Barely Breathing

Eric’s face fell. “Oh. I thought—”

“I really do have to get up early,” I said, putting a hand on top of his on the table. “Can we get together again sometime soon?”

His expression brightened. “Yeah? How soon? Wanna share a cab?”

“Sure. If we’re going in the same direction.”

He signed the check and tucked his credit card back inside his wallet. “What if we both go in the direction of my place?”

I bit the inside of my lip, forcing myself not to let my defeat show. He thought he was getting laid tonight. That explained his enthusiasm.

Dating was the worst. THE. WORST. I needed to take a month off of it and watch chick flicks and eat takeout in my pajamas. I was persistent and damned if I was a quitter. People at work even called me tenacious. But dating required a streak of masochism and I was over it. For now, anyway.

“I think I live in the other direction,” I said, getting up from the table. “Thanks for a nice evening, Eric.”

I didn’t even have to turn around to know he was behind me, pushing his way past people to catch up. I’d just pushed open the front door to leave when I felt a hand grabbing my wrist.

“Vivian, don’t go.”

I glared at him and pulled away. “I have to work in the morning. I need to get home.”

The cool spring air on my face was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the crowded club. I headed for the curb to hail a cab.

“What the hell just happened?” Eric demanded from behind me.

I turned. His easy smile was gone. Now his expression was pissed.

“I’m looking for more than just sex,” I said, crossing my arms. “I thought you knew that when we set up this date.”

“Yeah, well . . . maybe you shouldn’t have flirted so hot and heavy over dinner, then.”

I felt my eyes bulge with indignation. Stepping away from the curb, I approached Eric and pointed at his chest.

“I did no such thing, you asshole.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked at me. “Please, Vivian. The skirt? The way you licked your lips and played with your hair?”

My anger grew stronger, clouding my better judgment. I grimaced at Eric with disgust and took another step toward him. “What? Seriously? Because I’m wearing a skirt? I’m a twenty-eight-year old woman with a pretty decent vocabulary. If I wanted you to fuck me, I would have said, ‘Fuck me, Eric’. Instead, I’m saying fuck you.”

I rarely lost my cool, but the all too prevalent male mindset that a woman in a skirt was desperate to be bedded was just too infuriating to be ignored.

“You’re hot when you’re angry,” Eric said, wiggling his brows at me.

I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t worth my time. I was turning back toward the curb when he reached out and pulled my cell phone from my hand.

“What’ve we got here?” he said, holding it up and out of my reach.

“Give me my phone.”

He backed up several steps and I followed. I’d been very wrong about this guy. As he reached the corner of the Six building, Eric gave me a look that was supposed to be playful and disappeared into the alley.

I took a breath, reminding myself to keep cool. I couldn’t afford an involvement in an altercation that could jeopardize my job. But that was my phone and he was an asshole, and I wasn’t about to get trampled this way.

“Eric,” I said, my voice icy as I entered the alley, “give me my phone or I’m calling the cops.”

My breath whooshed from my lungs and my back hit the brick wall.

“You’re a cocktease.” Eric’s breath was hot on my face. He clamped a hand over my mouth and shoved a knee up between my legs.

My blood ran cold at the unwelcome contact. The phone suddenly seemed like a very stupid reason to follow an unknown man into a dark alley.

“Who’s an asshole now?” Eric’s expression was amused and angry at the same time.

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