of his lips against hers.
How her body quivered under his.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him no matter how hard she tried.
It both disturbed her and pissed her off, too.
She had one night with him.
One.
One night should mean nothing. People had one-night-stands all the time. Hell, how many “quickies” had she walked in on in the restrooms and back storage areas of places The Synners had played? Personally, she didn’t do quickies or one-night-stands, but other people did and she doubted they obsessed over the person they fucked.
To them it was a transaction, not a purchase.
Maybe her unexpected obsession was due to her weary brain not functioning properly.
Her finger hovered over the app for her contacts.
She should leave him alone and forget about him.
She should forget about him. She didn’t need a distraction.
She didn’t.
Don’t do it. Don’t, Syn.
By contacting him, you hand him power.
He’ll know he’s in your thoughts. He’ll know you can’t stop thinking about him.
She laid the phone on her chest until the screen went dark.
Staring up at the bus roof, she listened to the snoring and released a long, frustrated groan.
She snatched up the phone and the screen lit up again.
Before she could stop herself, she jabbed her contacts app, opened it and found his number. She quickly typed out a text and hit send before she was tempted to stop herself.
Her message was simple. Thank u 4 givn us a chance.
She quickly followed it up with, Thank u 4 the heaters.
“Fuck,” she whispered, turned the screen off and slammed the phone face down on her chest.
It was late. He probably wouldn’t get those messages until morning, anyway.
She should turn the power off on her phone. To conserve the battery. To resist texting him anything else.
Suddenly, her eyes went wide and her pulse raced.
He now had her phone number.
Oh shit. That was a huge mistake.
Or was it even a mistake at all?
Dodge stared at his phone as he peeled his fingers from around his hard-on. The two texts that came in covered Syn’s photo. The one he happened to be staring at while he did a little self-help stress relief.
Should he feel guilty for using her picture? Probably.
Did he? Fuck no.
Last call downstairs had been over an hour ago. Micah and the newly-named Dozer had finished closing and the bar was now empty. Everything was quiet. It had been the perfect time to relax and wind down so he could fall sleep.
He didn’t want to think about how many times he pulled out his phone while working tonight and glanced at one of her photos. He also didn’t want to think about how many times he’d done that since last Saturday.
Too many to count.
The problem was, he couldn’t get her out of his head enough to even consider fucking anyone else.
She was living in his goddamn head rent-free. He should evict her.
But her text proved he was also living in hers.
His mouth pulled up on one side and he scratched his beard while considering her texts again. Did she even realize by texting him, he now had her number?
Did she do that on purpose?
At least Sig had a way to contact her now. Dodge hadn’t seen the man since last Sunday but the VP kept texting him to ask if Dodge heard from his sister.
Like Dodge wouldn’t tell him if he had. He wouldn’t do that to Sig or Syn.
But first he needed to give Syn a heads up. That would only be smart, right?
Of course. It also gave him the perfect excuse to hear her sultry voice in his ear again. If she picked up the phone instead of being difficult and sending him directly to voicemail.
She was probably someone who hated phone calls and preferred texts. Too fucking bad.
He hit the phone icon in her text and was shocked as fuck when the call connected. A whispered, “Hey,” filled his ear.
Best goddamn “hey” he’d ever heard. It filled him with shit he never felt before and certainly didn’t want to identify.
It also caused his erection to flex and remind him that it had been rudely forgotten.
Christ. He only slept with her one night. His reaction to her was not normal.
None of this was.
“Don’t gotta thank me again.”
“I don’t. But one of the heaters just kicked on and it reminded me of you.”
He cleared the late-night rough from his throat. “Should I be insulted that you’re only rememberin’ me for a heater instead of anythin’ else?”
