She blinks at me in shock until something catches her attention over my shoulder and her body visibly stiffens.
My temples pound with outrage. Aware that her prick of an ex is not only behind us but also extracting a response from her, I give in to my anger. My body crushes hers into the wall. With a swift bend of my head, I catch her lips and stop her gasp, loving the touch of her lip ring pressing against my mouth. Under me, she is as unyielding and still as the sculptures we viewed. Indignation has me not caring. My hips grind against hers as my tongue strokes into her mouth. Though this is about showing her she can’t fuck with me, I can’t help notice the taste of her mouth on my tongue is as sweet as the wine she drank.
I’m about to pull back and get some control when her lips and body soften. The ire of my kiss spirals into something else as she responds. Her fingers grip my shoulders. Her tongue slides with mine. Her response wipes out my anger. I forget about her ex and that we’re in public, and deepen the kiss.
Cupping the sides of her face, I push into her and she moans ever so slightly into me. Ah hell. My outrage fizzles at her response. I want her now. I tear my mouth from hers and reach for her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
With heavily lidded eyes, she nods.
Lust pounding in my brain, I haul her past an open-mouthed Trevor, through the crush of bodies, grab our coats at the entrance, and cross the street before the gloss of lust dissipates from her gaze.
Still dazed—I’m hoping it’s my kiss not the wine—she lets me help her into the passenger seat. Rounding the front of the car, I think of where we could go. My dorm room? Shit, I should have used my ridiculous allowance to get an apartment instead of being such a lazy ass. Her place? Does she have roommates? Does she live alone?
I slide into the driver’s seat and ask, “Where to?”
Allie remains facing forward. Her bottom lip quivers. Her clasped hands tremble in her lap. She draws in a deep breath, then suddenly bursts into tears.
Her soft sobs echo in the car.
Ah shit. Her tears kill my lust. I have no idea how to deal with a crying woman.
“I’m such a fool. I’m so—s-sorry,” she sputters.
“Hey,” I say. I’m desperately trying to think of a way to calm her down when the face of her dickhead ex pops up outside her window.
“Oh no, please go,” she wails.
He raps a knuckle on the glass.
What’s with this fucking circus? I just want to have sex with that voice, those legs, that lip ring. All this other shit is getting ridiculous. I start the car. He pounds on the window. I’m out of the car in seconds, leaning across the roof. “Get your hands off the glass.”
“I want to talk to Al,” he sneers.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. So step away from the car and move on.”
“Not till I talk with Al.”
I’d like to pound this prick into the cement, but fighting with her ex while Allie cries in the car might put an even bigger damper on my chances than her tears. “Get it through your head. She doesn’t want to talk,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Trevor!” Jazz wails from the other side of the street. “What the hell are you doing?”
His face twists in a scowl. “Tell Al I’ll call her later.” He whips around and stalks across the street.
Who is this asshole? I drop into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks for getting rid of him,” Allie whispers, wiping the wetness on her cheeks with shaky fingers.
With a sigh, I reach over, brushing my elbow on her thigh, and she flinches. Getting irritated again, I open the glove box and dig out some old napkins. “Here,” I say, dropping them in her lap.
“Thanks.” She reaches for the crumpled paper as I pull onto the street.
I drive. She wipes at her tears, then lets out a deep sigh. “I thought I could handle it. Obviously I was in la-la land. I didn’t mean to use you that way. I really did think we could go out and have fun.” The napkins are fisted in her lap. “Then I saw them together, freaked out, drank too much wine, and acted like an ass.”
Turning a corner, I shrug but I’m still annoyed. I try to remember I agreed to a fake date but can’t help snapping, “Your relationship must have been pretty serious. Two years and you’re still affected by this asshole dumping you?”
She turns toward the side window. “He didn’t dump me. I left him. And he wasn’t just a boyfriend.”
“What does that mean?”
She leans her forehead on the glass. “My husband.”
Those two words have me feeling like the wind was just knocked out of me. “You were married to him?”
She doesn’t lift her head. “For over a year.”
Fucking married. My hands clench around the steering wheel. I want to punch it. That’s why this guy is such a huge deal to her. I’m pretty sure he’s the reason her eyes always churn with the depth of a stormy gray sky. And why she’s so distant. “You must have been young,” I somehow get out.
“Eighteen.”
I guess a connection. “He cheated on you with Jazz.”
She lets out another sigh. “And others but mostly her. He always goes back to Jazz. Childhood sweethearts.”
“Sounds to me like you were his childhood sweetheart.”
“After Jazz. Always after Jazz.” Her voice is small and sad.
I pull up in front of her shop. “You should have warned me about the past between you two. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off and attacked you.”
Her laugh sounds miserable but it’s still sexy. “I try to pretend the past doesn’t matter. Explaining it makes it matter. Besides, I wasn’t really complaining when you pushed me against the wall.”
At this point, I’m not sure what to make of that. “Allie…”
She reaches for the door handle. “See you Friday. Good night, Justin.”
With those final words, she’s out of my car, leaving me as confused as shit.
Chapter 8
Allie
I’ve been dreading Justin’s appointment since he dropped me off Tuesday night. Beyond being embarrassed by my meltdown, I’m having a hard time forgetting his kiss. I haven’t been kissed like that in ages. Heck, I haven’t been kissed at all in ages. But it doesn’t matter. Justin is not the man for me. Not even close. If I were looking, it would be for someone mature. Definitely someone not on the one-night-stand merry-go-round. So when Shay brings him into the room for his appointment, I force myself to appear calm and professional. I don’t want him to notice my jittery nerves.
Of course, Justin is his usual grinning, smooth self. “Hey, Allie,” he says, dragging off his designer sunglasses and leaning a hip against the tattoo chair.
Shay gives his whole body a slow once-over, then looks at me pointedly as she leaves. I ignore her. The last thing I need to be reminded of is that he’s hot. All I want at this point is to clear the air. I want the elephant out of the room before I stick a needle in him. Putting my twisting hands behind my back, I start, “I want to apologize again for Tuesday. Regardless of my reasons, my behavior was unacceptable—actually, ridiculous.”
He gives me a slow smile. “Come to my show tomorrow and no apology needed.”
Oh, crap. I forgot about our deal. I bite my lip ring. Why he’d want me to go after Tuesday’s debacle is beyond me, but I can’t back out after what he put up with at the art show. “If I don’t have anything scheduled, I should be able to go. If not, when’s your next show?”
He taps his sunglasses on his thigh. Though his face is relaxed, the motion suggests irritation. “In four weeks. We rarely play back-to-back Saturdays, usually once a month or so.”