Hard Beat

“In your dreams. You didn’t answer the first question, so if I have to drink, then you have to too! Your call or your turn.”

I just narrow my eyes and hold her stare, weighing my options and the shot ratio between us. “Rule breaker.”

“Sometimes it’s worth the risk,” she says, the air electrifying with sexual tension. The silence stretches between us, her eyes darting down to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Your turn,” she whispers.

My body suddenly becomes very attuned to the proximity of hers along with that addictive scent of her perfume that calls on my libido. The memory of her lying out on my bed before me, tits jostling as we co

“I’ll stop you right there and just save myself the embarrassment of answering whatever your question is.” She takes the shot, and my mind spins with the possibilities of what she thought I was going to ask her. Over what question was so bad that she wants to avoid it.

If this shit keeps up, I have a feeling I’m going to be carrying her down to her room, because she won’t be walking.

She shakes her head subtly to try and clear the alcohol that I’m sure is starting to warm her up some. “Why do you blame yourself for Stella’s death?”

Her question smothers the air around me. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times but one no one has said aloud before. And now that it’s out there, hanging like a flag in the breeze, I hear the ludicrousness in it… but I still don’t want to answer it.

“In case you missed it the first time you asked, what happened to Stella’s off-limits.” The steel in my voice is hard to miss. “Ask again.”

I hear the stutter in her breath as she exhales into the silence. “Why were you being so nice to me today? I mean… why’d you take me to the range?”

“Because regardless of what you think, chivalry isn’t dead, and I look out for those who are with me. Besides, that ass of yours is too fine to see something happen to it.”

I hear her breath catch again, and a riotous ache settles deep down inside me at knowing that a simple comment like that affects her so easily. And I don’t want to feel like this or to know my simple remark has that effect on her, so I stumble along to find a new question for her.

“Where are you from? What’s your story?”

“Ha! That’s two questions. Drink up, baby!” she shouts into the night as I cringe, realizing my mistake the minute the second question was out of my mouth. Beaux pours a shot of liquid and hands it over. I toss back the drink, and she immediately takes the glass from me and pours one for herself. This time she hisses when she downs it.

“Wait, you’re not answering the question?” I’m a little surprised since the question was so i

“And there’s another question!” She laughs. “Before you know it, Ta

“I see how you are. Trying to win this little game by default.” I laugh. And it feels so good to laugh after all of the shit over the past few months. It feels even better to have someone next to me even if I’m not supposed to like her. When she reaches for the bottle and I shift it away from her at the same time so that she falls partially on top of me, it jolts me back to reality.

And makes me so very conscious of the heat of her body against mine, the scent of her shampoo as she moves her hair out of her face and angles her face up to meet my eyes. Her breath hitches and fingers grip tighter over mine on the neck of the bottle at our sides. Everything about her is like a high-definition television all of a sudden, so damn perfect you want to touch but know it’s not real.

“Your turn,” she murmurs, her whiskey-scented breath feathering over my lips. “Why’d you kiss me today?”

I stare at her, my free hand itching to touch her, drag her beneath me, and lose myself in every goddamn contradiction she has to offer – but I know that would only complicate things even further. But it seems that lately everything about my life has become complicated… so why should I care if I add one more thing to the mix?

“I think the question you should ask yourself is why did I stop?”

Her hand moves up the plane of my chest, teasing me with an u

“You stopped because you hate how I make you feel. You tell me you don’t like me, but I’m pretty sure what is pressing against my thigh tells me otherwise.” She leans closer into me, her voice a seduction all in itself. “Admitting it is half the battle,” she whispers before brushing her lips ever so softly against mine.

I don’t respond, my body strung so goddamn tight that when she tries it a second time, my hand fists in her hair to prevent her from doing any further damage.

“I’m trying to do what’s right here, Beaux.” My voice is strained, the pressure of my restraint so obvious that I sound desperate for her.

“Rule breaker.” She chuckles so the warmth of her breath hits mine. “Remember, sometimes what’s right isn’t always what’s needed. Sometimes what’s needed isn’t always what’s wanted. And sometimes you just have to live in the moment, take what’s given, and sort out the consequences later.”

“Fuck the consequences. They’re rarely worth it.”

“I’m worth it.” Her lips brush against mine as she says the words, the whisper of touch almost more intimate than the kiss itself. “Wouldn’t you rather be fucking me than the consequences?”

I clench my jaw as my control slips further. The mixture of her words and her proximity is too much to bear. My hesitation is fleeting before I give in to the desire waging its own war within me.

Within a heartbeat, my lips are on hers, tempting, tasting, seeking the combination of heat, comfort, and need from her all at the same time. Our mouths move slowly at first, asking questions that our words haven’t: What the fuck are we doing? Don’t you want me regardless of the consequences? We don’t like each other, so why are we doing this?

And I really don’t care about the answers to any of them because her soft curves and the enticing heat of her body draw me in and prevent coherence from being a priority. The memory of the feel of her beneath me has me deepening the kiss, taking what I want in the form of tongues melding and teeth nipping. Soft moans fall from our mouths as our hands begin to roam and rediscover each other’s body.

The clink of the bottle hitting the glass when I set it down shakes me from the haze of desire. Reality comes crashing down around me as my thoughts start trying to align despite the sweetest of drugs, lust and alcohol, ru

My dick’s hard in my pants, the taste of her kiss is on my tongue, yet again the niggling idea that she’s playing me hits me hard and causes me to tear my mouth from hers. My hands frame her face, holding tightly as I stare through the moonlit night into her desirous eyes, and our labored breaths reflect the restraint that’s nonexistent between us.

She came to me. She wanted a game. She kissed me first. Fucking déjà vu hits me and won’t let go as much as I want to toss it off the side of the damn building and forget all about it! But I refuse to be the next in her line of men here, refuse to be the pawn in her rigged game of chess when I can’t figure out the endgame.

“I want you,” she murmurs, voice thick with need, eyes coaxing me to believe her as she leans forward and brushes her lips to mine again.