The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (87 page)

“Are you drinking?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.

Feelings. Friendship. More.

He needs alcohol.

I glance back up to catch the quick shake of his head.

“I’m all right.”

“You came to a bar and you’re not going to drink?”

He stares at me, his eyes slowly moving over my face, then down the line of my body. “You look lovely, Brooke. Stunning, really. Has any man told you that today?”

“Um . . .” I inhale a shaky breath. “Today? No. Not today.”

“Shame. I should’ve said something earlier. I was thinking it. In the alley . . . when I came to your work. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I still can’t.”

“In the alley.” I clear my throat. Hair clings to the base of my neck. I’m burning up. “I liked the alley.”

God, I loved the alley.

Mason eyes me for a moment, then reaches out and takes the drink out of my hand. He sets it on the bar and stands, pulling out his wallet. “Go for a ride with me, yeah? I’ll bring you back here. I just . . . I want to talk to you and drive around the city. I’ve been thinking about doing that.” He throws some cash down, tucks his wallet back into his pocket, and grabs my hand.

With a gentle tug, I’m on my feet.

“You’re taller tonight,” he observes, smiling down at my shoes. “I recognize those.”

I grab my clutch off the bar. “And you’re a bit bossy.”

His brow pulls together. He looks charmingly confused.

I fight the urge to smile as I explain. “I never agreed to go for a ride with you. You did that adorable little ‘yeah’ thing and took my drink away. Were you even going to wait for my answer? Maybe I’m not ready to leave. Maybe I want to finish my very coconuty drink and spend some time with my mates. Ever think about that?”

I think he wants to smile. I believe I see a slight twitch in his mouth, but he covers it immediately, or I’m simply imagining things.

Am I not as funny as I think I am?

“I’m sorry.” He drops my hand. His eyes roam the room. “Right. That was a bit bossy of me. Would you rather we stay here? I thought a drive would be nice. I’ll be able to hear you better. I’d like to hear you.”

A strange tightness pulls at my chest.

Shit. Even in his high-handedness, his intentions are sweet.

“It’s fine. We can . . .”

A body bumps against my back. I brace myself with a hand to Mason’s chest to keep myself from falling. His grip holds tight on my waist, tighter as I slowly lift my head to look at him. I turn to get a glance at the creep who shoved me into this tall piece of manly deliciousness.

I should thank them.

Paul sways on his feet behind me. He’s clearly intoxicated.

Whatever. I don’t hold any ill-will toward any of the men I’ve slept with. I’m sure him knocking into me was purely accidental. No doubt brought on by the alcohol. Look at him. He can barely stand.

He grabs the bar to steady himself, grinning wildly. “Brooke! Funny . . . funny seeing you again, isn’t it? God, I really didn’t think that was you.”

He didn’t think that was me? I just saw him a few days ago. How drunk is this guy?

“Uh, yeah, it’s me. Small world.” I push against Mason’s chest. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Paul keeps going.

“I thought . . . nah, that’s not Brooke. No way! She should be hanging on a street corner.”

I whip my head around. “
Excuse me
.”

“A street corner.” Paul leans closer, tilting his head with a sneer. “You know. Like a whore.”

My body goes rigid. Mason tenses behind me.

Paul, you stupid fucking idiot. You asked for this.

MASON

“You know. Like a whore.”

Brooke inhales a quick breath. Her eyes go round, taking up the majority of her face.

The fuck did he just say?

I move to get closer to this piece of shit, putting myself in front of Brooke. “Hey, fuck off, mate.”

His head jerks up, his eyes rapidly blinking me into focus. He’s barely keeping himself upright. One hand is flat on the bar, the other is clutching the stool Brooke was just occupying.

He’s so tanked he’ll probably end up falling over soon.

“No.” Brooke darts a hand out and grabs my arm, halting me. “No, let me.” She steps in front of the bastard. “I’m sorry, Paul. What exactly makes me a whore? Was it the fact that I had sex with you the other night, which I’m now suddenly regretting, or was it that you got your pathetic little feelings hurt when I didn’t want to cuddle after?” Her hand flies to her hip. “Are you sad because I didn’t want to go for round two? Is that it? Is that why you look like shit right now, Paul?”

Jesus. Brooke and this tosser? This is not some shit I want to hear about.

Paul drops his head, shaking with silent laughter. “You fucked like a whore. What chick bails right after gettin’ laid like that?”

“What guy turns into a preteen and cries about it? You’re lucky I even went home with you. I had plenty of other options that night.”

“Yeah . . . I bet you did.” He slouches closer, his eyes gleaming. “Whore.”

I move without any thought behind it, getting up in his face, jamming his body against the bar.

“Speak to her like that again and I’ll put you through a fucking window, yeah?”

A small hand wraps around my elbow. “Mason.” Brooke tugs my arm, but I keep the bastard pinned.

Just knowing he’s been with Brooke is enough to provoke me. Hearing him speak to her like that . . . I’m not a violent guy, but I’m suddenly feeling like I could be. I could beat the piss out of this wanker and not feel any remorse. Not a shred.

His head rolls left, then right, his eyes slowly drifting closed. “Mm. Hit me. Go ahead. I-I don’t give a s-shit.”

He’s slurring his words now. He can barely stand.

I don’t need to hit him.

I swiftly back away. He isn’t expecting that. Eyes wide, his feet slide out from under him and he collapses into a drunken heap on the floor, limbs sprawled like a rag doll, head slumped back against the bar. His eyes pinch shut through a groan, then he slowly topples over until he’s laid out between the stools.

A big bloke moves through the crowd and steps in front of me, crouching down to grab Paul.

“Let’s go, buddy. You’ve been cut off.”

I turn to Brooke, then notice the eyes on us, the crowd that’s gathered behind her who I’m certain heard every bit of that conversation, including the cruel words that fucker had to say. Brooke notices them too, her eyes darting quickly around the room, then dropping to a spot between us.

Her shoulders pull forward, and she lowers her head, hiding behind her hair. She suddenly appears smaller.

She’s embarrassed. Maybe a bit hurt. It’s hard to tell when I can’t see her face.

“Hey.” I lift her chin with my hand. “You all right?”

She hesitates for a second, just staring up at me through those impossibly thick lashes as she slowly exhales. Her hand gently presses against my hip. I slide a bit closer, moving my fingers along her jaw and just fucking stare at her.

Christ, she is quite possibly the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on.

Her hair is falling out around her in dark curls, covering her delicate neck. She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve seen her in up until this point, but fuck, she doesn’t need it. The way she looked in my class the other day, her skin glowing from exertion, clean and sweaty, that Brooke has me.

Finally after taking in a deep breath, she nods slightly, just a jerk of her chin. “Yeah . . . yeah, I’m fine, but can we go? I’d really like that ride now.”

I grab her hand and we melt into the crowd.

Tipping my head in the direction of the table Brooke’s friends are at, I let them know we’re getting out of here while she stays close to my side. It’s a brief farewell. Brooke tugging on my hand has me getting her out of there before any of them have a chance to ask us what happened. She clearly doesn’t want to linger. I’m not interested in making her stay. Besides, I’d rather have her alone.

We’re out the door, her small hand in mine as we walk along the footpath. The sky is free of clouds, a clear blue scene speckled with stars and a bold moon hanging low.

Brooke pulls her hand back after a few seconds and wraps her arms around herself.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

The air has a slight chill to it, but I think it’s tolerable. She’s not wearing much, though. Her arms could be cold.

She shakes her head, keeping her gaze in front of her.

“I’m just up here on the left.” I tug my keys from my pocket. “The white Denali.”

“Asshole.”

“What’s that?” I turn my head, staring at her rigid profile.

“That guy. Paul. Calling me a whore because I only wanted to hook-up with him.” She breathes a laugh. “Seriously? It’s a fucking double standard. Just because I’m a woman who loves sex I’m automatically labeled a whore? What about men?”

I open the passenger door for her and she climbs inside, securing her seatbelt.

“Men can fuck anything with a pulse and women will actually find that attractive. The whole player vibe. It’s hot. It gets them so much ass,” she continues after I get in on the driver’s side. “But if a woman enjoys sex and goes out to get laid, she’s a whore. Why? What the hell is the difference?”

I run a hand through my hair after starting up the car. My fingers quickly dial down the volume on the stereo. I only want to hear her.

“Well?” She angles her body in the seat, waiting for my response.

I rub my jaw. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to answer that question, Brooke.”

“Why not? You’re a man.”

“Yeah, but I’m not running around sticking my cock into everything with a pulse.” I catch her smile as I glance over before pulling out onto the street. “I think you’re right, though. You should be able to do what or who you want.”

“Exactly.”

“He was wrong . . . saying that to you. I’m sorry that happened.”

I’m sorry I didn’t knock him on his arse before he said it a second time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Brooke watching me as I drive us into the city.

“Were you going to punch him? You looked ready to punch him.”

“I 
felt
 ready to punch him.” My hand curls around the wheel.

“Have you ever hit anyone? You don’t really seem like the violent type. Yoga master who uses organic toothpaste. You probably recycle too.”

I turn my head. She shrugs impassively, twirling the ends of her hair around her finger.

“Well, I’m usually not threatening to toss people through windows,” I chuckle. “But, I did get into a few brawls when I was younger. Nothing major. Some neighborhood kids pissed me off and I went after them.”

“Majahhh. I love how you say certain words.”

I give her a quick wink.

“Why did you go after those kids?” she asks, her voice lifting to a mischievous pitch.

Even in the dark, I know this little devil is smiling.

“Did they steal your koala?”

I gape at her. Her quiet laugh fills the car. “Is that what you Americans think? That we keep those nasty little buggers as pets? They’ll claw your eyes out the second you get close enough.”

“Would they? But they’re so cuddly looking.” She hugs herself. “And so, so cute.”

“Cute. Right. Real bloody cute. I had one nearly take my head off when I was trying to pet it at the zoo once. I was only eight. That mangy bastard scarred me for life.”

“Oh, so it’s just your 
opinion
 that they’d make horrible pets,” Brooke chuckles again. “Look at you. Giving those sweet things a bad name over here. I bet you were just a little wanker and pissed him off.”

She smiles, all big and clever, clearly pleased with herself for using that word correctly.

I relax against my seat. It feels good talking to her like this. Easy, unhurried conversation. The delightful sound of her laugh. Her sweet dimpled face against the backdrop of the city.

I want this drive to last all night.

“Was there a bunch of you? Maybe the cute, gentle, completely innocent and non-threatening koala didn’t like crowds.”

We stop at a red-light. I shrug, looking over at her.

“The zoo was crowded, yeah. It was me and my mates, a few others gathered around. I don’t know. I’ve tried to forget about the day a koala went psychotic on me. I had nightmares for months. Surprised I didn’t need therapy after that.”

She slaps at my arm. I grab her hand before she can pull away and lace my fingers through hers, resting our joined hands together on the console. I haven’t held her like this yet. I’ve wanted to all night, in my studio, on the footpath that first day. My hand practically engulfs hers. She feels a bit tense. Her nails, dark as the night, tap restlessly against my skin.

She stares down between us, biting at her bottom lip.

“So . . . I’m guessing you aren’t a fan of kangaroos either? Did one chase you down the street or something? Kick you around a little?”

I grin, giving a gentle squeeze to her hand. She’s not pulling away.

Bit of a shock. I was expecting some resistance.

I press down on the accelerator and ease through the intersection.

“Nah. I never had a problem with kangaroos. Although, there have been some cases of rogue ones attacking people. The mums can be vicious.”