SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) (5 page)

"Say it," he demands. "Call me Mason."

"Leave it alone," I ask, trying to salvage this. I just want to feel wanted, and now I feel like a deviant instead.

"Say it! It's what you wanted. It's all about you, right?"

I had no idea he'd be so cruel.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask, still hoping tonight can be rescued.

"Mason," he instructs.

"Mason," I repeat, a tear welling up in my eye. He sees the pain pooling in the corner of my lashes and he smirks. Bastard. At this exact moment he moves inside me again.
 

"Does Mason love you, or fuck you?" He asks as he starts slow rhythm.

The tear slides down my cheek. "Neither. He lies and he cheats."

Jake moves in me, still proving his skill at pleasuring a woman. My body is swirling in the physical bliss every nerve ending craves, but my soul is shattering. I don't want Mason at the front of my mind. What the hell was I thinking? That's right, I was trying to piss off Dade. My little comment served its purpose, but is destroying me now.
 

"If he lies," Jake says as he slams hard into me and stills, looking me directly in the eye. "Then why do you want him? You could be here with me. Your loss, baby."

Jake then proceeds to take his half of the evening. He drives a selfish pace, paying little attention to my needs. He groans out his own satisfaction and leaves me hanging, denying me the final pleasure I crave. Bastard is punishing me for wanting someone else, even though I don't mean a thing to him. Two more tears fall as my body remains tense and wound too tight. I hate this man, even more when his words cut me again.

"Now Mason fucked you over twice."

In less then a minute I'm out his door and walking down the stairs of his building, trying not to sob as I make my way two blocks to my car. My hurt and anger render me plenty sober now to be driving. I scan my surroundings nervously. I don't like being out in the middle of the night. I wipe a few more stray tears from my cheek.
 

I'm trying hard to convince myself and Dade how tough I've become, but the truth lies in the ugly, opposite direction. Half of what I'm doing terrifies me, especially in the hours of sober clarity immediately following. Jake is a bastard for rubbing my face in the fact that I'm spiraling out of control. Couldn't he have just fucked me nice and left it at that? I choke back yet another sob. Never mind, I should embrace the pain. At this point I'm almost thankful. At least the hurt will stick around.

I hate the woman I'm becoming, but I don't know how else to be right now.
 

As I'm about to get in my car, I notice movement. I turn quickly, panic bubbling up and simmering with the anger already dancing in my chest.
 

What the hell?
 

I glare at Dade, furious he stuck around to see this un-glorious walk of shame. If I'm generous I'll assume he's here to make sure I'm ok. If I'm realistic, he's up to something and it's creepy. With a shake of my head I unlock my car and climb in. I check my mirrors as I drive away, making certain he's not following me. I hate him. I hate them all.

I manage to keep myself away from the bars for an entire week, filling my time instead with my computer, breaking further into the National Gallery and a few other easier hacks. Destructive decisions seem to be my thing right now anyway. Why not go all in? Good decisions are pointless.

I could reallocate bank funds or toy with the employment records at the largest car manufacturer in the country. My destructive side only applies to myself, apparently. I don't have any desire to destroy someone else. There's too much pain in the world anyway.

A week after my debacle with Jake, I walk into the office at work and my gut sinks. The somber expression on everyone's face proves the proverbial pink slips have been delivered. Chuck walks up and says
I'm sorry
in the most human voice I've heard from him yet.
 

I choke back another set of tears as I walk silently to my desk. He follows me with a folder containing my exit-interview papers and a confirmation of my termination to turn into Social Services if I need to go on unemployment benefits.
 

A box is insultingly and yet kindly waiting for me on my chair. I guess I'm not supposed to even sit down before I clear out. Who cares? I don't have any personal photos to take with me anyway. I grab my own flash drive and I take the damn stapler just because.
 

Without a single word to anyone, I take my mostly-empty box from the office and walk to my car. I don't bother going home, but I can't find a damn bar open at 8:30 in the morning. One trip to the liquor store cures my need for some escape, and I get drunk in the park like a fucking hobo. I ignore the fact that when I sneeze, there's no one to say
bless you.

I don't bother calling Callen. He's too wrapped up in his own world. I call a cab from the now-familiar service and get a ride home where I thankfully pass out. I think vaguely as I fall under that I don't really need a car anymore. I won't miss my salary all that much anyway, so I go home and work on cutting my budget.

When I can no longer take the solitude, I force myself to get out of bed today, only to slut-up to go to the bar. Dade, of course, follows me in shortly after.
 

He allows us to sit in silence for a few minutes when I notice someone thick-muscled and interested to my right. I smile at this new man instantly, ready to ditch the monk to my left. The guy orders me another drink and I bite my lip to the side. I feel like telling Dade to take notes on how to pick up a woman. I glance over to his water-drinking self and he's scowling. Serves him right. I give him a pointed glare before I turn my attention again to my new guy. His voice is deep and sexy when he speaks.
 

"I saw you in here the other night," he almost drawls. "You went home with the biggest douche in the bar."

"No kidding," I smirk. "And I suppose you're a better choice?"

"Hmm. At least I bought you a drink. What's your name, sugar?"

I almost cringe at being called sugar, but I suppose I'll take it as a compliment. He finds me sweet, which is the first step in finding me desirable. "Shelby."

"You are a very sexy woman, Shelby." His smile is hot, and his eyes are just…alive.
 

"Thank you," I grin with my head cocked to the side. "And you are…"

"Yours," he says seductively.

I grin like a damn school girl, all while ignoring the whispers warning again how wrong this is. "No seriously," I say over the sound of my own trepidation. I'm not messing with names again. "What's your name?"

"Nathan," he smiles seductively again. Everything he does can be described as seductive. His very being oozes sex. I nearly shiver.

"Hi, Nathan," I lean in.

He rests his hand on my leg and I shift closer to him. With a hot, victorious expression, Nathan leans in and kisses my neck once directly under my earlobe. A sultry whisper meets my ear. "Tonight," he breathes. "I'll take you home and show you what a real man can do for you."

His breath brings goose bumps to my arms as I force my eyes not to roll at his cheesy line. He's hot and well-built, and most importantly he's dedicating himself to me tonight. Fuck you, Dade.

Less than an hour later, I'm in my house with Nathan, smiling through the hot foreplay because this is the best part of my life: the physical bliss. I am living for the sensation of having my sensitive nipples pinched mingle with the heat of his breath on my neck.
 

"You like that?" Nathan asks arrogantly.
 

"Mmmm," I sound in appreciation.
 

Very much,
I think to myself.
Mason used to do that.
…
fuck
.
 

I hate my mind for thinking of him. I only want my body involved here. "More," I beg, hoping Nathan can distract me completely.

"Can't get enough?" he ups his arrogant tone. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Fuck me," I breathe.

He wastes no time rolling a condom down his cock. With a passion consuming me completely, Nathan pushes himself into me hard and instantly has me moaning. His fingers pinch me in all the right places as he grinds and thrusts.
 

"You fucking love my cock in you," he says, his arrogance building as he listens to me pant below him. He's right…I'm getting everything I want and he works his body like a goddamn warrior.
 

"Yes…you're so good…"

"Fucking right, I am," he grits out. He may be the most arrogant man I've played with, but also the most human. There is at least some connection between us.

I moan and swear below him, higher than I've been in a long time. God, I need this, and Nathan is offering my cure. He continues to work me over until I'm shattering into a million pieces, screaming out his name as I come. My inner muscles clench around him tight as he rides me hard, finding his final satisfaction in me. "FUUUUUUUCK…" he calls out through his orgasm.

He allows himself a few minutes to catch his breath before he looks down at me with another arrogant smirk. He may be arrogant, but he has reason to be.

"I fucking gave it to you good."

I offer a sexy purr in spite of his ridiculous self-praise. "Yes you did."

"Say it again," he super-sized ego demands.
 

"You are a beast in bed," I smile, feeling nothing but a warm body-glow and his dedication to me. Arrogant or not, he's focused on the two of us and how good we are together. He drifts to sleep soon after, and I admire the tone of his body. Thinking I might want another night with Nathan, I go to my kitchen and scribble down my number for him.

Part of me knows this is an illusion, but I'll float in the fantasy as long as I can. Another night or two won't hurt. He stirs from his sleep an hour later and sits up and grabs his clothes.

"I had a great night, Shelly," he says to me as he pulls his jeans up over his tight ass.
Shelly?
I shrivel.

"It's Shelby."
 

"Shelby. Right," he smiles in a rakish kind of way.

I can forgive one letter, I suppose. We did just meet, after all.

"I had a good night, too, Nathan. I jotted my number down for you. It's on the little table by the door."

"Thanks," he grins as he pulls his shirt over his muscled chest. He may be an ass who didn't pay attention to my name enough to remember the letter 'b', but his tight physique and his skill in bed makes it easy to want him to come back.
 

He leans down to my bed and gives me a deep kiss goodbye before he waves to me from my bedroom doorway. I hear my front door click open and shut before I drag my half-hungover ass out of bed.

Coffee is my next requirement, and I set up the pot to brew while I think again about Nathan filling my body and my needs so perfectly last night, not to mention the hot grin he gave me before he kissed me on his way out. I sip my coffee, surveying my house with satisfaction this morning…until I look at the table beside the door, where my number sits as lonely as I am all over again.

I'm such a goddamn idiot.

For the next week I repeat the same damn pattern. I barely look for work. I play with my hacking hobby. I drink at home. I tell myself I'm not going to the bar again…until I'm overwhelmed and need time with other people, even if that time becomes destructive. This is addictive behavior and I don't care, because there's no one to host an intervention anyway.
 

I pretend a bar called Skipped and another called Century Haul will make what I'm doing something different, but the pattern remains. Every guy I meet offers me the hot pleasure I'm looking for, as well as the chance to pretend I'm wanted. Afterward, every guy proves himself to be a different kind of asshole.
 

The strangest part is Dade. There's no question any longer, he's got to be some kind of stalker if he's showing up at every bar I find. Even more strange is the fact that he's the most normal part of the pattern. In spite of his brooding, he's nice, respectful, and oddly comforting in the middle of all my questionable behavior. Aside from his obvious frustration with me, he doesn't lecture or judge. He makes no sense in a very good way, even on the nights he keeps me from finding any sort of release.