My apartment wasn’t in the safest part of town, but I’d lived in worse when I was in foster care, so I didn’t think about it too much. The paint-chipped stairwells with loose railings and creaky steps were in a secure building, which meant that I only had to deal with the few losers who lived inside the building itself—a small trade-off to be able to live in an apartment larger than a closet. After student loan payments, a closet was about all I’d be able to afford in a nicer part of town.
Still, I sometimes got creeped out at night when I walked through the dimly lit halls alone. Tonight was one of those times. I rushed up the stairs to my door and scrambled to get the key into the lock.
“Hey, MacKenzie.”
I jumped but instantly recognized the raspy voice of Soni, the older lady who lived one door down.
“Hey, Soni,” I said.
“Early night again?” she asked through the small crack in her door.
“Yeah,” I said. “’Night.”
Inside my apartment, I kicked off my heels and flopped down on the couch. Soni’s words rang in my ears. Early night again?
What the hell did it say about me when an old woman thought I was having an early night? But she was right; I used to go out every night and stay out late. If it wasn’t an all-nighter at the hospital, it was an all-nighter at the club. Lately I’d been feeling like I wanted more. As if maybe I could find someone more permanent in my life.
Could Chris be that person? Not if I didn’t figure out how to pull it together.
And I really needed to pull it together.
Except that I couldn’t. I’d always been a bit of a wild girl, never been able to grasp the whole get-married-and-have-a-baby thing.
I blamed it on my upbringing. I’d lived in no fewer than twenty different foster homes as a kid. None of them were as crazy as the ones you read about in books. I knew I was lucky; I’d never been sexually abused, and was only hit once by a foster dad, from whose care I was promptly removed. But none of the families I stayed with ever connected with me emotionally or had time for me, so I got used to being alone.
When I started dating, I never figured out how to stay with one guy for long. A quick night or two of fun, then run before they had a chance to hurt me. That was my MO. But something about that night with Ian—I wasn’t sure exactly what, but something changed.
The night was supposed to be about Alexa and Cade. Alexa had dubbed it their coming-out party. I’d known they were going to end up together from the start. Or I was pretty sure anyway.
For me, the night was less about them and more about Cade’s hot cage-fighter friend, Ian. Alexa was sure I’d seen him before, but I knew I’d remember meeting someone that delish. By the way I caught him looking at me, I’d known the night had the potential to be one neither of us would forget.
And it was. I still remembered it like it was yesterday, though the memory was tinged with a mixture of sadness and longing.
I fell asleep thinking about it…
• • •
Ian had crowded in next to me in the booth. The club had been loud, so we’d sat close in order to hear each other over the music.
“So, are you a porn star too?” I had asked. Cade had only ever done two movies, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.
Ian choked on his drink, roughly swallowing the gulp. “Um, no.”
“Don’t have the balls for it, huh?” I teased, fighting off a smile.
His eyes narrowed on mine, and his mouth lifted in a playful smirk. “My package is more than adequate, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I licked my lips and leaned closer. “Then what are you afraid of? I heard the money’s great.” Something in me liked teasing him; he seemed too in control, too domineering, and I wanted to ruffle his feathers.
“I guarantee I’d outlast and out measure every man on that porn set. I don’t because I choose not to.”
I dropped my head back, laughing. “Sure, sure.”
Ian pressed closer, aligning his face with mine so he could peer straight into my eyes as he spoke. “Some things are private. And my cock is reserved for my wife.”
“You’re married?” My gaze dropped to recheck his left hand, which I already knew was ringless.
“My future wife,” he clarified.
How noble of him. “Wait. Do you mean you’re saving yourself for marriage?”
He shook his head. “I’m no virgin, but I’m sure my future bride wouldn’t like knowing I’d fucked everything from here to New York, and filmed it. You know?”
I nodded, suddenly losing my playful edge. He was right. And he was sweet. I wasn’t expecting that.
We spent the next two hours talking and laughing, the topics ranging from innocuous things like our favorite pizza toppings, to more serious subjects like how many children we wanted to have. He wanted two; I was undecided.
His eyes flashed his confusion, but before I had time to explain about my foster-care upbringing and my reluctance to bring kids into a less-than-perfect situation, Alexa leaned over from across the table. “Dance with me, Kenzie.”
“Sure,” I said and turned to Ian. “Join us?”
He looked over to Cade, who was comfortable where he was in the booth. Ian and I might have just met, but we both knew Cade didn’t like to dance.
“I’ll sit this one out.” Ian’s eyes were on mine, and I got the impression he was fighting an urge to come dance with me.
I hated to leave him there. Our connection, even though it was only hours old, had been so much deeper than I had ever felt before. But Lexa was dying to dance, so I got up.
Ian moved back and I slipped out past him. For a moment, my breasts were almost in his face, and yet he didn’t break eye contact with me. A warm ripple of pleasure shot through me.
The music was so loud, my entire body buzzed with every thump of the bass. Out on the dance floor with Alexa, I swayed my hips, letting the music guide me. God, I loved to dance. I lost myself completely in the music until I wasn’t moving to the song anymore, the song was moving me.
I was so lost in it that I hardly noticed when someone came up behind me and started grinding with me. I turned to see who it was, expecting it to be Alexa, but it was some drunk kid just messing around. I laughed and shrugged, dancing with him. The kid was all wiry and bony, definitely not my type. But I was all about having a good time, and just because I danced with him didn’t mean I had to go home with him.
But then he grabbed my ass, and before I had the chance to tell him to stop, Ian materialized and pulled him away. They faced off in front of me, barely a foot apart. Ian was taller than my dance partner, with five times the muscle, but he was also the cooler of the two. His body was tense, but his eyes maintained their usual calm and cool control.
The drunk guy lunged at Ian, which made me chuckle until I realized that Ian could probably kill him without breaking a sweat.
Ian grabbed the guy’s hand in one of his own, twisting it so the guy was forced to bend over or break his wrist. Meanwhile, Ian had hardly moved, his face still calm and collected. Then Ian bent down to the guy’s ear and said a few things I couldn’t hear. The man nodded, Ian released him, and he staggered away, hugging his wrist to his body.
When Ian turned back to me, his jaw was tense and his nostrils flared. His gaze penetrated me in ways that made my body burn. Knowing he’d just stood up for me lit some fire inside me. As far as I was concerned, that was the hottest thing a man could do, mental foreplay in my book.
I moved toward him, needing to be closer. Ian didn’t break eye contact as he pulled me into his arms and pressed our bodies together, making my pulse spike. His body was so amazingly rock hard, and yet perfectly shaped for me to fit against him.
The next song was slower, and we adjusted our hips and moved to the music. I brought my arms up around his neck, and he lifted me up so that our faces were inches apart. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Ian held me to him, looking into my eyes for a long moment.
When he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, I was so glad he was already holding me up, because my body went completely limp. His lips were tender even as he took control of the kiss, first nipping playfully at my lips, but then opening my mouth with his and moving his tongue against mine.
His arms moved from my waist down to my hips, and then his hands cupped my ass as he pressed me to him. I gasped. His rock-hard cock pressed against my center. The only barriers between us were his jeans and my wet panties. I squeezed my legs around him and pressed against him harder, wondering if it was possible to break him in half with my legs. As an extreme fighter, I was pretty sure he’d survive, although if I didn’t have him soon, I thought I might die.
Ian’s eyes met mine as the club around us faded into the background. Nothing else existed but the raw need inside me. With his gaze firmly locked onto mine, he read every thought buzzing through my brain, and the dark, hungry look in his eyes told me we were on the same page. He’d been so easy to talk to, so open, and made me feel at ease. And now he was pressing close to me, letting me feel every hard inch of him. I wanted more.
I didn’t know how we got to his car, but damn, I had been so happy when I saw it that I’d flipping squealed. He had dug his keys out of his pocket and opened the back door, guiding me into the backseat…
• • •
I woke up with a gasp, my breath coming in pants. I dreamed about that night often, and the throbbing ache between my legs needed to be taken care of.
Now.
I had a vibrator, but knew from experience that after waking up from one of these dreams, I hardly had to touch myself, I was already so close to the edge. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes again and imagined what it would have been like if Ian had followed me into the backseat of his car and closed the door, if he had pulled me forward and spread my legs.
My finger circled between my thighs, and I imagined Ian’s smoldering eyes locked on mine as he ripped off my wet panties. Frantic, I’d hurry to open the front of his jeans. He’d pull his pants down just enough to free his cock, which I knew would be huge and hard. He’d slide a finger inside me, and when he felt how hot and ready I was, he’d climb over me and thrust into me so hard I’d cry out and come apart instantly.
He’d hold himself still as the wave of spasms rocked through my body and then slowed. Then he’d slowly pull out and push inside me again, and as he increased his pace, he’d wrap his arms around me, pulling me close and holding me tight.
I’d shiver from the sheer pleasure of it, and run my hands over his rock-hard back muscles up to his shoulders as he moved faster, pushing harder and harder. Then he’d slip his hand down and lightly press a thumb on my throbbing clit. My nails would dig into his back as I came apart again, crying his name.
A real orgasm tore through me at that point, just like it always did. As I came down from my self-induced, Ian-inspired release, I was again reminded of how that night had actually ended…
• • •
That night we’d kissed frantically on the dance floor, and he’d carried me out to his car as we pressed together in heated passion.
But when he guided me into the backseat, he didn’t follow me as he should have. Instead, he promptly backed away from the car with a tight look on his face that I couldn’t quite read. Then he closed the door, leaving me more alone than I had felt in a long time.
I was hurt at first, but then I got angry, like terror-alert-level-orange angry. Was I not good enough for him? I fumbled with the door handle until I opened it and got out.
“What the hell?” I snapped.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he shook his head and ran a hand over his hair. “I just can’t do this.”
“Why not? There aren’t any cameras here. This isn’t an adult movie shoot that your ‘future wife’ might see, so what’s the problem?”
“Get in the car. I’ll take you home.” His expression shuttered and I could no longer read his face, as if he’d cut me off not just physically, but emotionally.
“What the hell was that?” I said. “I thought we were going to have some fun. What happened?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Nothing, I just shouldn’t have started this in the first place. I don’t have time for this right now, I have a fight in two days. I need to stay focused.” He wouldn’t look me in the eyes anymore.
Did he just say he didn’t have time for this? For me? Familiar negative emotions came roaring back before I could stop them. I felt like I’d been punched.
I was used to this by now, to people not having time for me. I’d been dealing with this all my life. But for some reason, hearing it from Ian hurt more than it had in a long time. I thought we’d made a real connection. He’d come to my rescue on the dance floor and had been sweet and easy to talk to.
Stunned, I’d realized that despite my checkered past, I’d never felt quite so rejected before. So I’d dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands, but the pain couldn’t stop the stupid tears.
Without another word, I had rushed to a nearby taxi stand, got in the back of the first one, and slammed the door.