Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2)

© 2014 JESSICA HAWKINS

www.JESSICAHAWKINS.net

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Elizabeth London Editing

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edit by
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Night Call (Night Fever Serial, #2)

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

Lola had not had time to think ahead to this moment. She’d never been much of a planner—a fact she’d even prided herself on. Lately she’d been wondering if she’d been wrong, though. She could’ve set aside some money to start a class or two at the local community college. Or tried harder to find a better job than waitressing at Hey Joe. Maybe then she wouldn’t be standing here, about to face her boyfriend of nine years after sleeping with another man for money. All so they’d have a shot at a decent future.

Not just another man. A man who’d seen her on a sidewalk and specifically picked her. He was drawn to her, he’d said—she was a prize, waiting to be claimed by him. At the time, she hadn’t known what he’d meant by that. Now she did. It hadn’t taken long for her to give in to her attraction to him, but it had to go away now. As if it were a mask she’d slipped on for one night. Or was it that she was putting one back on?

She’d been seduced. She’d been claimed. And then she’d been returned to her doorstep. He wasn’t just another man—that was Beau Olivier.

Behind the eggshell-colored door with a brass number six nailed to it, Johnny waited. Johnny and her new life with him. Lola sucked in cool, early-morning air and flushed hot, tainted breath out with her exhale. Apartment six was on the ground floor, just through the gate and within steps of a mold-rimmed pool. All she had to do was turn the key and go home. That, and forget Beau.

The normally finicky lock gave her little resistance. It was dark in the apartment. Thick. Suffocating. Had it always been that way? She opened the shades. Johnny lay lengthwise on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest. She went and stood over him.

She hadn’t thought of Johnny as much as she should’ve while she was with Beau, but when she had, she’d envisioned him anxiously waiting for her, driving himself slightly insane. Apparently she’d been wrong. If she’d been any later than sunrise, which was when Beau had promised to return her, Johnny might not’ve even known. She didn’t think it was much to ask that after what she’d done for him, Johnny make sure she arrived home safely and on time.

She dropped her purse near his head, and he woke with a start. “Shit—Lola?” He blinked up at her rapidly as if she were an apparition. “Is it over?”

She offered her palms. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He rubbed his eyes and got up on an elbow, tossing the pillow aside. “I’m—I must’ve fallen asleep. Sorry.”

She picked up an empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the floor. “You drank the rest of this by yourself?”

“When I got home from Mark’s.”

“Mark’s?” she repeated, unsure she’d understood him. There’d been no discussion of him doing anything other than coming straight home from work. She hadn’t even thought it was necessary. “You went out last night?”

“As opposed to sitting here and thinking about what you were doing? Yeah. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“When did you get home?” Lola shook her head. She didn’t have the energy to argue at the moment. “Never mind. I don’t even care.”

“Are you mad?” he asked. “What was I supposed to do? I’m sorry if—wait, how am I the one apologizing?”

“Why would either of us apologize?” Her tone dropped to a warning level. “Surely you don’t expect me to.”

Johnny shut his eyes, leaned back against the couch and ran both hands over his face. “No,” he said, sighing. “That’s not what I meant. I’m still buzzed. Just give me a minute to wake up.”

“Take a few. I’ll be in the shower.”

He peeked at her through his fingers. “You haven’t showered?”

Beau had been so adamant about getting her back by sunrise, it was almost as if he hadn’t wanted her to shower. And now she had to stand in front of Johnny, thoroughly worked over by Beau. Even from a distance, Beau exercised his control over them. Her throat was suddenly thick. “There wasn’t time.”

She had to walk away. It would hurt Johnny to see her get upset since she so rarely did. They both had enough to deal with as it was. “If you want to talk, get coffee ready. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my eyes open.”

She went directly for the bathroom and turned the shower on hot. The night had been a flash of lightning. Intense, blinding, crackling—and over before she could even blink. One moment the life-changing decision to sleep with Beau weighed heavily on their shoulders. Now, it was done. Had it changed her life? How could it not have?

She and Johnny knew each other better than anyone. Years ago, he’d taken a chance on her. Burly, gruff, but kind-hearted Johnny. He didn’t have to put up with the lost girl Lola used to be, because women liked him. He could’ve had his pick. Lola partied too hard and had little regard for anyone—even herself. Even Johnny. But he’d believed she could be better. Johnny didn’t deserve for Lola to be standing in the shower, her mind drifting away from him.

Drifting to Beau, to his hands, cock and mouth between her legs. His forbidden words in her ear. He liked her tight. He liked her helpless on her hands and knees. He liked her with a red ass. And he was everywhere on her.

She shouldn’t have been thinking of any of that. Johnny was in the next room. She was being torn in different directions. The last twelve hours came down on her at once. Big, hot tears mingled with the stream of water. She’d betrayed Johnny with more than just her body—in ways she would’ve never expected possible in just a night. And despite herself, she missed Beau already.

He wanted a second night, but that was greedy. He’d taken too much already and without apology. How much more could she open herself up to?

The bathroom door creaked. She turned to face the wall, wiping her cheeks. “I won’t be long.”

There was no response. After a shuffle, Johnny turned her by her shoulders and hugged her to his naked chest. It was all she needed for the tears to flow.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“No. I’m just tired.”

“Promise me.”

She looked up at his tone. In his face was a shadow of how worried he’d been. “He didn’t,” she said. “Promise.”

He ran a hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry, babe. It was a lot to ask of you.”

She returned her cheek to his chest and nodded. “It’s done, though. Over.” She almost told him it was okay to feel angry. Selfishly, that would make it easier for her to be angry. But she felt very much like a house of cards that couldn’t take any more weight without collapsing. Later would be a better time for them to get angry.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“Not being afraid to touch me.”

“How could I be? You’re my girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

She almost rose up to kiss him but was afraid he’d pull away. “Please go make coffee,” she said, separating from him.

He left the shower. She didn’t cry again. She soaped her breasts, behind her ears, under her feet. All the parts Beau had touched. Everywhere. She was owned, just like he’d promised. She rubbed between her legs a little longer than necessary—one second comforting that unfulfilled ache, the next trying to make it stop. Only an hour earlier, Beau had been inside her. She couldn’t come, not so in between Beau and Johnny. Her mind and body had been there with Beau, but her heart knew Johnny was minutes away. She wished she’d just been able to fucking come, because now Beau’s ache might never go away. She turned off the water.

Johnny returned to wrap her in a towel. He dried her off and patted her hair. “There’s coffee in the living room.”

She kept the towel around her, and they went to the couch. Johnny sat at one end while she curled her knees to her chest at the other. He was patient while she sipped from the mug.

“I think maybe it’s best I don’t go into details,” she said.

“That bad?” he asked.

“It’s just, I’ve heard some couples do that. After affairs or whatever. Seems stupid to me. Like asking for trouble.”

He nodded, looking into his coffee, thinking. “All right. Last thing I want is to make things harder on either of us.” He looked up. “But you were safe? Were you scared?”

“In the beginning a little. He took me to Rodeo Drive—”

“Seriously?”

“Only because I couldn’t go in jeans. To the fundraiser, I mean—the event I texted you about. But being around all those people actually made things better. It didn’t feel like such a dirty secret.”

He coughed. “About that last text. I’m sorry. It was selfish of me. I’d already had a drink—”

She glanced up from her coffee. “Text?”

“You didn’t read my response?”

She shook her head. “He took my phone away.”

“What do you mean he took it away?”

“He had a very particular way of doing things. He didn’t like me mentioning your name. When he found out I’d texted you, he took my phone.”

“So basically he’s a complete dick.”

She looked at her handbag. Johnny’s last request the night before had been that she not kiss Beau. Had the text been about that? Or had it been something even bigger—maybe an apology that they’d decided to go through with this at all?

“What’d it say?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just continue. Where’d you go after the event?”

His face was red, as if he were embarrassed by the text. She hesitated, but decided not to pursue it. She would read it later. “After? We went for a nightcap. There’s this insane, secret speakeasy on Sunset—”

“Heard of it,” he said. “Don’t know anyone who’s been, though.”

“It wasn’t anything,” she said, shrugging too hard in an attempt to seem convincing.