[2016] First Comes Love Page 4

  Not a single woman in the world is more off-limits than her.

  And there has never been a single incident where she has indicated any sort of attraction to me. Not once, and I’ve thrown a few moves at her from time to time. It’s frustrating, a bit of an ego blow, and really, just makes me want her more. She’s a challenge, but it’s so much more than that.

  Lauren is everything I’m not, everything I don’t deserve. I respect her as much as I want her.

  “The guy was a total sexist pig. So I left.”

  “You just walked out?”

  She nods. “I said I was going to the bathroom. I think he got the hint when I took my coat and purse.”

  I lean away just enough to look into her eyes. “Sorry you had a date that bad.”

  “I got a free dinner out of it, at least. But Jenny’s probably going to get an earful. It was a friend of a friend sort of thing.”

  “But how did you end up here?”

  “We were at that Mexican restaurant down the street. He drove, and I’m not getting in a car with him. I called Katie, Colin, and Jenny, but no one picked up. So I walked here to get out of the rain and to hide from the asshole. And I can really use a drink right now.”

  “I think you need one after that kind of night. Come to the bar, it’s on me.”

  “Thanks,” she says. I extend my hand and she looks at it for a moment, considering taking it. She looks around the crowded bar and pulls her shoulders in. She knows she’s out of place here. After the longest few seconds, she puts her hand in mine and lets me lead her through the crowd.

  I kick another regular out of his spot at the bar so Lauren can take a seat. She pulls her jacket closer to her body and smiles at me again. The gesture is cordial at best, and I know she’s just waiting for someone to come get her and take her away from this place.

  It shouldn’t bother me. So why the fuck am I taking it personally?

  “What do you want to drink?” I ask her.

  She wrinkles her nose just a bit, and I find it adorable. “I don’t know. I don’t really like the way booze tastes, unless it’s wine.”

  I laugh. “You can’t get wine here. Want a beer? I can get you one of those sissy lime-flavored ones.”

  “I don’t like beer either.”

  “You’re killing me.”

  “Sorry,” she offers. “Make me something that tastes good?”

  “I can do that.” I quickly make her a Cherry Vodka Sour then get flagged to fill another order. Joey is struggling, and Lauren is hunched over, busy texting, so I mix up another few drinks before I go back to her.

  In the few minutes it takes me to get everyone around the bar what they ordered, Lauren has finished her drink.

  “Can I have another?” she asks and leans back a bit. Her body begins to relax, starting with her shoulders. She’s always been a bit uptight. “That kind of tastes like lemonade. It’s good.”

  “Sure,” I say and mix up another. She sips it slowly and diverts her eyes to her phone.

  “Find a ride?” I ask, leaning on the bar so she can hear me.

  “Not yet.”

  “I can take you home,” I tell her.

  “But you’re working.”

  “Actually, I’m not. Just helping out.”

  “Oh,” she says, looking confused. Is she drunk already? “Okay.”

  I go back behind the bar to get my leather jacket, talking down my cock. Lauren is my best friend’s sister. I’ve known her for years. She should feel like my sister. I should not be thinking about rolling the straps of that tight dress off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. I should not be wondering what she tastes like, what it would feel like to stick my dick inside her.

  “Ready?” she asks me when I get to her side.

  “Yeah, come on.”

  She follows me outside, heels wobbling on the gravel drive. The rain has stopped and the night is cool. I zip up my jacket and tell Lauren to do the same.

  “Why?” she asks and pops buttons into place. “Does the heat not work in your car?”

  “Oh it works just fine,” I say and fish the keys from my pocket. “But I didn’t drive my car tonight.”

  She slows, tipping her head as she tries to make sense of what I said. I stop next to my bike.

  “Oh hell no!” she exclaims. “I can’t ride that! I’m in a dress!”

  I give her a crooked grin. “That’s never stopped anyone before. Hop on, baby.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Don’t call me baby. And you said nothing about riding that thing when you said you’d take me home. I’m in a dress and heels and it’s cold.”

  “Then go back inside and wait for a ride, princess.” I don’t start the bike, don’t make a move to get on. I’m not going to leave her here, no way. Not dressed like that, and not drunk. Not ever. Because I never want to do anything that doesn’t make Lauren happy.

  “Maybe I will,” she says. “And I’ll find someone with a car to take me home.”

  “Really? Be my guest then,” I say flatly with a shake of my head. She might be drunk, but she’s not shit-faced enough to think that’s actually a good idea.

  She lets out a breath. “Just take me home.”

  I fire up the engine and laugh. “You know,” I say and turn back to Lauren. “I’ve never had an issue getting a chick on the bike before.”

  “Sure,” she says and rolls her eyes.

  “Really. They dig it.”

  She slowly runs her gaze over me and then looks at the bike. “I suppose some people might find getting on the back of a motorcycle with a leather-clad tattooed man sexy.”

  Was that a compliment? Does she find me sexy? Fuck, I need to distance myself. “Of course they do. Have you seen me?” I smile so she’s knows I’m joking, though really, this works.

  “Try it on me.”

  “On you … on … what?”

  “Your lines. That these women supposedly ‘can’t resist’ and go home with you.” She even adds air quotes when she’s talking.

  “I can’t just say it. It has to happen naturally.”

  “Mhh-hmm. So pretend you already put the moves on me. We’re out in the parking lot after all.”

  I shrug. “Then I’d say something like get on, come home with me, then I’ll get you off.” I lower my voice as I speak and give Lauren the best eye fuck I can.

  It always works.

  But not this time, and she doubles over laughing. “Sorry,” she says, gasping for air. She straightens up, wipes her eyes, and laughs again. “That actually works?”

  My jaw is set. “Every time.”

  “If you say so.”

  I swing my leg over the bike. “Get on.”

  She comes up behind me and puts her hands on my waist. I can’t think about it. I can’t acknowledge her gentle touch. “Then you can get me off,” she says in a deep voice, imitating me. And now she’s laughing again. Maybe she’s drunker than I thought.

  We’re halfway to her house when it starts to rain. We are both soaked and freezing by the time we get there. Lauren opens the garage door and there is just enough room to squeeze the bike in. I hate when my baby gets rained on.

  “Come in,” she says through chattering teeth. “You can hang out until the rain stops.”

  For as long as I’ve known Lauren, walking into her house doesn’t feel strange. What feels strange is taking someone home from the bar and not getting any.

  She’s Colin’s baby sister. I can’t do this.

  Her dogs bark at me, and I almost run back into the rain when a large German Shepherd lunges for me. I’ve actually met the dog before, having gone to a few family get-togethers at the Winters’ house.

  “Hey, Vader,” I say to him.

  He barks and flashes his teeth. “It’s okay,” Lauren says, holding him back. How the hell is she not falling over? That dog has to weigh close to what she does. It takes several minutes of talking to the dog to get him to let me in the house.

  When L
auren lets him go and stands, she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m a bit dizzy.”

  I reach out, steadying her. “How about you take those heels off?”

  “Good idea.” She kicks them off and disappears into her room, returning in a minute in her pajamas. “I don’t have any guy clothes for you to wear.”

  I take off my jacket and peel my wet black T-shirt over my head. “Do you have a dryer?”

  Her eyes widen when I undo my belt and pull down the zipper of my jeans. “I … uhh … I.” She blinks a few times. “Yes. I do.” She holds out her hand for my wet clothes, shaking her head as she walks away. I smirk, somewhat surprised I got that kind of reaction out of her.

  Fuck. Stop it. I can’t. She’s off-limits. My best friend’s sister.

  I follow her as she walks through the living room and into the kitchen, disappearing into the laundry room. I open the fridge and look for something to eat. I’m hungry, and Lauren probably is too. Her fridge is full, but it’s all ingredients, all healthy stuff. I don’t want to make anything. I close the fridge and open the freezer.

  There is one frozen pizza, buried underneath more healthy crap … and a bottle of tequila. I pull it out, grinning.

  “For someone who claims not to drink,” I start when she comes back into the kitchen. “This is an awfully big bottle of booze.”

  She waves her hand in the air. “I didn’t say I don’t drink, I just don’t like the way alcohol tastes. And it’s from a sex toy party. Months ago.”

  My eyebrows go up. “You had a sex toy party?”

  “Yeah, why is that so surprising.”

  I step back and let the freezer door close. “You just don’t seem like the type who would.”

  “You’re typing me?”

  “It’s hard not to, after knowing you for so long.”

  She crosses the kitchen and leans against the counter next to me. Her arms cross and she tips her head. “So, tell me what type I am.”

  I give her a good look over. Her wet hair is brushed and pulled into a ponytail. She removed her rain-smeared makeup and is comfortably dressed in a tank top and pajama pants … which I think are patterned with Disney princesses. She took off her bra and I can just make out the outline of her nipples.

  No, stop it. Off-limits, remember?

  “You’re a bit uptight. Maybe a little prude-ish. Definitely not the type who’d have sex toy parties … or even buy sex toys. You don’t like to get in trouble or do anything you think is wrong. And really, that means what you think others think.” I set the bottle of tequila down. “Actually, that’s your whole issue.”

  “Oh, I have issues now?”

  I nod. “Yeah. You’re so worried about what other people think of you, you forget to live your own life.”

  Her eyes narrow. “My own life is fine, thank you very much. I’m happy, I work hard, and I’m headed in the right direction.”

  “And you give that answer to everyone, right? You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know.”

  She gives me a what-the-fuck-are-you-smoking look, then laughs. “I’m far from perfect. I’d think you of all people would know that.”

  She’s perfect to me.

  “Yeah, you’re right. You’re not that great.” I shrug and put my hand on the fridge. “Got anything good to eat?”

  “You’re not that great either,” she snaps. “And yes, I do. What do you want?” Her tone hasn’t changed and I’m not sure if she’s serious. Then she steps in close. “Is a sandwich okay?”

  Well, I guess she is. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  I sit at a table under a window, watching the rain come down while Lauren pulls out what she needs to make us both sandwiches. Suddenly, she turns to me.

  “I’m not a prude. And I do have sex toys. That I use. And enjoy.”

  I try not to think about that, try to keep the image of her pleasuring herself out of my head.

  I fail.

  “And there is nothing wrong with being good and staying out of trouble. Maybe your issue is seeing others not fuck up their lives make you feel guilty.”

  I slowly shake my head. “Nope. No guilt. I do what I want and don’t care what others think. I’m just as happy as you are.”

  “I don’t care what others think either. And that’s good for you,” she says and puts four pieces of bread on the counter with more force than necessary. I watch her open a bag of lunch meat and cheese, all the while glaring at the food. “And I’m not a prude!” she finally exclaims. “I can have fun. I can be spontaneous. Wild, even.”

  “Uh-huh, sure you can.” Pushing her buttons is pushing mine. I need to stop.

  She glares at me then snatches the bottle of tequila from the counter, gets two shot glasses, and fills them both. She puts one in front of me and holds hers up.

  “See?” she says after she takes it.

  “That doesn’t make you wild.”

  She takes another shot. “Whatever.”

  I smile when she turns her back, drinking my shot slowly. Nothing is said while she finishes making our food. She comes to the table with both plates, and the bottle of tequila. She takes another shot.

  “You might want to slow down,” I warn her. She ignores me. I eat half the sandwich before speaking again. “Thanks. For this and for letting me wait out the rain.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says and her words slur. In a few minutes, that last shot will hit her and she’ll be fucked. Then I’m tucking her into bed and parking my ass on the couch until morning. “I wouldn’t make you ride in the rain. Seems dangerous.”

  “Nah, I’d be fine.” I take another bite, chew, and swallow. “So being called a prude really does bother you?”

  “It’s an insult,” she says. “And is kind of sexist. I’m a prude for not sleeping around. But I’m a slut if I do sleep around. I just can’t win.”

  “I prefer sluts over prudes.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “You’re a pig.”

  “I just know what I like.”

  She shakes her head. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

  “I’m not much older than you.”

  “I’m twenty-two and think I’m too old for that. We’re not in college anymore. The time for partying is over.”

  “Hence why you’re a prude.”

  “And hence why you’re a dick.”

  I laugh. She gets a bit of a devilish glint in her eyes when she’s pissed off. It’s sexy as hell.

  “Well this dick gets a lot, lives it up, and has fun. I enjoy life, not resent it.”

  “I don’t resent life, not at all.”

  “I live every day like it could be my last. Enjoy every second I have. I don’t waste time worrying over unimportant details.”

  She looks up, face softening. “There’s a right and wrong way to do that.”

  “How the hell is there a wrong way to live each day like it’s your last?”

  “Because tomorrow probably isn’t going to be your last. Yes, enjoy it metaphorically, but be responsible.”

  I shake my head. “Prude.”

  “Asshole.”

  I lean forward over the table and take her hand in mine, slowly running my fingers up the soft flesh on her wrist. She shivers and licks her lips. “Why haven’t we ever hooked up?”

  She yanks her arm back. “Because you repulse me.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  She closes her eyes in a long blink and takes another shot. “Better start believing. I know your habits. I know your ethics. I know you, Noah.”

  Her words sting, as much as I hate admitting it to myself. I don’t give a shit what other think about me, but Lauren is something else. Someone else, and I can’t deny the feelings I’ve had for her since we were teenagers. If I sought anyone’s approval, it was hers.

  I slide the bottle of tequila over and take another shot. I need it right now. “Maybe you’re wrong about me,” I say quietly.

  “Hah, I’ll believe it whe
n I see it.” She stands only to sit back down. “I think I drank too much.”

  I chuckle. “No shit.”

  She glares at me for the millionth time tonight. “Walk me to the couch?” I take her hand and help her. She sinks onto the cushions and takes a breath. “I feel better. Thanks.”

  Thunder rolls overhead. Vader jumps onto the couch, burying his head between the cushions. “He’s afraid of thunder?”

  “Terrified,” she slurs and bends over to hug him. “But he’ll be fine.”

  I pet him. “It’s okay, big guy,” I say softly.

  Lauren watches me. “I didn’t know you liked dogs.”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Lauren.” I look up, eyes meeting hers when I say her name.

  She parts her lips, inhales, then looks down. “Tell me.”

  “Fine,” I say, and really, I’d love to sit down and talk to Lauren. I trust her. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. I’ve never just opened up before, not to the counselor I was forced to see after my parents’ divorce, or the many parole officers I had after getting out of juvie. I’ve never opened up to anyone before. I can’t do it. I need something else, some sort of excuse to sit here and pour my fucking heart out. “But let’s make it a game.”

  “What kind of a game?”

  I stand, going to get the bottle of tequila. “Have you ever heard of Never Have I Ever?”

  “I have, and I’ve played it before.”

  “Then this will be easy. Just, uh, take half shots or sips or something. I don’t want to clean vomit tonight.”

  “I won’t throw up, but fine.”

  I’m glad she’s an agreeable drunk. People seem to fall on either side of the spectrum and it’s either irritating as fuck or amusing. I fill the shot glasses. “This isn’t going to really work with just two people, you know.”

  She shrugs. “We’ll make it work. Say something you’ve never done. Then I’ll say the same.”

  “Okay. Want to go first?”

  “I’ve never had a one-night stand,” she says. I take my shot. “Knew it.”

  I refill the glass.

  “I’ve dated more than one person at the same time,” she says.

  “You don’t get to go twice in a row.”

  “Yes, I do. I got the last question right.”