Strike (3 page)

Relationship? What the fuck am I talking about? Jones doesn’t
do
relationships. I just fuck. Then I move on, and fuck someone else. It’s common knowledge. I don’t even think I’d know what to do with a more permanent fixture than a one-night stand. There’d be getting groceries and shopping for bed linen and crap. I don’t know how to do any of that mundane shit with someone else. But talking with April—I could do that. Over and over. Maybe with all that talking, I’d get her into bed. Damn, that’d be something else.

“Let me fix up the bill, then,” I offer. Before she gets the chance to protest, I move to the counter to pay. I snatch a napkin from the bar and borrow a pen from the waitress to write down my number. I fold the napkin and put it in my pocket.

I turn to walk back to our table, and my feet glue to the ground. I’m pretty sure my jaw is hanging loose, but I don’t care. In a pair of tight black ripped jeans, April is out of her chair and bent over, giving me prime ogling position of the gap at the top of her thighs. Jesus, that is a mighty fine arse.

And yes, she’s wearing boots. Black motorcycle boots. She stands up and slips on a black leather jacket and flicks her long hair from the collar. Looping her leather satchel over her head, she bends down again and picks up a helmet.

Holy sweet mother of God. She rides.

She’s gonna wrap those sexy lean legs around a bike. Now I’m instantly jealous. If only I could morph into a bike and she could ride
me
home. Damn it, if I’m ever gonna get that image out of my head.

April turns and struts towards me, her eyes burning a trail from my head to my toes and back up again. Her winning smile causes an irregular thump in my chest as we stand almost eye-to-eye. Thank Christ I’m a couple of inches taller. I’ve at least got something over her.

“Thank you. I would have paid but you ran over there like a man possessed. Good to see you didn’t go all exorcist and vomit everywhere.”

Unable to stop myself, I let out a hearty chuckle. She’s right, I did. But I needed a way to get my number down. I can’t let her leave until she has it.

“I promise, not a drop of green spew in sight. Come on, I’ll walk you to your bike
.
”

She laughs, and I follow her out onto the street. When she walks beside my Range Rover, I move her up against it and tenderly kiss her soft lips. At first her body stiffens, but when I suck at her bottom lip and glide my tongue into her welcoming mouth, she sighs and melts in my arms. I slip the napkin into her jacket pocket and weave my hand around her small waist, pulling her close. If I ask for her number again and she says no, I don’t know what I’d do. Beg maybe? Surely she’ll call me. She has to. But I can’t make her. Hopefully this kiss will give her enough of a reason to.

I take my time, savouring the heat of her mouth and the sweet restraint with which she kisses me back. All too soon she breaks away and smooths her hand over my chest, but I want more. More of her touch. I take a step back, giving her space.

“I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, Spencer, but I would’ve thought generally you’d wait for an invitation,” she says softly, her brows pulled together. Is she pissed off or is she still making up her mind about me? I’ve got no clue.

“Sorry … you wouldn’t give me your number, and I’ve been staring at those lips since I sat down. It would’ve driven me crazy to let you walk away without a taste.”

“Crazy?” She raises an eyebrow, and puts her free hand on her hip. Her other hand still grips her helmet.

I nod. “Certifiable.”

“Ha, well, I might see you around. You never know your luck in the big city.”

“Would I see you around here? The food’s good, surely that’ll bring you back.”

Christ. How desperate do I sound? Trying to use the food as a way to lure her back.
Well done, dickhead.

“There may be something else to bring me back, but we’ll see.”

She slides a twenty-dollar note into my shirt pocket, running her nail over my nipple. She did that on purpose for sure. At least, that’s what my dick’s telling me, twitching for my attention.

“Thanks for the company. See ya round, Spencer.”

“I certainly hope so, April.” I watch her walk across the street to her bike. But not just any bike: a Suzuki Bandit 1250. It’s black and sleek, and with her on top it’ll be the sexiest set of wheels I’ve ever had the pleasure of ogling. And I’ve seen my fair share of bikes.

She straddles the bike, and flicks her hair over her shoulder before putting on and fastening her black helmet. She starts the bike with a roar, and salutes in my direction before tearing off down the street.

Fuck. Me. Dead.

I’ve gotta get home. I need a cold shower. Or to jerk off. Maybe both. Fucked if I know what to do with myself standing like an idiot in the street.

CHAPTER TWO

* APRIL *

Two days later … (Friday)

I should have given him my number. Was it wrong to think that I liked everything about him? His gorgeous deep blue eyes had instantly trapped my attention, making it hard to look away. He was a hottie, alright, and I now have a new appreciation for blondes. His short hair was swooped to the side, and my greedy fingers wanted to rake through it. The smooth golden skin of his face, and the peek of flesh at his open collar had left me wondering if the rest of his body was as tanned and silky.

I’d appreciated every second I had with him, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough. But those lips. Fuck me, his mouth. I’d owned it for only the briefest moment in time but weren’t those lips the fucking bee’s knees? Hot and soft and sweet … I’ve relived that kiss more times than I probably should.

I’d bet my last meal he’d be all Abercrombie & Fitch model material under those clothes, which seemed like they were custom made to fit his body. When I’d run my hand over his firm, sculpted chest, my resolve had just about disintegrated. After living with a slob for a boyfriend, I can appreciate a man that looks after himself. And Nick, well, that
relationship
was too short lived to even count.

The only thing I didn’t get was the job. Finance. Working at ‘Daddy’s’ firm. I get the whole loyalty-to-the-family thing, but the job sounds boring as shit. Surely his family would see he’s not happy. I barely know him, and I got that vibe straight away. Somehow, I can tell there’s more to him than he was letting on. I just know it.

Against every shred of my will power, I didn’t go back to Wild and Free-Range Café last night, even though I desperately wanted to see if he’d be there. It was the only way he could see me again. Sydney is too big a place to simply bump into one another.

Anyhow, I didn’t know whether I was ready for anything casual, or serious for that matter. I don’t need to hand my number out to trouble. Trouble finds me well enough. There are enough toys in my drawer to keep my heart out of the firing line, and it’s probably best to rely on them, for now.

Surprisingly, I’d enjoyed flirting with Spencer.
Not something I do often.
That little buzz I’d get when we’d touched or he’d laughed, and I couldn’t help but join him … I wonder if he’d even give me a second look if I went back there. I wasn’t prepared to go home with him that night, but I’m sure girls line up around the corner for him. There’s no way he’d be short a bed mate. Not with those pretty-boy looks, and that smile I tried to ignore. The one that had me wanting to take his hand and use it to soothe the ache between my legs. It seems like forever since a man has touched me, but the reality is, it’s only been a few weeks since I stormed out on Nick and got on the first flight home.

After putting off the inevitable, I decide I have to clean this place. I’ve left shit lying everywhere because now I’m living alone, I don’t have anyone to tell me what to do. And I love it, but if anyone were to come here they’d have trouble finding a clear path to anywhere. Except maybe to the fridge. At least I’d made the bed.

I gather up a pile of clothes, and grab my leather jacket to hang up. Something white catches my eye in the pocket, and I put my hand in and pull out a folded napkin.

My mouth’s still burning from the wings.

Call and apologise anytime.

- Spencer.

Hah!
His number is scrawled in the corner and underlined. I can’t believe he slipped me his number. When did he get the chance to do it?
When we kissed
. When my world was focused on that mouth of his. Sneaky. Very sneaky.

I save his number in my phone, and send him a text.

M
E
:
F
UNNY,
I
WAS DOING MY WASHING AND NOTICED YOU ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED A NAPKIN IN MY POCKET.
J
UST IN CASE YOU WERE MISSING IT,
I
THOUGHT
I
’D LET YOU KNOW
I
HAD IT.
A
PRIL.

A few minutes later, my phone beeps.

S
PENCER
:
R
EALLY?
I
DID?
I
’VE BEEN LOOKING HIGH AND LOW.
M
EET ME AT THE CAFÉ AT 7PM TOMORROW AND YOU CAN GIVE IT BACK TO ME.

I try not to get excited, and fail abysmally as my heart decides to work harder in my chest. He wants to see me again. Tomorrow night. Should I? Is he just going to be another disaster? I breathe out and then drag air in deep. What’d be the harm in replying?

M
E
:
O
H,
I
’LL GIVE IT TO YOU ALRIGHT.
I
WOULD HATE TO BE ACCUSED OF STEALING.

He replies, almost immediately.

S
PENCER
:
I
THINK YOU STOLE MY HEART

Really? Cheesy much? I didn’t think he was that kind of guy. I madly type a response.

M
E
:
I
F YOU PROMISE NOT TO BE SO CHEESY,
I
’LL MEET YOU, AND HOPE TO HELL YOU DON’T PRESS CHARGES.

S
PENCER
:
S
URE.
U
NTIL THEN FEEL FREE TO USE IT.

M
E
:
M
AYBE BETWEEN NOW AND THEN YOU CAN WORK ON YOUR SELF-CONTROL.
N
OTHING WORSE THAN A MAN WHO THROWS HIMSELF AT A WOMAN.

S
PENCER
:
I
’LL TRY, BUT
I
MAKE NO PROMISES.

M
E
:
W
HEN
I
WANT YOU TO KISS ME,
I
PROMISE YOU, YOU’LL KNOW.

S
PENCER
:
H
OW ABOUT NOW?
I
BET YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT HOW GOOD IT FELT WHEN
I
SLID MY TONGUE INTO THAT PRETTY MOUTH OF YOURS, BECAUSE
I
’VE THOUGHT OF NOTHING ELSE SINCE.

I throw myself back onto my bed and squeeze my legs together. He’s got me worked up with a few texts.
No, Spencer. There’s been more on my mind than that
. I close my eyes, thinking back to that night and how close I came to giving in to what my body wanted and dragging him back here. I wouldn’t have cared about the mess, and I’m sure neither would he.

My phone beeps again.

S
PENCER
:
S
ORRY,
I
TELL A LIE.
T
HAT’S THE
PG
VERSION OF WHAT
I
’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT.

Funny man, huh? I type my reply, and hope I’m not going too far.

M
E
:
I
THINK YOU’D PREFER MY VERSION.
S
EE YOU TOMORROW.

S
PENCER
:
W
HEN
I
SEE YOU,
I
WANT A PLAY-BY-PLAY ACCOUNT.

If I do, in no time I’d be tearing his clothes off. We’d be kicked out of the café. And I’m not giving up that pork belly for anyone … least of all for someone I barely know.

I need to be smart about this. I’m sick of being treated second best. It’s about time I put myself first in
every
aspect of my life. Spencer needs to know this before we take it any further, because even though I’ve done the one-nighters, it doesn’t matter how much I pretend—each one took a piece of me, whether I let them or not.