SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) (3 page)

Two slinking steps later and I'm standing too close to this gentleman, biting my lip.
 

"Shelby," I grin with my hand on his
holy-shit-he's-firm
shoulder. With a flirty, playful tone, I ask the traditional, "Come here often?"

He responds with a subtle shake of his head as he reaches for his beer. "Not really."

"Hmmm. Maybe you should," I grin and look up through my lashes at him. Up close he's even more beautiful than I realized. Shadowy stubble highlights his strong jaw, which perfectly complements his masculine cheekbones. His eyes are dark and crinkled at the corners, and his expression carries a concerned frown. He's too rough to be handsome, but a little too handsome to be called rough.

"You look tense," I say with flirting concern. "Maybe you need to relax…"

This beautiful specimen of a man looks at me in an 'oh please' sort of sarcasm. I smirk.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" I ask.

He considers the idea for a beat then he nods. "Dade."

"
Dade
?" I ask. "Your name is
Dade
?"

He looks up at me appraisingly. He searches my features too long before he speaks. "That's my name."

"Then it's nice to meet you, Dade."

"Likewise."

He doesn't seem to be flirting with me in spite of the fact I'm sending signals as obvious as red, glowing flares. He spends more time looking into his beer than looking into my eyes. Still, he's the best looking guy in the place, and he's built like Adonis. Considering the perfection of his physique and the general strength of his presence, Dade is certainly my first choice here tonight. I'd go so far as to say he's down right yummy. Still, he's hesitant...almost awkward. Why in the world? I'd go home with him right now, whether or not that's a dangerous decision. I'm tired of making good choices. They all seem to bite me in the ass eventually.

"So what do you do, Dade?" I ask as I sit on the stool next to him and gesture for another drink.
 

His eyes meet mine again, but he doesn't answer right away. I lean in and wait, hoping he'll get the point.
 

"I'm sure you're more interesting than I am, Shelby," he says with a smile-smirk. "What is it that
you
do?"

I shrug off the question.
Nerd
isn't the vibe I'm going for here;
Vixen
is my play tonight.
 

"Nothing exciting enough to talk about on a night like this," I say with a wicked grin, leaning in closer. He watches me with his eyes narrowed, but doesn't warm up. I wish he'd drop the boy scout routine, because I want more time with this chiseled piece of awesome, up close and personal. My former self can go straight to hell...right before the new me falls into the pit with her.

I notice another guy eyeing me from further down the bar. He's standing there, leaning far enough over the smudged oak surface to get a clear line of sight toward my cleavage. He grins when I catch him ogling me, completely unashamed. Dade could learn a few things from this guy. My new suitor is sort of hot in his own right, though much more rough around the edges. He has the bad-boy vibe coming off of him in waves…and there's no doubt he's interested. I may have to give up on Dade.
 

Another moment later, Mr. Tall Dark & Badass walks over and gets right between me and Dade. Hell yeah, now here's a man who knows what he wants.
 

"Excuse us," Dade says, obviously frustrated with the intrusion. Whatever. It's his own damn fault.

"Yeah. You
can
be excused now," leather-jacket says to him, never taking his gravely-green eyes off me.
 

"Yeah, I guess you can," I repeat to Dade, standing and cozying up to my new plan for the evening.
 

"We should finish our drink, Shelby," Dade says, appearing concerned for me. Ugh.

I toss back my shot quickly. "There. All done," I say blandly. "Have a good night, Dade."
 

I look up into the amused eyes of my new suitor…who already has his hand on my ass. Allowing this new alpha-attitude to guide me to a cozy booth in the corner, I finally introduce myself.

"Shelby," I say in the sexiest voice I can muster as he slides in next to me.

"Nice to meet you," he says as he blatantly ogles me. He doesn't offer his name, and frankly I don't care to know it.

I have very little interest in him as an individual, nor do I care to participate in this ritual of pre-hookup niceties, but I can't exactly strip him down in the bar. At the very least, I know he wants me. Feeling wanted is something I crave more than anything right now. Sex with a stranger may be necessary to feel it, but the idea of being this guy's entire world tonight consumes me. I lean in closer. He knows exactly what I'm after.
 

He pulls me in for a hungry kiss, then regards me with even hungrier eyes. "You know what you want?"

I may not speak the words, but I have no doubt my eyes are screaming the truth at him. I don't want to go on a date. I don't want the boyfriend experience. I don't ever want to fall in love. Fuck love. I want the escape.

This hot badass's lips curve into a predator's smile, screaming the truth in return. He wants me, end of story. An obvious pragmatist, he runs his hand around my ribs and jerks me tight against him. "Can I call you mine for the night?"
 

I give him a hot grin.
 

"Yes" I purr, not bothering to pretend this is anything other than what it is. I choose to ignore how low I'm sinking right now. I'm so sick of
everything
, and this guy promises to be
everything else
, if only for a night.

Without another word he leads me straight out the door. I glance back to see Dade glaring at me in frustration. If he's jealous, it's his own fault. He made no attempt to pick me up. He didn't want me at all. My man for the evening, however, can't stop touching me.
 

The heat from his hand soaks into my skin, and I close my eyes and take myself where I want to be. I'm desired, I'm loved, and I'm living the illusion. I'll pick up the broken pieces of my heart again tomorrow, but tonight I have my fantasy to fill me up.
 

I follow this guy to his house. He lets me inside and gets straight to business. Good. I don't want to be adored, simply desired. Raw is perfect, and I can pretend he loves me without putting up with the bullshit.
 

"You," he says heatedly as he pulls me hard into his body, "are one sexy fucking woman. Seeing you at the bar...all I could think about was getting those skinny legs around me."

I put my lingering nerves aside and look straight into his eyes.
 

"You want me," I breathe.

"Fuck yes..." he whispers, taking a handful of my hair and pulling my face closer to his, groping my ass with his free hand.
 

"Well Shelby," he says, leaning back to leer up and down my entire body. "I'm going to fuck you just right."

"And how is that?"

"Hard," he breathes hotly across my neck. "Often."

His lips begin sucking against my neck and his hands begin his promise, grabbing my hips and digging his fingers in. I let myself get lost until he speaks again.

"You're all mine, baby," he rasps possessively.
 

Right
, I think bitterly.
I've heard that before
.
 

"Shut up," I breathe, tilting my head back for him. I don't care how long he intends to keep me, but his definition makes no difference. "Don't say anything that sounds like a goddamn promise. I don't want to be yours."

"So bitter," he chuckles, enjoying the taste of my neck, his hand now palming the shape of my breast.
 

His snide comment pisses me off, but I breathe a pleasured sigh through my irritation with him. I'm getting what I want, but I don't need to be mocked. Still, I keep my mouth shut because I need his desire either way.
 

He pushes me up against the wall and I forget everything, allowing myself to get hotter with every passing moment. I close my eyes and get swept away in the heat, thrilled to feel hands on my body. His palms press and pull while his knee parts my legs. His denim-clad thigh presses hard into my center and I gasp.
 

"I like that sound," he says into my collar bone as he jerks his thigh again to hear me gasp once more. His teeth graze my skin as I squeeze his shoulders. I thank the stars his fingers drown out my nagging trepidation. I don't want to think about a goddamn thing.
 

Thankfully he holds me to the wall and kisses me hard, his desire urgent and pushing away any thoughts I may have. I kiss him with equal passion, losing myself in the fantasy.

"Just want me," I moan as he pushes the ridge of his erection against my center.
 

"Oh, I do," he says heatedly at my ear. "And I plan to take you, and show you exactly who's bitch you are."

As of that comment, I hate every single thing about this man but his body. He's hot, moves with skill, and though I'm on the edge of tears over what I'm about to do, I'm ready to get fucked by this stranger. I still don't know his damn name. One tear escapes my eyelid as he carries me to his bedroom. Part of me is glad the word
foreplay
isn't defined properly in this man's dictionary.

"Get naked, baby," he demands with heat in his eyes, leaning away to watch. He may be leering, but I don't want to look at all. I close my eyes and strip down to nothing, wishing for one of two things: I wish I were far away from here, or I wish he'd get on top of me already.
 

The second wish is quickly granted, and within moments his clothes are dropped carelessly on the floor, and he's got a condom on his cock. What happens next is physically incredible, to be honest. His body is thin-but-toned, and he enters me with obvious skill. His hips roll in just the right way to drive me into the exact pleasure I've been craving. I'm moaning below him, still with my eyes closed. I want to ignore the windows to whatever kind of soul he has, because the tangible side is the only side that counts.

His lips tease my neck deliciously and his hand pinches perfectly at my nipple. I'm enamored with the muscles of his back as they flex and tighten under my nails. Moans of abandon pour from both of us.
 

"Come on, baby," he says as his pace increases. "Scream for me…"

Without thinking a single thought, I let go. I rock my hips hard beneath him and arch up in total freedom. My entire body celebrates his desire for me. I smile and spread my legs wider, welcoming the delicious tug deep in my belly, coiling me into rapturous pleasure. "Yes! Yes! Uh…" I call out loudly as I come, swirling in the physical bliss I yearned for. My climax is intense, exactly as I needed it to be.

My eyes are still closed as I calm my breathing and focus on every warm nerve and loose joint in my body. I love this feeling. I'm living for this feeling, regardless of who's hovering over me.

"That's right baby," he drawls arrogantly. "You're my bitch."

His voice breaks my spell and reminds me of the ugly side of my need. At any other point in my life I would never be with a man who would call me his bitch. Ownership is not my style. His physical pleasure warms me…my gut chills in return, because I still don't know his goddamn name.

CHAPTER THREE

Two days and about six showers later, I'm spending my day at work, pretending I didn't dive off a cliff into swirling, self-destructive waters below. I imagine myself as the same old Shelby, but I'm not. I crossed a line the other night, and I'm not sure I can go back. I've cried more tears than I can count.

The normalcy of work helps to some extent, but doesn't help my need for human interaction. Chuck remains clueless. He scowls at me like he often does, and I sigh as I log on to our system and start prioritizing the damn help tickets again. Sadly, all I can think about is no-name from the shady bar. Hell, I don't even remember the name of the bar. I shake my head at myself as I transfer pertinent information to my tablet and head off into the bullpen. I see all the white-collar zombies moving through their day, and suddenly my mistake the other night seems like a rush of living life to the fullest. Anything is better than the sadness in my heart. A random fuck at least offers
some
sensation.
 

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