“You’ve known me two minutes but you already know I’m bad for you?”
“Oh, yeah.” She rakes her gaze down my body like she did before, but this time there’s so much intensity behind the look that my dick is hard before she even makes her way back up to meet my eyes. “You have that dark-and-brooding look about you. You know, like you’re too busy being pissed at the world to enjoy the little things. A real asshole.” She presses her palm to her chest. “It just so happens that I’m a sucker for assholes. I’ve spent the last eight years of my life collecting them.”
“You collect assholes. That’s . . . different.”
She grins, unashamed and sexy as fuck. “Obviously, I’m good at it, too, since I’m at this stupid party alone when I was supposed to be here with a guy I thought liked me.”
“You have me all wrong,” I mutter.
“You’re not an asshole, or you’re not pissed at the world?”
“I’m not—” Oh hell. I’m not sure I can deny either. I fucking love my life, but I’ve definitely indulged in my share of asshole behavior in my efforts to live life large. Though I’m not always pissed at the world—only sometimes and about certain things.
She laughs. “And you suck at simple conversation.” She tips her beer up and drains it. “You are so my type.” She adds something else in a mutter I can’t hear, but I’m pretty sure it’s I need a lobotomy.
“I’ve never been so offended by a woman admitting she’s attracted to me. Kudos.”
“My talents are unique.” She shrugs.
“So the guy who stood you up . . . I’m assuming he’s also your type?”
“Obviously. I’m beginning to think it’s not a type so much as an addiction. But nice guys bore the shit out of me, so . . .”
I know a thing or two about addictions—especially unconventional ones. Like this girl, my addictions come wrapped in an experience and not a powder or pill. I’m addicted to the thrill. The kind of rush so intense that I do crazier and crazier shit to chase it. The kind of addiction that has you scaring the shit out of your family while you’re just trying to feel alive. “Maybe it’s time to go cold turkey.”
Her bottom lip darts out in a pout, then she turns, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she studies me. I didn’t come here to find someone to warm my bed, but she’s tempting the shit out of me.
“You don’t live around here, do you?” I ask.
“Actually, I do.”
I cock my head to the side. “Is that so?” I’ve lived in Jackson Harbor all my life. Once, I believed there was no one in this town I didn’t know, but I’m not home as much as I used to be, and I miss a lot of the new faces.
“I’m new,” she says, “but I like it. Or I did until the jerk who stood me up tonight ruined a perfect start in a perfect city.”
I lift my chin. Now I understand exactly why she started this conversation—she’s looking for me to quiet her insecurities. “So we’ve circled back to him.”
She groans. “Sorry. That was tacky. I hate that I care.”
“Is this jerk a boyfriend or just . . .?”
“Not a boyfriend yet. I don’t know. We’re not so new that it doesn’t sting but new enough that it shouldn’t. Tonight’s important. He was going to introduce me to someone who might be able to give me an amazing job, and . . .” She bites her lip and holds my gaze. “I thought he really liked me.”
“Do you plan to stay and wait for him to show, or are you going to get out of here?” Even as I say it, I’m not sure if it’s an invitation or just a question.
Apparently, neither is she. “I guess that depends on you. Now that you know my type, I’m wondering about yours.”
“I’m not sure I have one.” But I do, and she’s it.
“Everyone has a type.”
“Why don’t you tell me, since you already know me so well.”
She studies me carefully, as if staring at me long enough might reveal the inner workings of my mind, then she snaps her fingers. “Ooh! You’re one of those bad boys who likes good girls.”
I actually laugh. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah. I bet you’re into virgins. Preachers’ daughters. You get off on the idea that no one has touched her before you. You love introducing a woman to pleasures she’s never known.”
I smirk. “Trust me, a woman doesn’t need to be a virgin for me to do that.”
“Arrogant, too,” she says, and her gaze lands on my mouth. “I bet you like them quiet. Girls who wait for instructions.”
“Oh, fuck no.” I laugh. I’m too selfish to be with a wilting flower type. I like women who aren’t afraid to speak their minds, who will say it like they see it and call me on my bullshit.
“Then tell me,” she says, sliding closer, “what does a guy like you want?”
You. Against me. Under me. On top of me. I shrug. “A woman who laughs when it’s funny and not when it’s expected, and who doesn’t take life too seriously.” I turn, mimicking her posture with a shoulder on the wall so we’re face to face and closer now, only inches between our bodies instead of the feet between us at the start of this conversation. I dip my head and put my mouth next to her ear. “Beautiful women who prefer fucking over making love, and know exactly what they want in and out of bed.”
She pulls back to meet my eyes and drags her lip between her teeth.
“You know anyone like that?”
“I might. Tell me more, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bad for Me.”
“You know all you need to.” I bring my mouth back to her ear. “The only question now is: do you know what you want? Are you the kind of woman who’s going to stand here eye-fucking me all night and then go home alone? Or are you the kind who’s going to meet me in the hallway behind the kitchen and let me show you just how dirty I like my women?” I step back so I can see her face—her wide eyes and parted lips—and suddenly, instead of counting down the minutes until I can leave, I’m praying she wants to stay and keep me occupied long after I intended to end this night.
“You’ve met!”
I tear my eyes off the girl and turn to Colton. Great timing, cock blocker. “Nice of you to finally show, asshole.” I look at my watch. “You’re forty-five minutes late.”
Colton gives me a hard look. “I had to take care of some shit.” His expression softens as he turns to her. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Really late.” She folds her arms. “You promised you’d be here.”
He smirks. “And I am.”
Is Colton the guy who stood her up?
“Late,” she says.
He holds up both hands. “I know. Inexcusable, but you two met, and all’s well that ends well, right?” He steps closer and wraps his arm possessively around her waist before turning to me. “What do you think of Ellie?”
Ellie?
The brunette and I exchange a look, and she swallows hard. “You’re the best friend?” she asks. “You’re Levi?”
I nod slowly. My lust-clogged brain feels fuzzy. “You’re the girl who has Colton acting like a smitten teenager.” She’s the one Colton’s spent the last two weeks prattling on about. The one he’s serious about—which is a miracle in and of itself. Fuck.
Ellie frowns at him. “Since you stood me up, I was trying to decide whether to have Levi take me home or just let him feel me up in the bathroom.”
That brings me to attention, and I blink at her. Is she serious? Or just fucking with Colton?
Colton turns her in his arms and tugs her close so she’s standing between his legs. “One, I’m here, so I didn’t stand you up. And two, don’t joke about that shit.” He lifts his chin in my direction. “Levi’s my boy, but I’d still have to lay him out if he tried to move in on my girl.”
“Your girl? Since when did I become your girl?” she asks.