First Chance Book 4

Gage

Liam, Layla, Zepp, Jason, and I choose to spend our evening in a shabby bar where Layla works. I’m here because it’s been weeks since I’ve had any action.

Living with Ryan and Natalie has its downsides, but so far, the good outweighs the bad. Out of respect for them and their home, I wouldn’t dream of bringing a random girl there.

Right now, relationships are off the table.

Ryan is a master at juggling tasks. He can run circles around me. He’ll have no problem touring and taking care of his soon-to-be wife and newborn child.

I don’t have that kind of talent, nor do I have the time. I like my sleep and my freedom. Women either want all my free time or a credit card with no limit.

Usually, it’s the latter, and neither of which I’m willing to give to just anyone.

If you’re family, I’ll do whatever I can or need to—no questions asked.

A one-night stand groupie, however, will leave with empty pockets, an empty heart, and a head full of memories.

That’s all I’m willing to give.

We spend an hour or so downing shots before Liam and Layla sneak off to the dance floor.

Those two are either in denial or clueless about how attracted they are to each other. I can’t wait to see how this unfolds.

While they’re dancing, I scan the other party-goers who are also indulging in a night of drunkenness. I spot a curvy blonde beauty chatting with what I assume are her friends.

I quickly decide that she could be tonight’s catch. But to confirm it, I need to get closer. To make sure she isn’t a crazy ass.

I don’t need another stalker from the past, nor do I need a woman who wants to sink her claws into me just because I’m rich. Most women are liars and only out for themselves.

I’ve made mistakes in the past, mistakes I’m now more careful not to repeat.

After she downs a few shots, I see her push her way into the crowd on the dance floor, her two friends trailing behind her. I need to get closer.

When I find her on the dance floor, she’s flanked by the two girls who followed her. I decide that taking the direct approach will get her attention.

I grab her hand and press it to her stomach, pulling her back against my chest. “Hey babe, you want to dance?” I ask her, even though I’ve already started moving my hips.

“Seems like you don’t care about my answer,” she shoots back.

A feisty one, she’s going to be.

I feign a sympathetic tone, “Oh, don’t be like that. Of course, I care.”

Apparently, she doesn’t like my response because she pushes my hand away and continues dancing with her friends.

Tonight might be more challenging than I thought.

I return to our small table hidden in the shadows of the bar. Jason and Zepp are still seated, finishing their drinks.

“She wasn’t impressed with you, was she?” Jason teases, poking at my already inflated ego, even if it is rightfully so.

Jason starts laughing. And the taunting begins.

“Fuck you guys. She was feeling it, she just enjoys the chase, that’s all.” I reply confidently.

The waitress comes back shortly after, asking if we’d like to order. The guys order some fruity drink that Layla introduced them to, I order a couple of shots of vodka.

I down them as I watch the stranger from the dance floor. She’s back at the bar with her friends. She doesn’t look happy; her eyebrows are furrowed and her face is set in a grimace.

I could be a gentleman and rescue her, but will she accept it?

“Good luck,” Zepp says as I leave the table.

“There you are, you ran away from me. If you wanted a drink, all you had to do was ask. No need to be so rude.” I say, laughing to ease the tension.

“Gage Rykers?” She asks.

Fuck. I would have preferred to spend the night pretending to be a Mike than have her know my real identity.

“Here I was thinking the beanie would disguise me and no one would recognize me. What are you drinking? Want another one?” I quickly say, trying to change the subject.

She may know my name and my profession. But she doesn’t know me. If she did, she’d be running.

Her face freezes in shock for a moment before she recovers. “Sure. Malibu with pineapple juice.”

I lean over the bar, extending my hand so the bartender can see me. I order a drink, and as soon as it’s placed in front of me, I down it.

Please, God, don’t let this be a nutcase hiding in a gorgeous body.

There’s only one way to find out. If she’s more than a little crazy, she’ll show it on the dance floor.

Now that she knows who I am, a crazy girl wouldn’t want to hide me; she’d want to flaunt me like an accessory.

“Dance with me.”

She finishes her drink and puts it back on the bar. “Okay.”

I pull her onto the floor and start spinning her around; she laughs. Her laughter is pure and innocent. No signs of crazy yet.

I step to the side, then back, and slide my other foot, moving out of rhythm like a two-step dance. She laughs even harder at this.

I spin her body into mine; her twist stops when our faces are level with each other’s. She pauses, her doubts and insecurities playing out on her face.

She’s overthinking this.

She slowly pulls away, uncomfortable. I stop her from running away.

“It’s just dancing.”

“It’s not just dancing, and you know it.” She says, pulling away from me completely.

I find myself drawn to her, unable to resist following her off the dance floor. It’s been a while since I’ve met someone who doesn’t fall for my charm so easily, someone who isn’t afraid to say no.

Not that I’d push her if she did say no. I’m not about forcing anyone into anything they don’t want.

If she’s truly uncomfortable with me, or who I am, I’ll back off.

Women value honesty, and I get the feeling that this woman isn’t going to be swayed by a charming smile and a cheesy pick-up line. She’s going to want straight talk. No sugarcoating.

She’s sitting at the bar when I approach her.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not just about dancing. You’re not the first woman I’ve been attracted to and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” She flinches.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but it is what it is. I don’t believe in leading anyone on. I don’t usually proposition women, so bear with me if it’s a bit rough around the edges.

“You and me; one night of fun, no strings attached, no empty promises, and a friendly goodbye in the morning. What do you say?” I lay it all out there for her.

She doesn’t respond for a while, clearly overthinking the situation. She’s nervous, but I know she feels the sexual tension as strongly as I do.

“Okay.”

“What?” I ask, thinking I must have misheard her.

“Let’s get out of here.” She confirms that it was indeed her who agreed.

“I need to let the guys know I’m leaving. Want to come with me?” I ask her, trying to sound casual.

There’s no need to let her see how surprised I am that she actually said yes. Most women would probably be offended by the mere fact that I said they wouldn’t be the last.

But not her. She’s different.

“Sure.” She agrees to accompany me to the secluded table where I can let the guys know I’m leaving.

I can tell she’s nervous about meeting the guys, so I decide to make it quick.

Jason is the first to talk to her, offering her a drink. She accepts. I notice that two of her friends from the bar are sitting between Jason and Zepp.

The one who upset her earlier starts in on her the moment Jason orders the drinks.

I overhear her asking about her going home with me, to which she responds sarcastically. Then she asks if I’m ready to leave.

I start to say goodbye to the guys, but Liam and Layla approach the table. It’s not until she introduces herself to Layla that I realize I forgot to ask her name.

Abigail. It suits her.

She’s a stunning beauty with golden hair and curves in all the right places. Her eyes are the color of the ocean, a deep, mysterious blue, and her plump pink lips curve into a smile that reveals adorable dimples.

I feel myself start to harden as I stare at her mouth, imagining what could happen between us. Not wanting anyone to notice my arousal, I quickly interrupt.

“Abby and I are heading out, I just came over to let you guys know. You good?” I ask Liam, silently pleading with him to just say yes.

The last time he messed with me, my night ended with me alone in bed.

“Yeah, get out of here. Call me if you need a ride in the morning,” Liam replies.

I turn my back to Liam and pull Abigail close to my side. “Ready, babe?” I whisper in her ear, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin.

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice shaky.

She shouts a goodbye to her friends, promising to see them in the morning, before we make our way out of the bar. A cab is waiting near the curb, so I guide her towards it, asking if a hotel is okay.

She says it is, so I give the driver directions to a nice hotel nearby as I climb into the cab.

A few minutes later, the driver pulls up to the hotel entrance. I hand him a fifty and get out of the cab, helping her out after me.

“I’ll wait out here while you get a key,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

She’s nervous. “You’re not going to run, are you?” I ask, wanting to make sure that if I leave her alone, she won’t just disappear.

If she decides to go home instead of to the hotel with me, I’d rather know she made it home safely than worry about where she might have gone.

“I promise, I’ll be waiting right here.”

That’s good enough for me. I enter the hotel, the same one we stayed at last year when we were in Boston.

The same hotel we stayed at when we performed at Natalie and Layla’s college. Memories, they’re always there.

I approach the front desk and ask for the best non-suite room they have. The clerk suggests a room with a Jacuzzi tub, and I can’t resist.

The thought of seeing Abigail naked in that tub, of making love to her in it, is too enticing. I hand over my credit card, sign a paper, and walk away with the key.

True to her word, she’s waiting for me on the hotel sidewalk. She still seems nervous, so I decide to give her another chance to back out.

“Are you sure you want to do this? If you don’t, I can get a cab to take you home.”

“I do want to do this, I’m just nervous because I don’t usually meet men and agree to a one-night stand.”

I can’t help but smile at her honesty. It’s oddly comforting to know that she’s not the typical one-night-stand kind of woman. That I’m her first in this.

I reassure her that we’ll take things slow as I place my hand on her back, guiding her into the hotel.

It takes all my self-control not to make a move on her in the elevator, not to slide my leg between hers to feel how wet she is. Not to kiss her neck and taste her tongue.

I look over at her. She’s nibbling on her lip and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss it, to soothe the abuse she’s inflicting on it.

The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I step out first, with her trailing behind me.

I find our room, unlock it, and hold the door open for her. She hesitates as she steps inside, her eyes fixated on the tub.

I can tell she’s intrigued by it. Her gaze flickers between the massive bed and the tub, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the tub. I wonder how much brighter they’d get if she were actually in it.

I decide to fill the tub for her. “A bath will help you relax,” I explain, reaching for the bubble bath on the side of the tub and pouring it in.

I suggest she undress and get in while I rummage through the mini-bar for another drink.

There’s a long counter lining one wall, with a small fridge underneath. I open it and grab the first bottle I see: a fancy brand of champagne. I pop it open and pour two glasses.

I glance back at her. She’s submerged in the bubbles of the jacuzzi tub, her eyes closed, her face peaceful and relaxed.

I sneak up to her and whisper, asking if she wants her drink now.

She turns to me, our mouths just inches apart. “I’ll take it now,” she breathes.

Our fingers brush as she takes the glass from me. Her touch is soothing in a way I’ve never experienced before, and it unnerves me.

This attraction doesn’t make sense. It’s a distraction I don’t need. I try to hide my feelings; it’s better if she doesn’t know how much I want her.

I’m about to walk away when she stops me.

“Why don’t you join me?”

The suggestion sends a jolt straight to my cock. I down my drink and set the glass back on the counter. I toss my hat aside, followed by my shirt. I hear her gasp.

“Like what you see?” I tease. She moans in response, and I kick off my shoes and peel off my jeans in a slow striptease.

I free my hard cock from my boxer briefs. It’s standing at attention, rigid and ready.

“Sit up,” I command.

She complies without hesitation, and I slide in behind her, adjusting her onto my lap. She feels me beneath her and moans, quickly muffling the sound with her hand.

I tell her not to hide it, that I want to hear every sound she makes. I gently remove her hand from her mouth.

***

She’s lying next to me, still and quiet after what we just did. We didn’t just have sex once, or twice, but three times.

I look over at her. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, barely open.

I consider pulling her into my side and holding her through the night. It would be peaceful, but it would also be intimate. I can’t let her think it’s more than it is: just sex.

When she catches me looking at her, she smiles. Her dimples are damn sexy.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing. She rolls onto her side to face me, drapes her arm over my hip, and buries her face in my chest. Then she drifts off to sleep.

I lay there, frozen, for a few minutes. What if she wants to stay in the morning? What if she thinks there’s something more between us?

Damn it, is she really going to read that much into a little cuddling? I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s not like the others.

I roll over to find an empty, cold bed. I hear the rustling of clothes. I rub my eyes and open them to see Abagail holding my jeans in one hand and my wallet in the other.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I bellow, jumping out of bed, not caring that I’m naked. She drops my things as I reach for them.

“It’s not what you think,” she stammers.

“Bullshit. You were either trying to find out where I live, steal my cash, or take my credit cards. How close am I?” I snap.

“Again, it’s not what you think. I’m not a thief or a stalker. I was just looking for your phone.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that line...

“Do me a favor and get the fuck out,” I say, snatching my wallet and jeans from her.

“I’m telling you the truth. I’m not some groupie. I wouldn’t stoop that low to get close to you.”

“Sure, babe. I know how this game works. You play hard to get, knowing I’ll enjoy the chase. Then you give in.

“You pretend you’ve never had a one-night stand. You act like you’re into it. We have decent sex and then you think you’ve got me hooked.

“Newsflash, I’ve been playing this game for years. It’s nothing new. I see right through you.

“If you wanted money for last night, you should’ve just asked. But going through my stuff? That’s a deal breaker. Now get out before I call hotel security,” I yell in her face.

She starts crying, and for some reason, I want to hold her and apologize. To tell her I’m sorry for calling her a whore, just to make her stop crying.

I can’t stand tears. They’re a sign of weakness, whether you’re a man or a woman.

She doesn’t argue. She turns away from me and starts getting dressed.

As soon as her shoes are on, she bolts for the door. As she opens it to leave, she takes one last look back at me.

Her mascara is streaking down her cheeks. She looks like she's been through the wringer, like she's shattered. “Fuck you.” And just like that, she's out of sight.