Page 2 of Play With Me

I heard those words echo in my mind until the last beat of my heart stole the life inside me.

Chapter 1

Brook: Six years later - New York

Truth? Every woman I’d ever fucked, I’d met at a bar, and it didn’t look like tonight would be an exception. I eyed the Twizzler candy in the gorgeous brunette’s drink and wondered whether she was as twisted as the stick. The nutty ones were the best. They didn’t tend to stick around.

I admired the path of her toned arm to the defined shoulder. She looked good in a tank dress. Very fucking good. It hugged every salacious curve of her body. Her ass spilled over the round stool underneath her, and the belt around her small waist was so tight it cut into her flesh. I sat down beside her and felt her presence immediately overwhelm me.

“Is your daddy Willy Wonka?” I asked.

The woman set the glass aside and turned in her seat to face me. I usually judged well from behind, but I wasn’t prepared to be stunned. Few women in my life shocked me.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked whether your daddy is Willy Wonka, because you look delicious.” The words didn’t come out as funny as they’d sounded in my mind. It was that damn Twizzler in her drink. Who mixes alcohol and candy?

“Actually, my dad’s dead,” she replied, her voice void of any emotion.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I never met him. Use another one.”

“Use another one what?”

Her request threw me off guard, and I wondered how much she’d had to drink. Judging from the clear liquid in her glass, not much.

“Another pick-up line. The way I’m feeling tonight, it might work.”

I felt my lip lift and instantly decided that I liked her. My dick definitely liked her because it had been growing in my pants since the moment I’d laid eyes on her ass. My crotch was beginning to feel confined.

“How about I buy you a drink instead?”

“I already have one.” She pointed to her glass.

“What are you drinking?”

“Gin and tonic.”

Why would she need a cheesy pick-up line if she was drinking? Which I knew she wasn’t. A stray drop had lingered on her lip since she pulled the straw away from her mouth. Since I was a man in dire need of forgetting his woes, I decided to play her game.

“All right. Here’s another. If I were blind, I would still know you’re beautiful.”

Intrigue flashed in her eyes.

“Better?” I asked after a moment, and waited until she breathed again. After she exhaled, she shamelessly checked me out, nodded that she liked what she saw, and popped her bubble gum. When she used her tongue to remove the stray goo that had stuck to her lip, I was totally gone. She had my full attention, and that was not an easy task.

“So, what happened to your dad?”

“He was shot in an alley when my mother was pregnant. You have a fascination with daddies or something?”

“No. You mentioned that he died. I was just curious what happened. Losing a family member can be traumatic.”

I knew that better than anyone. When you lost someone, it felt like a rope had been permanently tied around your neck, on the tougher days tightening its hold, teasing with death that would never come. Death would have been easier than the constant grief and pain; unless, that was, you had someone else to live for. My someone might have been a sassy six-year-old, but she was my everything. She kept me moving forward.

The brunette burst out in laughter. This woman wasn’t just beautiful. She was crazy.

And stunning. Don’t forget stunning.

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