Page 3 of A False Start
And I already know who the winner is.
His mouth is firm, and I open for him, softening and surrendering as his tongue dances against the seam of my lips. His teeth don’t clash against mine. His beard prickles at my skin, a sensation that sizzles over every nerve ending. I push closer to him. The unyielding pressure of denim sliding up my thighs makes me ache as he comes to stand between them. And when his hips press into the cradle of mine, I shiver.
I melt.
This kiss is like a dance with a man who knows how to lead, rather than one who keeps stepping on my feet. It’s effortless, and I want it to go all night.
But it doesn’t.
He pulls away slowly, eyes raking over me, an almost confused expression on his face. My breathing is labored as I gaze up into his eyes, trying to figure out what’s going on in here—in a dirty bar bathroom with a perfect stranger.
I want him to do it again.
Instead, he lifts his thumb and rubs it down over my slack bottom lip, sending a zing of arousal right between my legs. There’s something possessive about the act. It’s a filthy secret in a grungy restroom. It makes me want to follow him out of here and spend the night unraveling the mystery.
But his hands fall limp at his side, and he steps away, leaving me cold without his body heat. “Congratulations, Wildflower.” His voice is so deep and so low that I almost don’t hear it as he turns toward the door.
My eyes bounce back and forth between the blades of his shoulders, the ones straining against the fabric of his simple t-shirt. The expanse between them held taut.
“Again.” I sound breathless, bordering on desperate. This can’t be it for the dark stranger and me. Not when he just scorched the small bit of earth I’m standing on. Not when I feel like I might have just foundsomething.
He doesn’t turn around as he wraps one big hand around the door handle. He doesn’t need to look at me to embarrass me, to make me feel small the way that most men in my life have. He only needs a few quiet, well-placed words.
“Once is an accident. Twice is a mistake.”
2
Nadia
I’m PMSing,I’m hungry, and I’m tired. It’s a deadly combination, and I’m taking that deep-rooted anger out on the keyboard as I put together invoices for the month.
As it stands, I’m working part-time at the vet clinic and also taking my last few remaining high school courses by correspondence. So, I sit at this front desk, alternately doing schoolwork or odd jobs that get handed off to me—something my boss, Dr. Thorne, is totally fine with. In fact, it was her idea.
I answer the phone and greet people when they walk in the door. For those parts of my job, I’m supposed to be chipper and polite.
Both of which I’m not today.
I want to go home, curl up with a filthy book and a bottle of Midol, and play out that kiss with the hot-as-fuck stranger from the bar bathroom on the back of my eyelids. Apparently, orgasms are good for cramps. At least that’s what my personal research has proven.
Which is why, when I hear the front door open, I stifle a groan and glance at the clock. One hour left. So close, and yet so far away. Right now, I do not want to talk to a single person, and that’s the only consideration in my mind as I swivel my chair around to face the entryway with a big fake, cheesy smile plastered on my face.
A look that freezes in place for a moment before transforming into one of utter shock, mouth hanging open like I’m about to say something. But then I just...don’t. I literally can’t because I especially don’t want to talk tothisperson.
The dirty bathroom guy—that’s what I’m calling him now—is here. At my place of work. Holding a brown paper bag and wearing a scowl that would scare most people. But not me.
Because I’m giving him an equally unimpressed look right back. I lean back in my chair, fingernails digging into the armrests as I force a grin onto my face. I don’t want to be embarrassed around this jerk. There is nothing to be ashamed of because I am a modern, single woman. I can kiss ten guys a night if I want to.
But none of them would stick with me like this prick. And that’s what really chaps my ass about him. I never let guys get to me the way he has.
“Hi. Can I help you with something? Do you have an appointment?” I take a mental note to scour the schedule and find out who he is so that I can google the hell outta him later.
But he doesn’t respond. He just holds up the paper bag. Like that explains a single thing.
“Yes. It’s a lovely bag. Do you have an appointment?” I grit my teeth. Pretty sure my forced smile is making me appear downright deranged.
His dark eyes narrow from beneath the brim of that same hat, and this time, he holds the bag up, shaking it at me.Oh, hell no.
“Dude. I don’t know what that means. How about you use your big boy words?” Oh, yeah, my patience is absolutely shot.
