Slide (Black Addiction #1) (10 page)

“I. Am. Not.” It was the first time she yelled, her fists curled up by her side so tightly her knuckles were white.

“You angry?” I moved closer to her, my body towering over hers. She didn’t move.

“Yes, I am.” Her face red with freaking fury. Her tightly balled fists glued to her side as her back jacked her straight. Her shoulders squared off as she met my
eyeball
and matched it.

“Good, so get angry.” I brought my face in closer. If we weren’t in the middle of a heated discussion, I would have bent down and kissed her.

“I
am
angry,” she bit back, the fire burning in her eyes. Her body a contradiction as it fought to stay in place, her fight for control evident as her arms twitched by her sides.

“No, I mean really angry. Get that shit off the leash and let go.”

I wanted her angry; I wanted her furious because she deserved better. I wanted her to see she could fly off the handle. That she had a right to do that. Which is when I came up with another of my bright ideas. “I know, punch me.”

“What?” She pulled back in horror. “I can’t punch you.”

“Why, because you’re a girl? Save us both the time, girls can punch too.” My arms opened wide giving her access to my body, in case she thought it was some bullshit bluff.

“You’re crazy. I’m not punching you.” She pushed me back, my offer obviously not being taken seriously.

“One punch, Ali. It will make you feel better and I can take the hit. Get it out. C’mon. Let go.” It was going to take a lot more than a fucking shove to end this.

“No. I don’t want to do this. The whole idea is dumb. I’m not a freaking Neanderthal.” Another shove, this time a little harder. Still not what I was looking for.

“I said, punch me. Do it.” My hand grabbed hers, forcing her to thump my chest. To my disappointment it wasn’t anything more than a tap.

“Let me go, you’re being stupid.” She pushed me away, trying to fake to the right before going left. Not quick enough though, as my body got between her and the path to her bedroom. Our conversation and the exercise far from over.

I’m not sure why this shit was so important to me. Common sense should have kicked in by now, i.e. it wasn’t going to happen. But something inside me wouldn’t let it go. And I rarely disagreed with my gut. Which is why I went to the one place I knew would get her swinging like a champ.

“Well, I guess I can see why your boyfriend left you.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her urge to push me away or slip past me suddenly disappearing as her feet stayed glued to the floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes on me as they tried to make sense of what I was saying.

It killed me to take it there; to know what kind of ass I was being in saying those words. The ones I knew would hurt her but also set her free. The inevitable hurt minor compared to the relief she would get if she just fucking let go.

Time to go all in.

“Means if you fuck like you fight, he might as well be doing it solo.”

There was no lead up. No slow-mo fist flying toward me, no opened-handed slap bouncing across my jaw. All of which would have been acceptable. It was, after all, what I’d been begging her to do. What I hadn’t planned on, and therefore prepared myself for, was the punch right to my fucking balls.

BOOM, right to my nuts.

I dropped like a sack of shit.

My body got cozy with the floor as I rolled into a fetal position trying to breathe, my effort coming up short. Every muscle tensed as it tried to absorb the unimaginable pain ripping through me. The urge to puke so freaking strong I wasn’t sure I was going to keep it down. I couldn’t move, the blood roaring in my ears. Lights out would have been welcomed, but instead of going nite-nite, my brain and lungs checked out instead. The paralyzed meat bag that was my body, unable to do much more than cough out
fuck
a few times as I laid on the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Alison dropped to her knees beside me. At least I think it was her; it could have been the Virgin Mary coming to take what was left of my stones, but I wasn’t opening my eyes to check. “I’m sorry.”

It would have been good at this time to let her know it was okay, that I’d be fine and she didn’t have to worry. The problem was that forming sentences wasn’t happening—my mouth unable to multitask with the breathing and the talking. That, and I had no idea if I was actually okay.

“I’m sorry. What can I do?” Her hands moved to my back, as my face maintained its newfound relationship with the carpet.

“Just . . . give . . . me . . . a . . . minute.” The best I could do under the circumstances. The minute I was asking for was going to be more like an hour. Maybe longer. This floor was pretty impressive; lets just make it an even day.

Ten solid minutes. That’s how long it took before I was able to roll back into a sitting position and grunt more than “I’m fine” to every one of her “I’m sorry.” The pain slowly dulled to an ache.

“Rusty, I—”

“If you say sorry one more time, I’m going to punch
myself
in the balls. And neither of us wants to relive that, right?”

“Okay, but I feel terrible. Why the hell did you make me do that?” She sunk to her ass on the floor beside me.

“I said punch me, Alison, not clock me in the sack. In case you were wondering, huge difference.”

I tried to lift slightly off the floor. Nope, too soon. Guess I was going to be chilling a while longer.

“Can I get you anything?” Her hand resting on my thigh made my junk tingle. I wasn’t sure if it was from the trauma it had just suffered or something else. Maybe a little of both. Reassuring I guess that shit still worked down there.

“Nope, I’m just going to hang here for awhile. You good? Didn’t that make you feel better?”

“Feel better? No, I feel fucking worse.” She lifted her fist and popped me right in the arm.

“See, that’s what you should have done the first time.” I rubbed my arm, her hand barely leaving a mark. “If nothing else, at least now you are punching properly
and
you’re saying fuck, that’s an improvement. And the feeling good will come soon. Trust me.”

“Well, this lesson sucked.” She gave me another punch. The second a little bit harder than her last. The smile that came with it was really nice too.

“Anytime you want to stop would be good.” I chuckled, slowly rising to my feet. The pain not gone, just less noticeable. “I think I’m going to go piss blood or something. Say goodbye to my chance at having kids.” The smile she was wearing evaporated.

“Please tell me you’re not serious.” She got off the floor in a hurry, her legs straightening beside me.

“Relax, there will be little Rusty Crawford’s someday. The world didn’t get that lucky.”

“Your last name is Crawford?” Her head tilted to the side. I guess we’d never gotten to the full intro part. Sort of redundant now.

“Yeah, it’s not your last name too is it? ’Cause it would suck if we ended up being cousins.” She was definitely not kin. No branches of my family tree producing fruit like that—I was a hundred percent sure.

“No, it’s Williams.” The smile was back; the tension in her eyes easing a little too. “We probably should have done that a few days ago.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Look at all the fun we’re having.”

If I hadn’t just been clocked in the balls I might have said there was something there. She was beautiful and the way she was looking at me, kissing her would have been an easy thing to do. But she wasn’t here for that and I wasn’t going to be a jackass, even if my dick didn’t agree. It wasn’t about working the long game either. For the first time in a long time, I had no strategy when it came to a girl.

Well, shit. Looks like we both were learning new things.

Punching Rusty in the
man parts was not something I wanted to do. He provoked me. Got me so fired up, I had no idea what I was doing. My hand leapt from my side, where it was hanging idly, and of its own accord clocked him in his . . . uh-hum.

I felt terrible.

Honestly, who does that?

His version of getting a reaction out of me was not what either of us had planned, but unfortunately that’s how it went when I was around him, brain cells just got up and left. It wasn’t hard to understand why.

Rusty Crawford was hot. Not just hot, but smoldering sexy. You know the kind, where you are sitting there casually minding your own business and you suddenly smell smoke? Oh, look. My panties are on fire. That’s how hot Rusty was. Not that anything was ever going to happen. No. Of course not. We were just friends. Who also happened to be roommates. How lovely for us both.

After Rusty spent more than just a few minutes in the bathroom—God, I hope I didn’t do any permanent damage—he said a goodbye and went to the studio. He had work to do and I didn’t expect his plans to change because I was now sharing his living space, but part of me mourned the loss. Not because he was hot but because for the first time someone had actually looked beyond my layers and saw me.
Me
. It was both amazing and terrifying that a complete stranger seemed to know me better than I knew myself. That being around him made me feel excited. It was stupid. Absolutely made no sense, but here I was sad anyway.

Issues
was my middle name.

So rather than sitting around being unreasonably emotional—I was dangerously close to exceeding my limit on that—I unpacked. Look at me being productive. I was a regular modern marvel.

Moving hadn’t been hard. My tiny apartment had come furnished so packing took no time at all. It was comforting that my life was so easily boxed up. Small blessing I guess. While I lost whatever money I’d already paid on the month’s rent, I didn’t have to deal with my sleazy landlord. Oh, and I got my security deposit back too which meant I had—albeit limited—cash.

Another positive. See, no reason to be sad. Ugh. Rusty was right, I was a terrible liar.

By the time I had unboxed all my worldly belongings, and enjoyed a tasteless but strangely satisfying frozen TV dinner, it was already dark outside. Rusty hadn’t come back and I didn’t have any idea when he’d be home. The time ticked along so slow I ended up giving up and going to bed. Not the bed I wanted to be in either. Lord, it was going to be a long night.

It was some time later that night or early morning that I heard noises coming from inside the house. Sleep had obviously come at some point, but as I woke up from a weird, hazy dream I heard the distinct sound of . . . moaning?

Not loud enough for me to be sure, I jumped out of bed to investigate. Because obviously
that
was the smart thing to do in someone else’s house, at an unspecified hour of night.
Shut up logic, I’m curious
. And with as much stealth as I could muster I crept out of my dark bedroom and into the main living space.

Darkness.

Silence.

Maybe I dreamed it?

And just when I was about to turn around and give myself a firm talking to about my vivid imagination—and overactive hormones—I heard it again. Just as faint as the first time but this time more prolonged. Whoever it was,
she
was either in severe pain or extreme pleasure. Obviously I couldn’t go to bed now.

My feet tiptoed across the dimly lit living room as I followed the intermittent low moans, my ear straining as I tried to decipher the direction. Left—no right, the noise getting louder as my feet crept across the carpet. God, I hoped the floor didn’t squeak, the strains of her voice getting louder the closer I moved to the bathroom door. The location of Ms. Moan-a-lot no longer a mystery.

“Yeah baby, like that.” The voice spoke for the first time. “God, you are so good at this.” A louder audible moan followed soon after.
I guess we can safely rule out pain.

Pleasure it was then. While the door was closed I was able to draw my own conclusions. Rusty was obviously home and entertaining in his bathroom. How lovely. And by all accounts he sounded rather talented. Lucky her.

Whore.

I knew it wasn’t fair of me to call the poor lady a whore; after all I had no basis for my argument. Other than having parts of Rusty in her, she could have potentially been a lovely girl. Not that I cared. I was too busy hating her. Her constant screams of “yeah, baby” not doing her any favors either. I seriously needed to stop.

Because I apparently enjoyed listening to the man I had a serious lady-boner for pleasuring someone else, I pressed my ear to the door a little more. You know, in case I missed something important like the impending orgasm she was working up.

Issues. Major, major issues, and I had all of them.

My breath slowed while my heart rate increased as my illicit eavesdropping continued. The ecstasy-laden cries got louder and more frequent with each passing minute. Her encouragement was increasing too, with repeated
yeses
also thrown into the mix. She was certainly appreciative; at least she had that going for her. Not that she needed any approval from me, by the sounds of things she had her own positive reinforcement going on. Oh, and I still hated her.

The thunderstorm of moans was just about to reach its spectacular crescendo when I realized I wasn’t alone. I—standing in my faded
Marvel
pajamas that were too tight across the bust—turned my head to come face to face with the one and only Rusty Crawford.

Oh, shit.

Busted.

“Crap,” I whispered, my already accelerated pulse skyrocketed into the danger zone as I tried to rein in my breathing. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Late night call of nature?” He casually asked like he hadn’t just caught me listening in on someone else’s sexy time. The big grin on his face telling me otherwise.

“Um, yeah.” My eyes now fully adjusted to the dimness scanned him up and down. My heart rate elevated for an entirely different reason.

“So how are you finding the acoustics? They don’t build rooms like they used to.” Another smile. Not that I was paying much attention given he was wearing just shorts and no shirt. The streetlight that streamed through the drapes gave me just enough light to appreciate the view. That chest of his, just as impressive the second time around.

“Yeah, the sound really carries. Must be the high ceiling.” Sadly I didn’t stop there. “I thought it was you.” My mouth unwisely offered. Because listening hadn’t been bad enough, I had to volunteer that it was him I suspected getting jiggy with it.

“Nah, the bathroom poses too many hazards, slippery surfaces being what they are. Besides, I’ve got a perfectly good bedroom at my disposal.” A rational explanation, one I probably should have come up with myself.

It didn’t escape my attention that we were having a full conversation in front of his bathroom door. The occupants and their sexy antics no longer held my attention. Nor did I care if they heard us. Sort of tit-for-tat really, we’d heard them now they’d have to hear us.

“Oh, I don’t know. The chance of falling adds another element don’t you think? Like bungee jumping without the rope.” Seriously, who was I right now?

“Hmm. I see where you’re going with that. Though if you were going to attempt either of those two things I think bathroom sex is where your efforts should be. A rope-less jump isn’t going to end well.” His arm leaned up against the doorframe giving me an ever better view of his naked and toned torso. The Chinese dragon tattoo that featured grinning right back.

Gulp. Licking him right now would not be out of the question.

Pity it was completely inappropriate.

It would be, right?

“So who—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence about who was in the bathroom with the door flying open to reveal a very satisfied busty brunette and a tall, dark-headed rocker looking dude. His pants still undone at the fly.

“Hey, crazy bar chick. I heard you moved in, nice.” Rocker dude looked down at my pajamas or maybe it was my breasts, I couldn’t be sure. “Wow,
nerdy
crazy bar chick. You just keep getting hotter.”

Ummm. Huh?

While Rusty and I had been discussing the merits of bathroom sex and cathedral ceilings, rocker dude and his lady friend had received their happy ending. And while they had been rather taken with each other around twenty minutes ago, it seemed busty brunette had now turned her attention to Rusty while the object of her affection was now looking at me. Obviously, their super hot encounter not one to stand the test of time or exclusivity.

“Hey Rusty, you look great tonight.” Busty brunette ran her fingers over his chest. “You need anything, baby? Before I go.”

Did she just . . . after she just . . . No, surely I misunderstood.

“I’m good, Rochelle.” Rusty smirked without missing a beat. “Maybe next time.”

God, I hoped he wasn’t serious.

“So, you need me to tuck you in?” Rocker dude ignored the busty brunette/Rusty exchange, keeping his eyes on my boobs. The lack of bra not escaping his attention.

“I’m going to go with no. I mean you seem nice and everything but I’ve got the tucking in thing down and I’d hate for someone to mess with my system.” I didn’t add there also needed to be a cold day in hell. Rudeness wouldn’t solve anything at the moment.

“Hey, Joey. Not happening.” Rusty eyed him hard. “Say goodnight to Alison and leave the spare key on the coffee table. Alison, this is my drummer, Joey and his charming date is Rochelle. She’s . . .”

“I’m a stripper,” she finished off, her smile widening proudly.

“Wow, a stripper. I never would have guessed.” That rudeness I was trying to avoid wasn’t doing a good enough job being avoided. “Okay, it’s been awesome. Need to pee. Goodnight.” I took the three steps that were needed to get into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. The safety of four walls had never been such a welcomed relief, leaning against the wall in the dark.

“Bye, Alison,” Rocker dude, Joey, called through the door. “See you soon.”

Not too soon I hope,
my mind churned out with my mouth going the diplomatic route of “Uh-huh, yep you too.” Whatever that meant.

The voices soon shifted away from the bathroom as I sat on the closed toilet, the need to pee fabricated. Rusty’s front door slamming was hopefully a sign that the company had left.

“Alison?” The knock at the door had me leaping off the toilet, almost hitting the tub. Rusty was right; bathroom sex would be difficult. The counter would be the only viable spot, which is why I was avoiding touching it. At least until I could get my hands on some Clorox.

“Yeah almost done.” I hit the flush as I went through with the charade. Next came the water running. No need for him to know I was actually hiding out.

“All yours.” I stood proudly in the now open doorway.

He didn’t answer. Instead he moved closer, his eyes completely unreadable. Pity my mind had decided bathroom sex wasn’t an option. That had been hasty, not at all smart.

“Joey had a spare key, he crashed here a couple of days last week but that won’t be happening anymore.”

Problem here was that even though those words weren’t even close to being sexy, they were sending tingles to parts of me that had no business tingling. I was still amazed my ill-fitting pajamas hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Damn, I really should have slept with him when I had the chance.

“I’m going back to bed.” The mouth that had been playing mute while I eye-fucked him
finally
got on the same page.

And while part of me wanted to wait and see if he’d stop me, the smarter part—
the one hopefully running the show right now
— knew that would be dangerous. As would be standing there any longer, which is why no sooner had I announced my departure that I turned my happy self around and retreated to my bedroom. Alone.

Knowing Rusty hadn’t been in that bathroom filled me with more happiness than it should have. He wasn’t dating me so was free to see other people, but because he was allowed to didn’t mean I wanted him too. It didn’t get more irrational than that.