For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (38 page)

Of course, that had been years ago when she’d been a virgin, but even now, the little devil-girl inside was screaming at her to go back and choose him—he’d be happy to fuck her. It was in his eyes—it had
always
been in his eyes! But damn, things hadn’t really changed at all—he was still a little
too
scary looking, with shoulders broad enough to rival J.J.Watt’s and a scar on his right cheekbone that looked like someone had tried to carve their initials into him permanently—and had probably died trying.

And then, on top of it, there were the women—
two of them
—who’d already staked their claim. She wasn’t going to get embroiled in that mess of convoluted shit. Nope, no way. Bitches looked like they could take her down in a heartbeat—and she didn’t do bitch fighting.

No, she had to ignore the arrogant asshole across the room and stay focused on her goal for the night—to get even with her ex. (But in a sane manner—definitely
not
with a guy who would tell a sixteen-year-old girl that he wanted to take her for a ride on his bike after stripping her naked and fucking her from behind.
No matter how badly she wanted it.
)

As she continued to put distance between her and Tyler Copeland,
because really, that was too fucking scary to seriously consider,
she thanked God she’d never moved in with Mark. At least she wasn’t faced with having to throw him out. But still, she felt it in her soul—she
deserved
to get even, for her own sake. Because what did you do when you were twenty-three years old and your boyfriend of four shit-tastic years cheated on you?

The answer was easy. The first thing you had to do was dump his ass—hopefully in front of his loser friends while you were dressed to kill. So, check. She’d done that. And it had been totally sweet.

After that, all that was left was to make yourself feel a little better. There were different ways to accomplish that, of course. Anything Michael Kors
always
made her heart beat faster, but she was on a budget, dammit, and comfort shopping didn’t do a whole lot of good when you had to return everything to the store the next day.
Ugh
.

No, a hookup would be so much more satisfactory than retaliatory shopping. Mark hadn’t cheated only once. Oh, hell no, when she’d found him out it had
all
come spilling out—fucker had been cheating on her with an array of different women since they’d been together.
Fucker.
Had she mentioned that he was a fucker yet? Dude had a small penis, too—for real,
tiny
—and probably the reason he felt like he needed to prove something by fucking other women.

She couldn’t come up with a single reason she shouldn’t get even. What the hell, why the hell not? She’d never done anything like this before, so why the hell not?

And her first choice would have been
perfect
if the terrifying asshat of her dreams had at least been alone. Maybe, just maybe, she could have gotten over Tyler Copeland’s menacing look—
if
he’d been alone. Shit, the dude had
hawt
written all over him and for whatever reason, he’d looked as if he’d been almost salivating for her. (Still. Yay!)

Yeah, the temptation was definitely eating at her to turn around and at the very least, check him out one more time.

Sure, she could choose
bachelor number two
, the dude standing near the bar, but he wasn’t the right one—he wasn’t her first choice. For this to work, to be able to get the extreme satisfaction she needed from this little episode, she wanted to make her choice from every single guy in this bar. She should get to choose the one she really wanted.

And she wanted the yummy, scarred up, un-fucking-believably-good-looking dude who’d always looked as if he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and have his wicked, depraved, biker-like way with her. Had she mentioned that he was a biker?

She took a sip of her drink as she continued to stroll toward the back of the club, her mind racing. She had a damn decision to make—and she needed to make one fast before she chickened out and just went home to do a little online shopping.

As she got closer to the restrooms, she realized that she was only about three feet away from
bachelor number two
and he was staring straight at her with a twisted smile on his face. He wasn’t so bad—he looked doable enough. He was handsome, he didn’t look scary in the least, and he was, even now, sliding his leg into the aisle to stop her from walking past him.

Hmmmm. . .

She never made it even an inch farther—in thought or in motion. Her wrist was caught and held from behind, and without her volition, she was pulled to a complete halt, her body twisted in a one-eighty until she faced the man behind her, her torso slamming against his chest with a speed that left her light-headed and slightly winded.

Holy shit.

*     *     *

“Where the hell
do you think you’re going after the look you just gave me?” Tyler tried to keep the harsh words from spilling from his mouth, but his brain had gone on a walkabout. Up close, the girl was almost too good to be true—even better than before, refined with age or some such shit. It was her eyes—and the curves of her body that up close, were doing a number on his libido.

She stared up at him, her arms trembling, and before he was accidently (or purposely) drenched by the sticky-looking concoction in her glass, he took the drink from her and set it on the bar.

Her mouth opened to answer but before she was given a chance to retaliate, the son-of-a-bitch at the bar decided to make a play for her. The fucker stood to his feet and came up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder—as if he had the goddamn right. Tyler saw red when the guy touched her and he quickly shoved her behind him, readying himself to knock some sense into the dumb fuck. “Let it be, asshole—I saw her first.”

“Yeah? Why don’t we let her decide?”

Tyler was attuned to the feminine body at his back and he felt the girl trying to see what was going on so he tightened his fingers around her wrist to keep her in place as he glared at the intruder. “She wants
me
, buddy. You need to turn around and mind your own business—you’re out of this, got me?”

Asshole’s eyes lowered and Tyler knew the guy was searching the girl’s face. “That true? You want this guy?”

To Tyler’s infinite satisfaction, the girl remained silent but he could feel both the trembling in her limbs and her accelerated pulse rate as she stayed still and made not a single move to get away from him.

He lifted his chin, squaring off with the guy. “That answer enough for you, buddy?”

Instead of making a reply, the dude gave him one last look before turning on his heel and going back to his place at the bar.

Tyler wasted no more time—he needed a moment of privacy with this chick before the guy changed his mind and challenged him again so he continued to hold her clamped behind him as he shoved his way between the crowd and made his way to the semi-privacy that the restroom vestibule would afford him.

Swinging her against the wall, Tyler felt an electric current scorch him as he braced his forearms on either side of her head and looked down into her upturned face. This was the first time he’d been this close to her—the first time he’d touched her and his eyes narrowed as he studied her. He racked his brain, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name or if he’d ever known it. “What’s your name?”

She stalled only a moment before answering. “Whitney.”

He studied both the delicacy and the strength in her expression. “Whitney, huh?”

Color whipped into her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“You remember me?”

She began chewing on her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He probably owed her an apology. “Name’s Ty. You want to get out of here?”

At his question, her complexion paled before it filled with heat. She remained quiet as if debating the choice in front of her as she looked him over. With lips that quivered in a way that had his pecker about to explode, her eyes stalled on the scar on his face before dropping and appraising his upper body. A shudder reverberated through her as if she were about to make a deal with the devil—
or not
.

Well, fuck. She couldn’t back out now—he was primed and ready to go. “You want a sample, sweetheart? I’ll make it worth your while, baby, that’s a promise.” As he said the words, he slowly lowered one arm from the side of her head and as gently as possible under the circumstances, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up and into him. He didn’t altogether understand why he felt the need to be gentle, but he did know he was feeling a smidgeon of guilt for the way he’d acted toward her in the past.

The movement brought her pelvis into his and the contact was so fucking perfect that he had to grit his teeth and tighten his abs to stop himself from palming her tit right at that very moment. Fuck it—too late—his brain shifted into low gear while his body took over. His arm came down and it went exactly where he’d always wanted it—his fingers wrapped around her breast so tightly he felt her suck in a breath and sway against the wall. Oh, yeah, baby, her responses were perfect—she was like putty in his hands and he seriously doubted he could wait very much longer.

He would kiss her and remind her of the douchebag she wanted to get even with—but even as he had the thought, he changed his mind. Oh, hell no. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her thinking of another guy right now—not even once—not a single thought. When he plowed her,
and he would,
he wanted her focused on him. He wanted to be all she was thinking about, all she was capable of thinking about. With that dictate running through his mind, he lowered his head and kissed her, unable to wait another second before tasting her.

His lips landed on hers, and he thrust his tongue inside. He felt two things simultaneously when she immediately whimpered. Sexual heat smoldered down his spine as he felt the silk of her nipple under her clothes, and a punch of pleasure so strong that it felt almost addictive—as if he’d tasted his first sample of something that he’d never be able to get out of his head again. He didn’t know if he loved the feeling or hated it—but he knew he wasn’t about to give it up until he’d had it all.

With that in mind, he continued to kiss her breathless while he ran his thumb over and over her nipple, determined to send her senses into such a tailspin that she readily walked out of this place with him—he’d give it about thirty seconds.

She tasted sweet; he smothered her lips and sought out her tongue, dueling with it only to change tactic and begin sucking on it as he squeezed her nipple.

She gyrated against him and his brain shut down, her movements bringing a response in him that threatened to completely cut off his intelligence, leaving him nothing more than a feral animal.

He nipped at her, tasting the heat between her lips while his cock throbbed for her touch. He kissed her quickly and then slowly, the experience turning purely sensual as his heart beat in an erratic rhythm. He felt a shiver shake her and instinctively, he drew her closer into him, the scent and feel of her driving him wild.

Feeling out of control, he lifted his head, stared down at her, waiting for her eyes to open. She sucked in oxygen and his abs tightened in response. She licked her lips as if tasting him and he almost lost it. Finally, her eyelashes lifted and when her eyes tangled with his, he saw something in the light blue orbs that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover from.

He didn’t care, he’d deal with any fallout later.

For now, for this moment in time, she was his and that was all he cared about. “Let’s get out of here.”

His heart thudded while he waited for an answer. She seemed both hesitant and ready, if that made any sense at all. He just needed to get past whatever hang-up she had so he could do what he did best—with her. With this chick who was making the pulsing knot in his stomach clench into a ball of need.

When she looked like she was about to shake her head, his grip tightened and his tone turned challenging. “You know you want to.”

She lifted her chin as her eyes began sparkling.
Sparkling.
Seriously.
Fuck.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

The shifting of her body weight from one foot to the other was enough to tell him she wanted to be with him, but there was a hint of something in her eyes that said she was afraid.

Girl was smart that way—even he was questioning whether he’d be able to let her out of his bed after a single fuck. He wasn’t sure he could—already he was feeling a primal urge to maneuver her into lock down mode. So, he set out to alleviate whatever fear was holding her back because giving up at this point was untenable. “We can go to my place, or your place, or the Holiday Inn around the corner,” he soothed in a tone he didn’t altogether recognize.

“Not your place,” she responded quickly, telling him she wanted some control.

“Holiday Inn’s nice—you ever been?”

“My apartment is like, three miles away, so no, I’ve never been,” she answered with a strained voice.

“I’d love to go to your place sweetheart, but if you’d feel more comfortable on neutral territory, like I said, the Holiday Inn’s nice.” He held his breath and waited, his balls turning a deeper shade of blue by the second.

Finally, and much to his relief, she gave a simple nod of her head.

He waited not a second longer, he gripped her hand in his and turned on his heel to leave.

The parking lot was well lit as he began walking toward his bike. She balked and began tugging on her hand. The stroke of frustration he felt damn near alarmed him.
What the fuck?
What the hell was wrong with him tonight?

“I need my car—it’s over there.” She pointed as she continued to try to pull free.

Her words calmed him down a notch, just enough to let go of her hand, which was the last thing he wanted to do at this point. But as he trailed her toward her vehicle, he realized that he didn’t trust that she’d follow him to the hotel. Although he had no idea why exactly, he felt the need to at least nail down her phone number.