Soft Shock (4 page)

The ones with
an agenda, an ulterior motive, they were easy to read and so not a threat. That
type she could handle. They wanted what she wanted—the only thing she
allowed herself to want. Do it, get it over with, and move on. Nobody gets hurt
because everybody wants the same thing, and no one’s going to try to get any
more than that one thing. The nice ones, the genuine-seeming ones, the Opie
types, those were the ones you had to watch out for.

#

Owen looked
around crazily, turning his head from left to right.

“What’s wrong?”
Brynn asked.

“It was nice
meeting you, but I have to go,” Owen said.

“Why? Is
everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I
just, uh, lost someone.”

“Who?” Brynn
seemed puzzled. “Dante’s right over there.” Brynn pointed to the bar where
Dante was drinking a beer and flirting with an attractive dark haired woman. So
Dante had invited Mary out—he was determined that was going to go his way
one of these days. “You didn’t come with anyone else, did you?” Brynn asked.

Not exactly.
“Uhm. Something. I lost something,” Owen said.
“I have to go.”

“Well, Dante
has my number. I’d love to see you again,” Brynn said, looking at him
expectantly.

He smiled at
her and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll call you.”

“Do that. Get
my number from Dante.”

“Yep. Have a
good night.” Owen headed for the bar, still scanning the overcrowded room. He
headed for the blond man and the two women he’d seen Marci talking to earlier.
They would probably know where she was if anyone did. Before he could reach
them,
his path was blocked by someone
. He looked up,
ready to excuse himself and skirt around the person until he realized
who
it was. Soft, curly brown hair resting against her
shoulders. Light brown eyes set in a lovely brown face. Full lips he would love
to cover with his own right now.

“Marci,” he
said softly.

“Hi again.” She
smiled, and he hadn’t believed her face could be even more beautiful until that
moment.

“I never
thought I’d see you again after we left student health Thursday. I’m so glad
that wasn’t the case.” He left off the part where he’d determined to find her
again because that might be a little creepy.

She nodded and
fidgeted with a class ring that hung from a necklace that plunged teasingly low
and drew attention to phenomenal cleavage. Not too much, not too little.

“I really am so
sorry. You have to let me make it up to you.” He was about to suggest a date
when she stepped closer, bringing her body flush against his and causing him to
lose all train of thought.

“Leave,” she
said.

“No.” He shook
his head. “Not this time. You can’t—”

She laughed and
placed a finger over his lips. Warmth spread from the place where her finger
touched him to the rest of his entire body. “With me,” she said. “Leave with
me.”

“Right now?” he
mumbled against her finger.

Moving her
finger away, but not before a hungry yet uncomfortable look passed over her
face, she said, “Yeah.”

“Really?” he
frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to leave with you, but why the sudden
change?”

She leaned in so
that her lips were at his ear. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she said,
“I made this bet with my friends, okay? So, we leave together, we both get
something out of the deal, and I win the bet. What do you think?”

His heart sank
for a moment. This was all about a bet. Not about him. But maybe he could use
this to his advantage.
One step at a time.
First step?
He was going to get to leave the bar with Marci.

“Let me tell my
friend I’m leaving,”
Owen
said.

“The girl?”

“No. She’s…I
just met her,” Owen said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Marci
said.

Owen ran up to
the bar and grabbed Dante’s shoulder. When he told Dante what his plans were,
Dante narrowed his eyes at him. “What happened to Brynn?”

“Can you tell
her I’m sorry? Please?”

Dante shook his
head. “This is the last time I try to help you out, man.”

“This is an
unbelievable chance I got tonight. I’m not going to blow it,” Owen said. “You
don’t mess with fate. This has to be fate.”

“How you
getting home?” Dante said. Dante had driven them there.

“Let’s hope she
has a car.”

Dante grunted a
response.

“What time are
you coming home tonight?” Owen asked.

“Late,” Dante
said. “But I’ll be back. So don’t y’all be gettin’ freaky in my living room.”

“Good night,”
Owen said. Dante grumbled a reply as Owen ran over to Marci who was now
standing near the entrance to the bar.

“Did you
drive?” Owen asked.

Marci nodded.
“You have a car here?”

“Nah.”

“I’ve only had
one whiskey, but it made me so dizzy, which is not normal for me. I guess it
goes with this whole strange week.” She held up a BMW key fob. “You want to
drive?”

“Yeah. I’m good
to drive.” He’d never gotten around to ordering a beer after being distracted
by Marci from the time he realized she was in the bar earlier that night.

She led the way
out to her car, and he watched the way her hips moved in her jeans until she
stopped moving. He looked up and saw a silver seven series BMW in front of
them, and it was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping open.

“This is it.”
She hit the unlock button and dropped the key fob into her purse. They got into
the car, and Owen pushed the button to start the engine.

“This is nice,”
Owen said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Marci shrugged.
“I guess. I didn’t ask for it if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not some
spoiled rich brat or someone who thinks she needs to impress people with what
she drives or with anything else.” She sounded a little bitter about this
subject. “Sorry. I’m gonna blame that one the whiskey.” She smiled and grabbed
his shoulder. Resting her head against it, she asked, “Which way to your
place?”

He swallowed
against his dry throat and tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Man, she felt
good pressed against him, her breasts pushing against his arm as she leaned
over the center console and was practically in the driver seat with him.

“I’ll show
you,” he said.

“Please do,”
she said, pressing
herself
tighter to his arm.

He didn’t know
how he was able to concentrate on driving enough to get them back to his place
safely, but he managed it. The trip was a blur. The whole time, the only
thought that flashed through his mind was like a beacon on a lighthouse:
sex
.
But no.
He
was going to stay strong. He had no intention of letting their first time
together be based on a bet.

They got out of
the car, and she followed him to his apartment. He fumbled with his keys for a
while before finally getting the apartment door open. They slipped inside, and
she pulled him to her and surprised him with a kiss. He groaned and pulled her
closer. She backed him up until he bumped against the couch. Sitting on the arm
of it, he pulled her down with him.
Just a few minutes.
He’d stop this in a few minutes.
Just a few more kisses.

She stood and
held out her hands. He looked up at her, bewildered as blood thundered through
his veins. Why’d she stop?

“Your room,”
she said, reaching over to kiss him again. He put his hands in her hair and
kissed her long and deep. She gave into the kiss, and he pulled her backwards
with him so that a moment later, she lay on top of him and he lay with his back
on the couch and his legs still dangling over the arm of it. She pulled back
for a moment and started to say something. He put his hands on the sides of her
face and traced her cheeks with his thumbs. She was so beautiful. And there was
something about her—he’d felt it on the day he met her, too, but now, in
the quiet and shadowy dark of his apartment, it was so much stronger. He felt
this almost irrational pull to her. He barely even knew her. Yet he wanted
nothing more in the world than to change that—to know everything about
her. Dante would say he was just rebounding hard, but he didn’t think so. He’d
rebounded before, but he’d never felt
this
.
Whatever it was.

“What?” she
said softly.

“Nothing. I
just like looking at you,” he half-lied. Even in the semi-dark, he did really
enjoy the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her eyes, her full lips. He vaguely
remembered something he’d read once about attractiveness being based on
symmetry. Well, then. Her face must have been perfectly symmetrical. He kissed
her slightly rounded chin, beneath her lower lip. Her hand went under his
shirt, and he grabbed it, remembering that Dante still had to come home. He
didn’t want that kind of awkward tonight. Plus, Dante would be sure to pay him
back if he caught Owen and Marci going at it on the couch. And with as many
women as Dante brought home, Owen didn’t want that kind of payback.

“What?” Marci
looked down at his hand, which circled her wrist.

“Come on.” He
gently slid from under her and got to his feet. She quickly followed his
example. Without letting go of her, he led her to his room. He reached for the
light switch, but she grabbed his hand and put it on her hip.

“No lights?” he
asked.

“No lights,”
she said. Covering his lips with hers, she reached under his shirt for his
belt. He let her loosen it, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to let this go on for a
little while. She separated their lips long enough to pull her shirt over her
head and toss it aside. His eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for him to
lead her over to the bed. He pushed her down onto the bed and lay on top of her
before filling his hands with her breasts. He squeezed them, eliciting a moan
from her, as he grinded his hips against hers. Teasing her nipples through the
silky fabric of her bra, he pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.

“Owen. Please,”
she whispered. Slipping the straps of her bra down her arms, he kissed her
shoulders. “More.” She frantically unhooked the bra and tossed it aside. He put
his mouth over the warm flesh of her breasts, kissing his way down to her
nipples. While sucking on one of them, he circled the other with his thumb.
Then he switched nipples. She was now rocking against his hips, hard and fast.
Her breath came in faster and faster gasps. She grabbed the back of the waist
of his jeans with her fists.

He stopped.

#

She couldn’t
believe how close she was to coming when he stopped. Just stopped cold. Dry
humping hadn’t gotten her off in years. But something about the way he touched
her, about his kisses, had her losing all control. Shit. She’d faked more
orgasms to get guys off her so she could go home and get some sleep than she’d
actually had lately, and Owen had nearly made her come in her pants.

And then he
stopped.

“What’s wrong?”
she asked, still panting from the things Owen had been doing to her body just
seconds ago.

“I’m sorry,” he
said. “I can’t do this. Not like this.” He sat back on his heels, his thighs
still straddling hers. “That’s not who I am.”

“Huh?” She
stared up at him, puzzled.

“Don’t get me
wrong, I’d love to.
Under different circumstances.
But
not based on a bet. Not when you still kind of hate me for what happened last
week.”

“I don’t kind
of hate you.”

“You’re not too
fond of me, are you?”

“I don’t know
enough about you to make any kind of judgment.”

“And see?
That’s the problem. I want you to. To know me that is. Give me a chance to make
it up to you.”

“You can make
it up to me right now,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Not like
this.”

She slid her
body from beneath his and got to her feet. She looked back at him in the bed.
Pity. He wasn’t bad looking at all.
Nope, not at all.
She
grabbed her shirt and tugged it on, and he turned on a lamp near the side of
his bed.

“Are you
leaving now?”

“I don’t see
the point in staying.” She stuffed her bra into the back pocket of her jeans
and looked around for her jacket. Where was it? Had she left it in the living
room?

“We could
talk.”

“We’ve done
enough talking. I’m done embarrassing myself in front of you.” She looked at
him over her shoulder.

“Embarrassing
yourself? How?” A frown of confusion settled over his pretty boy face.

She laughed and
stopped searching for her missing jacket long enough to look him in the
gorgeous gray eyes. “I’ve never been turned down for sex before. This is new.”

“I’m not really
turning you down. Just postponing it. I hope.”

She was pretty
sure her shirt, which she’d put back on in the dark, was inside out. But she
wasn’t about to take the time to fix that. She would throw her jacket on when
she found it, and all would be fine.
All with the shirt
situation anyway.

“Owen, we’ve
had a few too many bad starts. Do you not get that? We should not see each
other again. Ever.”

His handsome
face fell. She almost felt bad for being responsible for this. But she wasn’t
the relationship type. And even if she was, how in the world could they start
anything up between them with all the bad first impressions they’d made?

“Are you okay
to drive?” He raked his fingers through his hair, lifting his wavy, dark blond hair
away from his forehead. “You said you were tipsy earlier.”

“Fine. Thanks.”
She’d sobered up between the ride home and getting shut down by a guy for the
first time in her life. Weren’t guys always supposed to be ready to go? Weren’t
girls the ones to turn down sex if anyone did? Was she losing her touch, or was
the problem with him?