Channing could drown his demons in a bottle, why couldn’t I?
Why do I let him get to me?
I squatted over the toilet and considered the question. I’d been prepared for all kinds of scenarios upon walking into his house. Rage, disbelief after seeing the evidence, and even his usual smugness followed by his demands, because even though I held power in my hands, surely something like the threat of jail wouldn’t cause him to back down.
I’d expected a fight, only I’d gotten my first real glimpse of remorse, and it reminded me that underneath all his complexity, Gage was still a man. I finished taking care of business and crashed through the door of the restroom. I’d hit cab status long ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret this foolish indulgence.
“There you are.” Guy pulled my body flush with his, and we fell against the wall outside the restrooms. His mouth and hands were everywhere, and my first instinct was to push him away . . . until I realized that I needed to know. I needed to know if someone else could spark the same all-consuming feelings in me as Gage. I pulled him closer and gripped his hair, wrapped my leg around his calf, and rubbed against the bulge in his pants. His mouth plundered mine, slick and wet and all wrong, and his body moved against me, too rough and too fast.
I shoved him away. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.”
I jerked my face away as he descended again, and he slobbered on my cheek. Lifting my knee, I blindly aimed for where I knew it’d hurt most. I must have found my target, because he struggled for air. I slipped from his grasp, and his voice sounded odd as he called after me. I ignored him. In fact, I ignored everyone. Keeping my head bowed, I headed for the exit. He didn’t follow. Maybe he figured I wasn’t worth the trouble. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t worth anything. Not after what Gage had turned me into.
His whore.
Icy air hit me as I stumbled from the bar, though it was exquisite relief to my flushed cheeks. The sidewalk spun, and the brick wall of the bar blurred in my peripheral vision, as if I’d entered a funhouse . . . except the word “fun” didn’t exist in this carnival. I fell into the wall and pounded my fists against the rough texture of the brick. Who was Gage, that he could propel me to hit bottom like this? The pain in my knuckles failed to register, and that was my problem; I was attracted to things that hurt me, even now in the way I chose to unleash my anger. Finally spent, I slumped to the ass-numbing concrete and pulled out my cell. He was the last person I wanted to face . . . and the one I needed to.
He’d come; I knew he would.
Ian pulled up twenty minutes later and hurried to where I sat on the deserted sidewalk. “Are you okay?” He helped me to my feet, and his gaze fell to my hands. “What happened?”
“I’m drunk.”
“I can see that.”
“The wall pissed me off.”
“You really did a number on your hands.” He put his arm around me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I tripped over my feet and grasped his jacket. “I don’t wanna go home.” My empty apartment was the last place I wanted to go. “Take me home with you.”
“Kayla . . .” His voice dropped in warning. “You need to sleep it off.” He opened the passenger door of his SUV.
“I need you.” He moved to shut the door, but I grabbed his hand and laced our fingers together. “Make me feel something.”
“Not while you’re drunk.” He extracted his fingers from mine, and the door slammed with an echo of finality. I settled into the seat with a sigh as he rounded the vehicle.
“I went to see him,” I said as he slid in beside me.
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t go alone.”
“No, you told me not to go alone.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was drunk.”
“That seems to be a theme tonight.” He ran a hand through his short, brown hair. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“He kissed
Why do I let him get to me?
I squatted over the toilet and considered the question. I’d been prepared for all kinds of scenarios upon walking into his house. Rage, disbelief after seeing the evidence, and even his usual smugness followed by his demands, because even though I held power in my hands, surely something like the threat of jail wouldn’t cause him to back down.
I’d expected a fight, only I’d gotten my first real glimpse of remorse, and it reminded me that underneath all his complexity, Gage was still a man. I finished taking care of business and crashed through the door of the restroom. I’d hit cab status long ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret this foolish indulgence.
“There you are.” Guy pulled my body flush with his, and we fell against the wall outside the restrooms. His mouth and hands were everywhere, and my first instinct was to push him away . . . until I realized that I needed to know. I needed to know if someone else could spark the same all-consuming feelings in me as Gage. I pulled him closer and gripped his hair, wrapped my leg around his calf, and rubbed against the bulge in his pants. His mouth plundered mine, slick and wet and all wrong, and his body moved against me, too rough and too fast.
I shoved him away. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.”
I jerked my face away as he descended again, and he slobbered on my cheek. Lifting my knee, I blindly aimed for where I knew it’d hurt most. I must have found my target, because he struggled for air. I slipped from his grasp, and his voice sounded odd as he called after me. I ignored him. In fact, I ignored everyone. Keeping my head bowed, I headed for the exit. He didn’t follow. Maybe he figured I wasn’t worth the trouble. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t worth anything. Not after what Gage had turned me into.
His whore.
Icy air hit me as I stumbled from the bar, though it was exquisite relief to my flushed cheeks. The sidewalk spun, and the brick wall of the bar blurred in my peripheral vision, as if I’d entered a funhouse . . . except the word “fun” didn’t exist in this carnival. I fell into the wall and pounded my fists against the rough texture of the brick. Who was Gage, that he could propel me to hit bottom like this? The pain in my knuckles failed to register, and that was my problem; I was attracted to things that hurt me, even now in the way I chose to unleash my anger. Finally spent, I slumped to the ass-numbing concrete and pulled out my cell. He was the last person I wanted to face . . . and the one I needed to.
He’d come; I knew he would.
Ian pulled up twenty minutes later and hurried to where I sat on the deserted sidewalk. “Are you okay?” He helped me to my feet, and his gaze fell to my hands. “What happened?”
“I’m drunk.”
“I can see that.”
“The wall pissed me off.”
“You really did a number on your hands.” He put his arm around me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I tripped over my feet and grasped his jacket. “I don’t wanna go home.” My empty apartment was the last place I wanted to go. “Take me home with you.”
“Kayla . . .” His voice dropped in warning. “You need to sleep it off.” He opened the passenger door of his SUV.
“I need you.” He moved to shut the door, but I grabbed his hand and laced our fingers together. “Make me feel something.”
“Not while you’re drunk.” He extracted his fingers from mine, and the door slammed with an echo of finality. I settled into the seat with a sigh as he rounded the vehicle.
“I went to see him,” I said as he slid in beside me.
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t go alone.”
“No, you told me not to go alone.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was drunk.”
“That seems to be a theme tonight.” He ran a hand through his short, brown hair. “Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“He kissed
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