Page 28 of F*cking Shattered

I scoff. “Hardly.”

“Well then my nearly naked appearance shouldn’t bother you.” He raises his arms, placing them behind his head, elevating him enough to watch TV.

His scent washes over me again, strong and powerful. I breathe it in deeply, letting it take me back to that first night in the alley. I think about the way he held me firmly in his hands, the way he’d drilled into me hard and forceful, his cocky grin that pisses me off and turns me on at the same time, and I can feel the wetness pooling between my thighs.

I keep my eyes on the TV, refusing to do anything about my urges. There is seriously something wrong with me. I’ve never wanted a guy this much. Even the guys I dated before didn’t have this much control over me with something as simple as their presence.

My heart pounds wildly in my ears and my flesh becomes sticky as my blood pressure rises, but I don’t dare look at him.

I let out a long breath. “I need a drink.” I cover my eyes with my forearm.

“Lucky for you I don’t go anywhere without my flask.” He stands and reaches into his bag. He pulls out the shiny metal flask and uncaps it. He takes a drink before handing it over. As I’m lying on my side, I prop my head up with my hand and take a drink. The warm alcohol pours into my mouth, burning its way down. It sets in my belly, warming it even more.

In an attempt to talk to keep my mind off what his body is doing to mine, I say, “I know nothing about you. Where are you from? Where do you work?”

He takes the flask and takes a sip. “I’m from New York. I just moved to the city about a month ago. In New York, I was in advertising, but I hated it. It was suffocating.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks at me and thinks it over for a minute. “Did you ever hear the saying, leave your work at work?”

“Of course.”

“That wasn’t possible with advertising. It was all I thought about. All day at work we would create ads and try to figure out how to market whatever product we were working on. But when I was off work, all I saw was advertising. Most people tend to overlook the billboards, the posters plastered all over the walls of the subway, the advertisements on the sides of buses, but I couldn’t. When I saw an ad, I wondered who created it, what made them think up that concept, how I could make it better. It was exhausting.”

“I can honestly say that I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Exactly. I worked myself to the bone and for what? So people like you could totally overlook all my hard work.”

“I’m sorry,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“No. I didn’t mean it like that. It was all just too impersonal. Everyone was doing the same things. It was like one person would come up with a good concept, and when everyone saw how well it was working, they would copy it. It just wasn’t worth the annoyance anymore.”

“So what? You just packed your bags and moved to California?”

He nods. “Basically. I wanted to get out of New York. I wanted to find myself, I guess.”

“And have you found yourself?” I look up to meet his dark eyes.

“I’m starting to.” His face is serious, but he has an easiness about him.

“How old are you, River?”

“Twenty-five,” he answers.

“I’m only twenty-three, and I think you’re already doing way better than I am. I haven’t even had a career yet.”

He looks deep into my eyes, causing my heart to jump up to my throat. “Why not? What did you go to college for?”

I take the flask from his hand and take another sip as I shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what I want to do. I was the same way when I graduated high school, so I never went to college. What are you planning on doing since you’re giving up advertising?”

He thinks it over for a quick second. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a plan when I moved here. I just want to find something that I love to do, something that won’t slowly steal pieces of my soul.”

Our eyes are locked together and my lips part with my heavy breathing. He looks down at my mouth before wetting his lips. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his soft, hot mouth to mine.

With the closeness of our conversation, I can’t deny him what he’s demanding. I simply can’t. I don’t know why, but despite all my earlier reserve, I want to give him all of me.

I tangle my fingers into his wet, blond hair and pull it gently while his lips and tongue move with mine. He rolls towards me, placing his hand on my jaw, his long fingers wrapping around the back of my neck as he holds me to him.

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