Exposed: Book One of The Love Seekers Series (16 page)

“I came with my friend. She said there will be plenty of guys for both of us,” Angela admitted, her tongue snaking out to wet her lips.

I wanted to cringe with disgust. Admittedly, I had been picky lately, but surely no one expected me to do this…monster. It wasn’t only her looks, although that had a great deal to do with it, but her attitude made her ugly. The way she jumped from one man to another so easily, like it was normal, made me squeamish.

“I see. I came with a friend too in order to celebrate another friend’s birthday. The friend you were just feeling up.” I still couldn’t understand how she managed to get so close to him. Couldn’t he smell her?

“Well it is a party. I think we can all have a good time together. Or taking turns. Your choice.”

I almost gagged, but managed to keep my face impassive and hid my reaction. “I see.”

“I’m just here for a good time. You know how that is?”

“I do.”

“I can blow all three of you in this room if you want.”

My stomach turned, making me grateful I hadn’t eaten yet. If I had, I might have thrown up on her. She smelled like cat food, her makeup was too heavy, and she oozed an aura of desperation.

“Angela!” Another woman stumbled over toward us. Her tits were big, fake, and practically falling out of her halter top. Her tanned skin was clear of any blemishes, and her face and makeup made her look like she stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. What the fuck?

“This is my friend, Brandy.” Angela introduced the newcomer.

Everything suddenly made sense. Shane wanted in Brandy’s pants and put up with Angela until Evan and I showed up so that we could take her off of his hands. Either that, or Shane wanted in Brandy’s pants and would put up with Angela in order to succeed, even if it meant a threesome. Shane was a freak when it came to the bedroom, and had been known to sleep with anyone who had a pussy and willingly spread her legs. Angela seemed fit that requirement.

“Hi, Brandy. I’m Bryan and this is my roommate, Evan.” I made sure my tone remained even and polite.

“Hey, you’re hot!” Brandy slurred as she wrapped her arms around Shane.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” My smirk grew.

Her eyes roved to Evan. “And so are you.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he nodded. “I’ve been told that before.”

I could see the expression on Shane’s face change. He knew what was coming and silently asked us to spare Brandy. We didn’t.

Narrowing my eyes, I sized both of the ladies up and shook my head at what I saw. “Brandy?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you the one that did Angela’s makeup?”

She giggled. “Nope. She did that on her own.”

“You probably think you’re the hottest woman in the room, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I think that’s pretty obvious. And I think it’s also obvious that you three deserve the best. You know you want me. I’ll even let you stick it in any hole you want.”

Was it possible? Had my dick shriveled some more? I had yet to get hard in front of Angela or Brandy, and I think my dick just curled up inside itself. Fuck!

I turned to Angela. “You probably think you’re hot stuff too, don’t you?”

“I’ve never had any complaints. I had Shane eating out of the palm of my hand before you showed up.”

“I’m sure you did,” I snidely remarked.

Evan chuckled. “You want at shot at all three of us?”

Both girls answered at the same time, “Yes!” They were panting and practically drooled at the thought of having three hot men at their disposal.

“Then why don’t you go home and close your eyes and start dreaming, because that’s the only way you’re going to get any of us in bed with you. Sorry, but we don’t play pass around the pussy, and we definitely don’t want what you’re selling. Either one of you. So I suggest, you leave.” Again, I remained patient, rational, and calm.

Angela laughed again, and I wished I had ear plugs to save my ears from that horrendous sound. “You can’t make us leave. We were invited.”

“By who?” Shane asked.

What? Did this mean he didn’t know these girls?

Angela turned to Brandy because she had received her invite through her friend, but Brandy suddenly appeared very nervous.

“Who invited you?” I demanded.

“Jill Bart,” Brandy mumbled.

Did she say Jill Bart? My crazy ex who went out with Evan, who we fought to get out of the house? The same one who I told Emma about? Her?

Shane knew the whole story about Jill the psycho, and Evan and I had less than fond memories of her. All three of us shouted, “Out!”

All eyes turned and watched the women practically run out of the bar with heads bowed low and their tail between their legs. Amazing how sober Brandy suddenly acted when the truth slapped her in the face.
Fuck, I needed a strong drink.

Without waiting for our waitress, I stomped over to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila. I started to lift one to my lips when a hand stopped me. My gaze traveled from the hand, up the arm, across the shoulder and chest, and up to the face. The woman had short brown hair with sparkling brown eyes. Her makeup was light, and her teeth had a tiny gap between the front two, but they were free of lipstick and food. Her petite body appeared as if it worked out regularly and she had little to no curves–not a deal breaker though.

“Is one of those for me?” She inquired sweetly with a small trace of a southern accent.

Lifting one eyebrow, I asked with a smile, “Not from around here?”

“Georgia. You?”

“South Carolina.”

She stuck her hand out to shake mine, and I enveloped her tiny hand between both of my giant palms. “I’m Jonie, and I’m a yoga instructor.”

“Bryan, and I’m a Navy pilot.” Her eyes glazed over when she heard what I did for a living. The smile on my lips grew. Releasing her, I pushed one of the shot glasses toward her along with the salt, which she sprinkled on her hand like I had done. “To new friends.”

“Cheers.” Her glass clinked against mine, we licked the salt, drink the shot, and grabbed a lime to suck on.

Tonight suddenly took a different turn. Maybe Jonie would help me out of my dry spell.

I invited her back to the back room to join the party, and she agreed to come if her friend could come too. Thankfully, her friend Michelle acted and appeared normal with light brown hair that fell to the small of her back and green eyes that instantly fell on Evan. Both girls only came to my shoulders, but where Jonie had practically zero curves except for her small breasts, Michelle had an ass a man could grab and tits that looked as if they would overflow my hands.

Evan and Michelle hit it off, leaving Jonie and I to our own devices. I didn’t worry about the birthday boy because his harem—minus two—surrounded him again.

We talked, we laughed, we drank, we kissed…and I pulled back. Guilt assailed me. I tried again. Unable to continue kissing her, I took a step backwards. “Sorry.”

“You okay?” Jonie asked, concerned, reaching out to me.

I shook off her hand and nodded. “Yes…no…I don’t know. Sorry. It’s not you.”

Holding up her hand, she forced me to stop. “Please don’t start with that line ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Pathetic. If you don’t want this. That’s fine, but don’t blow me off with a bullshit line.”

“Sorry. I know. I keep saying that. I’ve got to go,” I told her, and after a quick goodbye to Shane and Evan, I called for an Uber and went home.

What the fuck was happening to me? I had the perfect opportunity to put an end to my dry spell, and I couldn’t go through with it. Why? Why did I feel guilty? I had absolutely no reason to feel guilty.

Shit!
My night ended and I walked into the house and flopped on my bed. I was done. Tomorrow would be a new day and I could think about things then. Until then, I wanted to pretend tonight ended on a high instead of a low.

Chapter 17

Bryan

“You’re an asshole of the first order!” Mel screamed.

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I grimaced and stuck my tongue out at Evan before holding it up to my ear again. I’d been cooking breakfast when my cellphone rang and he thought it would be a great idea to answer it. He was a shithead.

But for now, I needed to ignore my roommate and focus on Mel. Something told me whatever put her in a pissy mood had something to do with Emma. Had Emma told her about our argument four days ago–the very argument Mel helped instigate? Possible, but not likely. Since then Emma and I got along great. Granted I might have been slightly on edge since losing out on a sure thing, and I still hadn’t figured out why I couldn’t go through with it, but wouldn’t lay that at Emma’s feet or shift the blame to her.

What else could it be?

“Is it that time of the month?” I never liked to throw what she termed her “womanhood” in her face, however, her attitude irritated me. She chose to call me up and yell at me before a pleasant “hello” or “what’s up”. If she acted like a bitch, I reserved the right to act like an outright bastard to her.

“Don’t even go there with me, Bryan Gorman Sampson!”

“What the fuck did I do, and who the fuck pissed you off? Is Luke withholding sex from you or something?” I snapped, throwing down the spatula I used to push the eggs around the skillet.

“ASSHOLE!” Her yell could be heard from the kitchen to the back of the house. I knew it had when Evan, who had gone to his room to grab something, came out laughing and mimicking her.

My eyes rolled on their own accord, and I pressed the heel of my hand into my forehead. “We’ve established the fact I’m an asshole. Now you want to pull that stick out of your own ass and tell me what I did wrong?”

“I talked to your sister.”

Oh shit.
Everything came into focus and I understood completely. I really was in a boatload of trouble, and should have suspected Rayne would call in reinforcements.

Rayne had called earlier in the morning and asked me to request leave so I could come home and talk to our parents. While I respected both of them, and loved them to death, they were both adults and there wasn’t anything anyone could say that would change their minds about the divorce. But my sister believed otherwise. She seemed to think I lived in a bubble of denial. To her, I liked to pretend everything was all right, because if I didn’t see it, everything remained as it always had.

My head started to throb, and I threw the dish towel at Evan to get him to shut up, or at least try. It didn’t work, but at least he left the room, the sounds of his laughter disappearing behind his closed bedroom door.

It honestly didn’t surprise me that my parents decided to get a divorce. Even before I left for the Navy, things felt strained and weird. However, I still felt hurt and pissed off. The divorce made things awkward, but my own parents, the people who gave me life, never called and told me the monumental news themselves…they had left the dirty deed to my sister.

A week ago, my sister called me and informed me of the impending divorce. Not my mom or my dad. My sister called. A whole week had passed, and they still hadn’t reached out to talk to me themselves. Nothing. No communication whatsoever. No emails, calls, texts, Skype, or anything. Not even a message on FaceSpace. At this point, I’d accept a Tweet or Instagram as an acceptable form of communication, but I had received nothing except complete silence from them.

Since I’d returned stateside, the only time I ever talked to either of them, was the one return phone call I received the day after I returned. I knew things were bad between us, but was I really worth less than ten minutes of their time?

We used to be a happy family. What happened? Rayne blamed me, but if I caused the rift, shouldn’t I know what I did wrong? From the time I entered college through my first year in the Navy, I tried to get them to talk to me every chance I got, and yet, nothing I did ever worked. I couldn’t even recall the last good conversation I had with my parents. I

My senior year in high school, I asked Rayne why she thought they stopped talking to me. Her answer shocked me. “What do you mean? They try to talk to you all the time. You won’t really talk to them though.” I couldn’t believe it, Rayne actually thought I brought this upon myself.

It had gotten to the point that I tried not to broach the subject of our parents too much when talking to Rayne. It caused stress and undo strain between us when did, therefore, it was easier to ignore.

If I understood why everything fell apart, if I heard their reasoning, maybe I wouldn’t feel hurt, angry, confused, or like they discarded me. Maybe if I understood, I could try to build a bridge between us for my sister’s sake, but some things truly were impossible. I understood nothing. I had zero answers. And when I asked them, they’d said, “We don’t know what you’re talking about, son.” I would probably have an easier time getting information out of a terrorist cell than trying to get Carol and Matt Sampson to open up to me.

This was their decision and I was the last person on the planet they would ever listen to or take advice from, which was why it pissed me off that Rayne called Mel. My best friend knew the about the lack of relationship between me and my parents, and yet, she still took my sister’s side. Why the hell did she call to yell at me then?

“Are you there?” Her demand sounded more like a growl.

“I’m here.” My voice came out clipped and emotionless, as if her phone call irritated me. It did.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Perplexed, I barked, “What? Do? I’m not going to do anything.”

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Why the fuck does it matter? Excuse me if I’m completely off base here, but I’m pretty sure I’ve told you all the bullshit that’s been going on with my parents. You also know that there’s shit I can do to change their minds. For fucks sake, they’re grown adults and can make their own decisions about their lives and how they want to live them. Now that Rayne and I are gown and moved out, they can move on with their own lives.”

“You won’t do this for your sister? You won’t even try for Rayne? Look. I know your parents probably won’t listen, but I’m not asking you to do this for them. I’m asking for Rayne. She’s really upset and has been staying on my couch crying herself to sleep every night since your parents decided to get the divorce. I know she’s acting like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, but she never got the cold shoulder from your folks. To her, everything was always rainbows and butterflies, and now that shit has been blown to smithereens. She needs to believe that everything that can be tried has been tried. And if your parents still get divorced, then so be it, but at least you tried your best.”

“Mel…” I began, however, she interrupted me before I could continue.

“Don’t ‘Mel’ me. I agree, your parents are asshats for how they’ve treated you, but you love your sister and she’s your family.”

“Mel, I don’t know.”

“Bryan, I need her off my fucking couch. She is driving me insane!”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Her crying is annoying. I love your sister, and she’s a close friend of the family and all that, but damn. I’ve never seen someone whine so much.”

“So this is all purely for selfish reasons.”

“Nope.”

              Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “What?”

              “I miss you and it’ll be fun to see you again.” Mel giggled, and then she turned serious again, “Rayne really does need to know everything possible was tried. I know your parents won’t listen, but she needs to see your attempt to talk to them.”

              “She’s 24, it’s time she grows up. Besides I’ll be home for your wedding in about a month,” I grumbled.

              “And it’s a month and a half until the wedding. Do you know how long that is? How long I will have to deal with her? You’re right, she should grow up. So come home and tell her that, because that shit needs to come from you, not me.”

              Mel would harp until I gave in, which was why I decided giving in sooner rather than later would benefit me more. “Fine. But I can’t promise anything. We’re doing training exercises at the base and this is short notice.”

              Huffing, Mel told me, “I’m only asking you try your best. If you can’t, then you can’t. I’m not asking you to pull rainbows out of your ass.”

              “Whatever. I’ll see what I can do, but with me having leave for the wedding, I don’t think they’ll give me another leave so close to it.”

              “All I ask is that you try.” Her perky voice grated on my nerves.

              Sitting down hard onto the recliner in the living room, I ran a hand through my hair and asked, “Anything else?”

              “Not really. How is your little project with Emma going?” She asked offhandedly.

              “It’s okay.” I didn’t want to discuss Emma with her at all, not after it blew up in my face the last time. Erring on the side of caution, I chose to give the shortest possible answer to all questions. Even if it never got back to her, because the last thing I wanted to do was to lose Emma’s trust in me again. Too many men have failed her or fallen short of the mark, and I didn’t want to become one more notch on that list.

              “Okay? That’s all I get?” I heard the snickers she tried to muffle, and I pulled my hair in frustration. 

              Emma and I got along great, but there were times when I felt out of my league trying to coach a girl—not that I would ever admit that even upon pain of death—when having a girl’s opinion might help. “Not much to tell. We talk and that’s about it.”
Or all I was willing to share with her.

              “She told me she’s going to the barbecue on Saturday.”

              “Good. I kind of thought she would come up with some sort of excuse to back out of going.” Relief flooded me at hearing Emma would indeed go to the party I basically ordered her to attend.

              “Truth?”

              That made me scared. Mel sometimes said things that didn’t always help the situation, and she had been known to make it worse sometimes. “What?” I had to ask.

              I thought my best friend would remain serious, but her solemn tone of voice changed when she said, “I think she was looking for me to tell her she didn’t have to go.” She howled with laughter. “I told her I couldn’t wait to hang out with her at the party, and that if she wanted a ride, Luke and I would drive her.”

              “Thanks.” Truth was, I didn’t trust Emma not to bail on the party, ergo with Mel as my backup, I knew she’d have no choice but to show up.

              “You’re making her go.”

              “I’m not making her do anything, but she needs to start putting herself out there.” The heart of the matter when it came to Emma. She needed to learn to open up.

              What I didn’t say, what I feared was if Emma kept to herself and refused to meet new people, if she ran scared, she would eventually never leave her house again except when absolutely necessary. I worried she would break off ties to her friends and family, and become the dreaded cat lady of the neighborhood. I don’t care if she had dogs now, or if it’s like she told me last night and she was allergic to cats. She would become that person. I forbade her from doing that. If me coercing her to go to a party where I knew she would know at least a couple of people prevented that image from coming to life, then so be it.

              “And you’re not forcing her?” Mel challenged.

              “I’m not there to make sure she does or doesn’t get her butt to the party,” I retorted, my ego firmly in place.

              “But I am?” She hinted, as if she believed she was an intricate part of my plan. I hated to let her down and tell her my plans did not include her.

              “You are, but this has to be all her.”

              “Wait a second. What?”

              “You heard me. Look, I know you’re there, and that you’d make sure she gets there. I also know you support her 100%, but this has to be her, or in the future, she may have to be forced into doing anything and everything. And let’s be real, if the only thing she experiences is us coercing her that would take all the fun out of it. I hated playing baseball as a kid because my parents forced me to do it. I wanted to play football, but they thought it was too dangerous. In high school I played football and was happy as a clam.”

              “Good point.”

              “Exactly.”

              “You really are trying to help her, aren’t you?” she muttered. She sounded as if she had come to some sort of epiphany. Knowing she didn’t trust me when it came to Emma, hurt.

              “What the hell did you think was happening?” I hissed. Pressing my fingers down one at a time, I felt my knuckles pop.

              “Honestly?”

              “Now I don’t know if I want to know.”

              “I thought you were trying to arrange a hookup for one of your friends or for yourself when you took leave again.”

              “Ouch. Glad to know you have all that confidence and trust in me. I already told you that would never happen because first, she’s your friend, and second, she’s not my type. That’s like trying to look at you in a sexual way. Bleh. NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN,” I stressed. The sooner I got off of this call, the better for my sanity.