The First Night (The Night Series) Page 3

  The right corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “And then you passed out…again.” The bartender reached by her to the partly eaten stack of pancakes, and with her fork, cut himself off a bite.

  Kayla moved past the embarrassment and found the strength to speak. “I don’t…I’m so sorry.” She dropped her head, face flushed and heated, hands shaking.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice soothing and apologetic. “Are you upset? I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

  “No. I mean, yeah. I am upset but only because I acted that way. I asked you to tell me. It’s my fault.”

  “When I first saw you last night, I never pictured refusing you. Hell, I never imagined you would end up in my apartment. But here you are.”

  Shit! Those are serious words. “Not by choice.” Kayla raised her eyebrows.

  “What else could I do? I don’t know where you live. And you were…look, maybe some of what I said wasn’t true. I didn’t know it would affect you so badly.” He put his head down and looked at her under his lashes. “I’m not sure I could have gotten that lucky. You know, you, tearing off my clothes.”

  Kayla’s face went serious, and she wanted to be angry, but looking at him—remorseful and oh so scorching hot—she did want to tear off his clothes. From the moment she first saw the bartender, there was something about him. Something that entrapped her free will. She found herself drawn to him like nothing she’d experienced before, and the fact he hadn’t taken advantage of her vulnerable state made her want him even more.

  She wasn’t surprised, nor did she attempt to stop her fingers as they inexorably traced the waistline of his pants. He took in a short breath at her touch, and she smiled. His skin felt as good as it looked—velvety, and warm, and wonderful. She looked up at his face. His expression was cryptic and ardent at the same time. She couldn’t turn away.

  What was she doing? She’d never been so forward, at least not with someone she’d just met. It took a mental battle with her hands but she was able to pry her fingers from his skin and drop them, letting her hands dangle limp at her sides.

  She inhaled deeply, her insides shaking. “I think I should go.” Her eyes went over his bare shoulders, strong and tan and smooth. She rethought her statement, knowing she didn’t want to leave, intimidated by, yet craving what might happen if she stayed. “Thanks for breakfast, and…um…by the way, where am I?”

  “I’m thinking, you’re in the exact place you should be.” Holding her gaze, he closed in on the already not-so-spacious gap between them. His heat, his smell…God, his smell, musk and barely-there cinnamon, it was dizzying. Her determination to leave moments ago became imperceptible, and her mind was left with nothing but thoughts of his hands, his mouth on her body.

  “Leaving would be smart,” she said shakily. His hips, his glorious half-covered hips, grazed against her. She knew how his bare skin felt at the touch of her fingers, a hint of him was still there, and her legs became weak at the thought of him pressed against her. His top half, bare and delicious, hovered mere centimeters away, and his knowing eyes drifted to her lips and held fast.

  “Smart?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last night…getting that drunk...was not smart,” he said, his smile mocking playfully, his hands pressing into the counter top on either side of her.

  She laughed to cover her nervousness, loving the feel of being trapped so close to him, and hating it at the same time. His name, what in the hell is his name? “I was in rare form last night.” Damn tequila!

  “And now?”

  He didn’t give her time to answer as he bent down meeting her mouth. His tongue worked hers, frantic and intense. Her knees, giving out, went into immediate gel-mode. She grabbed the counter’s edge behind her for stability. His fingers wound in her hair, and he wrenched her in, cinching their bodies together. She gasped at his heat.

  Touching him, she knew, would lead to more, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him. But she’d never slept with someone she didn’t know. Since high school graduation, she’d only been in a few relationships, and she hadn’t even slept with all of them.

  What if sex was all she needed? And that’s what this was, right? A guy she had left a bar with? Isn’t this how it happens? She pried her mouth from his, examining his face. His lips were red and wet, his eyes dark, hungry…for her. Kayla’s center tightened and she swallowed hard. Fuck it!

  Her hands went behind his head, pulling him back to her. Oh, please, take me now, her mind silently pleaded.

  As if he were reading her thoughts, in one quick swoop, he leaned past her, swiping everything from the counter. Her plate crashed to the floor, and the sound of shattering ceramic against the stone tile floor reverberated in her ears as he lifted her and sat her on the edge.

  Her eyes went wide, and she gasped, unable to hinder the breath catching in her throat at the feel of his waist between her legs. He moves fast! His eyes narrowed slightly, and he grinned with amusement. She leaned in to kiss him, but he averted her lips and nuzzled her neck, kissing and licking and nibbling her skin. She moaned low, barely audible, tilting her head and giving him more access.

  “Rare form?” he asked into her neck.

  It took a second for his words to register. “You have no idea.” She shivered at the touch of his fingers brushing the skin just beneath her blouse, across her lower back.

  “Rare form is good.” He traced his tongue up her neck, over her chin, and to her lips.

  “Mm.”

  His hands slid around her waist, gripping her sides. His mouth trailed down her chest, nearly to her cleavage and back up, sending a manic current under her skin. She latched her fingers at the nape of his neck, hooking her ankles behind his back at the same time. He tilted his head up and found her mouth. Harried and breathless, he kissed her hard, holding her head, a hand cupping each side of her face, he pressed her to him. Her fingers knotted in his soft, dark hair.

  Slowly, he moved his hands down her neck, to her breasts, pausing for a moment to thumb her taut nipples over her thin, silk blouse. She moaned at his touch and lost her breath when he grabbed her shoulders and separated their bodies to an arm’s length.

  “Do you want this?” he murmured, guttural, mellow, music in her ears. His eyes held hers, burning into her, as his hands pressed against her shoulders, elbows locked.

  She noticed his ragged breath and nodded slowly. “Yes.” At that moment, was there anything else she wanted? She wasn’t sure. She did know she didn’t like the space between them. Her fingers begged to touch him.

  For an instant he froze and just stared at her, as if he were shocked she’d said yes. As the stunned look faded, the right corner of the bartender’s mouth turned up, and he leaned in to kiss her.

  She was powerless against the will of her hands. They explored his naked torso. The hard muscles covered by silken skin tensed and relaxed under her touch, and she shivered. His hands went to her waist and tracked their way to her upper thighs. He squeezed and his thumbs pressed against the middle seam of her jeans, right against her clit.

  A quick yelp escaped Kayla, and she tilted her hips into the pressure.

  The bartender froze. “I can quit,” he whispered, his voice strained. “If you want me to.”

  She shook her head slowly, not wanting him to stop. Not for a second.

  * * * *

  Gannon’s chest was about to explode. Kayla Dobbs was in his kitchen, on his counter, with her legs wrapped around him.

  When he brought her to his apartment and she passed out for the night, he’d carried her limp, drunken body to his bed. He expected her to wake and sneak out, not saying a word to him. So, he didn’t sleep.

  Once he heard the water from his bathroom come on and he knew she was awake, he wanted to tear himself away from the kitchen and go to her, but he resisted.

  As he sat the plate in front of her and felt her closeness, he knew it wasn’t close enough. And when her head signaled for him to continue, all he
wanted was for her to want him forever.

  She spread her legs further, her eyes closed, hips rocking, squirming against his thumb as he swirled slow circles against her clit. He could practically see the wetness though her jeans. He examined the full, pouting lips on her face, soft, naturally red. He grinned, knowing he could stare at her for hours, and bent down, exhaling hot muffled air through the material shielding her from the pleasure he wanted to give her. He nicked at her center with his teeth, pleased at the sound of her whimper, soft and needy.

  Her back arched, and she gasped for air, making his heart thud. Gannon rose from between her legs. Cock twitching and threatening to break free of the thin sleep pants, he nibbled at her skin through her shirt, and up her stomach. As he reached her breasts, her fingers knotted in his hair.

  “More,” she whispered in his ear just before her mouth found his neck. “I want all of you.”

  He moaned at her words, all too willing to give her everything.

  Gannon slid his hands under her ass, lifted her from the bar, and moved to the living room. She tightened her hold for a split second then relaxed, meeting his eyes as he placed her on the sofa, and his heart jerked, something it hadn’t done in years. He stepped back to look at her, desperately wanting to soak in every freckle on her nose, every thread of blue in her eyes, every strand of her dark brown hair, but she clasped his hand and pulled him to her and directed one of his hands between her legs. Her back arched on contact.

  “Please,” she murmured. Her arms were through his, palms flat on his back, and she brought her mouth to his. “Touch me.”

  The feel of her tongue on his skin muddled his thoughts as he fumbled with the button on her jeans. Shit! The urgency to feel her heated, slick center seemed to swell his fingers. When the button finally gave way, he slipped his hand down, under the jeans, under the silken panties, and to her sensitive folds.

  His heart hammered at the touch of her moistness. Kayla undid her zipper, making room for the width of his hand, and he watched her face as he slid two fingers inside. Her eyes rolled back, her plush, red lips parted, and her hands…they ran all over him.

  * * * *

  Fingers…his fingers working her clit, competent, trained, skilled, expert, whatever it was, it equaled mind-blowing. Kayla ached to feel him inside her. She needed it. She needed his cock filling and pounding the hell out of her. The bartender. The hot-as-fire-from-the-sun bartender, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

  She liked the way his skin felt under her touch. It was killing her to not be entirely naked and against him. She hooked her thumbs in the waistline of her jeans and began an attempt to work out of them. Damn tight jeans!

  A deep, throaty growl escaped him. The bartender sat up, breathing heavy, eyes on hers, and in one swift motion, he grabbed her jeans at the ankles and tugged them off. She lost her breath and forced a quick intake of air. His eyes sparked, and in an instant, he was at her mouth again. Propped on his right hand, his left cupped her sex, palming her clit. Holy shit! Her center ached for him, throbbing, swollen, begging for release. She rocked her hips against him. “Please!”

  He smiled, grazed his lips across her neck, and slipped a finger inside her. He pulled it out slowly and back in. A shaky whimper escaped her lips. This is maddening! His mouth trailed lower, over her blouse, to the bare skin just below her navel where he stopped and met her eyes for a split second before going lower, moving her panties to the side.

  His tongue swirled, his teeth…damn…his teeth slightly pinched at her clit. Ah, fuck! The hairs on her arms pricked as little goose bumps formed. He eased another finger in, and she arched her back. Hissing through her teeth, she tangled her fingers in his hair. His tongue found her opening, causing a low moan-whimper-cry sound to leave her body.

  Fingers and tongue. Fingers and tongue. Fingers and tongue. Combined, they worked at her with unrelenting command. She was breathless and dizzy. The room around them became a fog. The trembling…God, the trembling…it formed from somewhere deep within, growing stronger with each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Her hips bucked, no longer able to take more, and she detonated, her walls contracting around his fingers.

  The bartender reached up and lightly kissed her stomach. She felt his lips against her skin turn up into a smile.

  Gannon! His name is Gannon. She wondered if he’d noticed she hadn’t said his name, not once since she first saw him in the kitchen.

  “So, it was good to meet you,” she said, smiling, twitching with an aftershock.

  “I can’t say that I disagree.” He swiped his face with both hands, then pressed them to his legs still covered by gray pajamas, which brought her attention to the mound under his thin pants. She bit on her bottom lip, more than willing to have his dick nudging the back of her throat.

  She took a deep breath, noticing her unsteadiness as she exhaled. “Are you ever going to tell me where I am?”

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  She liked the way his dark, familiar eyes narrowed when he smiled. “Maybe?”

  “Yes, what if you try to escape?”

  “What if I’m not ready?” Kayla raised her eyebrows quizzically and glanced toward his lap. There was no stopping the urge—she reached for his cock. Not like her at all, but hey, she was in “rare form”. Damn, even through his pants she could feel his girth.

  Gannon let out a low moan and grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to.” She tilted her head, confused, trying to catch his gaze. But he didn’t look at her. He stood from the couch and went to the kitchen.

  “It’s getting late, and I have some errands to take care of,” he said, his voice tight. He began picking up the plate and other items he had swooped onto the floor a few moments before.

  Kayla, uncomfortable with his sudden mood change, grabbed her jeans and jerked them on. “You’re right, I need to go.” She cut her eyes at him but it was pointless. He was busy concentrating on the mess on the floor, not looking at her. “Where is my car?”

  “What?” His sharp tone heated her cheeks, and she was having a hard time understanding what exactly happened.

  She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I asked where my car is.”

  “It’s downstairs in the parking lot where you left it,” he said, setting the unbroken dishes in the sink.

  She brushed past him, got her shoes, and rushed to the door, slamming it behind her when she left and hating that she still wanted him after he’d dismissed her.

  “He lives above the bar?” Kayla mumbled to herself as she stomped to her car. “Of course he does. How convenient it must be for him. It makes it much easier to take home drunk chicks.” She climbed into her car and drove out of the parking lot, vowing never to come back.

  * * * *

  “Son of a bitch!” Gannon grabbed a plate from the sink and threw it against the wall. “Why?” His asshole self, the fuck ’em and leave ’em person he was for years, had resurfaced for a few short moments and turned him into the biggest bastard ever. “Shit!” He sent the one woman he wanted fleeing and pissed…pushed her away as if she were one of the others.

  Yeah, he did have an errand, a favor to his uncle, but it wasn’t scheduled until noon. So why in the hell would he send her away two hours before he needed to leave, and like that—cold and abrasive. Damn it!

  He freaked. When she touched his cock, he freaked. Maybe he should have just given her what she wanted.

  No, it wasn’t time.

  He clenched two handfuls of hair and released, throwing his arms to his sides. He ached for her. God, she tasted good, better than he’d imagined. But he didn’t want to just fuck her. He wanted her…all of her.

  But as far as she was concerned, he was just some bartender who had taken her home.

  She needed to know. For it to be right, she needed to know.

  Gannon slouched his shoulders and examined the mess on the floor. He grabbed a broom, cleaned it up, then went to
his bedroom. He looked at the clock. There was plenty of time for an hour nap before he had to shower and get ready for the meeting. He crawled in bed. The scent of her hair lingered on his pillow.

  Chapter 4

  On the way home, Kayla’s headache returned and her mouth went dry. She was certain it was producing powder instead of saliva. Home. She needed to be home. And in her shower. She wanted to wash him off of her as soon as possible. The smell of him on her skin, even after his asshole moment, made her crave him, which pissed her off more.

  She pulled into her driveway mad as hell. How dare he run her off like that! She never asked to go to his house. And she never asked to sleep in his bed. He was the one who cooked and shoved the food in front of her. And she certainly didn’t ask him to take off her pants.

  But he did know how to use his tongue. And until she wanted to please him, he was the sweetest man she’d been around in a long time.

  Kayla went straight to her medicine cabinet and downed a Tylenol and at the same time, she promised herself to never get that drunk again. The hangover was not worth it. Though waking up to a great stack of pancakes and a good finger-fucking might be. She giggled at the thought.

  After her shower, she slipped into an oversized t-shirt and lace panties. She grabbed a home-décor magazine from her nightstand. Not one of the stuffy, informational books she read for class. It was Saturday and she planned for it to be the first Saturday in months that she didn’t study all day. She buried up in the cushions of the plush sofa and began to flip through the pages, but no matter how hard she tried, the abrupt, unexpected harshness Gannon showed after he pleasured her lingered in her mind.

  Giving up, knowing as long as she was awake he would never leave her thoughts, Kayla drifted to sleep.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to join me,” the man said, standing in her shower stroking his thick cock. The steam from the hot water seemed to thicken above his shoulders, keeping his identity concealed. “Take off your clothes and step closer,” he said with a recognizable voice though she couldn’t place it, but found herself not caring at the same time.