Page 25 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
Chapter Nine
Her taste lingered on my tongue long after I left. Everything in me cried out to stay, to crawl into bed with her and wrap myself around her, to sink into that warm, wet heat that even now haunted my every thought.
I saw the question in her eyes as I stood there, entranced with the sight of her laying replete and sleepy in the wake of her orgasm. She didn’t voice it, though, and I wasn’t sure what I would have said if she did. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to see.
One month. Just friends.
The club lights blared ahead, and I could almost feel the beat of the music as it sang through the concrete walls in a carefully cultivated and effective illusion designed to mesmerize people and draw them in. The lights, the sound, the promise of drowning out regret acted as a siren song for the lost and lonely.
Lost is exactly how I felt tonight. Unmoored and adrift in the mess of my life.
I pulled up to the valet and dropped my keys in the hands of the nearest uniformed kid with a prayer that he knew how to handle manual and wouldn’t fuck up the transmission.
I drove one of my favorite cars tonight, a 1968 Acapulco Blue Mustang, only beaten out for the top spot by the Bronco. My grandpa bought this Mustang fresh off the line and obsessively cared for it ever since. Saturday afternoons spent in the garage watching him tinker with it were some of my favorite memories. It was the only time I saw him do manual labor.
When he finally let me drive it for the first time, the roar of the engine under me, the feel of the leather seats, the thrill of speed hooked me immediately. Driving this car erased every worry I had.
Except tonight.
Tonight, it was little more than transportation. No amount of time behind the wheel cleared my head.
That was where the Purple Haze came in. A buddy from school owned the club, and it always delivered on wasted time and blurry nights.
The bouncer, Jack, let me pass without waiting, much to the outrage of several men in the line that wrapped around the building and reeked of cologne. I slipped him a generous tip. His wife was expecting, and I knew they could use the help.
The door closed behind me, cutting off the indignant cries of men denied entry. I would have felt bad if not for the slurs that he threw right as the door closed. I knew I had everything handed to me. I hadn’t earned anything.
Well, except that Navy Cross that sits in the velvet boxon my dresser at home, but the cars, the suits, the penthouse, all of it was given to me. I hated it. Usually, I hated myself for it all, too. Tonight was no exception.
I licked my lips, the taste of Lily greeting my tongue. Her moans echoed in my ears. My scalp still stung where she gripped my hair. All of it was seared into me like a brand, one that labeled me as Lily’s.
Except, I fucking wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t mine, and I needed to erase the whole thing before it consumed me.
I wasn’t going to survive.
One month. Just friends.
Fuck.
I marched over to the bar, the crowd parting for me as I went and bought a bottle of their best. Women watched me everywhere I looked, their eyes dragging over my rumpled hair and fine clothing. I could see them calculating my worth and salivating at what they found. Lily wouldn’t?—
I took a swig straight from the bottle. I didn’t even register the taste, only the burn, hoping it would erase… everything. I spotted a woman at the end of the bar that looked promising and stalked toward her, watching as she traced my form, her pupils dilating in a way I knew well.
She was a tall redhead.
I told myself it meant nothing.
“Drink with me?” I asked as I held up the large bottle in my hands. She hesitated like she would say no, but I knew she wouldn’t. No one ever did. No one ever kicked me out, left me hanging hard and wanting. Except my fucking self.
I threw back another drink. My muscles relaxed, and the room took on that glow that promised a good night.
I turned on my most charming smile as I passed the bottle to her. People always responded well to the small quirk at the corner of my mouth, like it meant anything,like it was real.
She fell for it. Women always did. Except?—
It was almost too easy how they fell into my arms and practically begged me to love them.
Duke!Lily’s voice begged.
