Ruin:Part One(7)

I stare at Alexa seeing gratitude there. She's taken so much pride in the openness within her relationship with Noah. The knowledge that he has a brother that she's never met pains her because soon his twin will be her family too.

"We'll see you at home later?" Noah nods towards me, the words filled with a trace of warmth.

I look at Doug and his overly eager grin. Fuck. I have to walk out of this restaurant with him and keep myself occupied for a few hours before I can go back to Alexa and Noah's place. They need time alone. It's only another two days until I move into my own apartment but right now that feels like an endless eternity. "I'll be there."

"This way, my lady." Doug pulls my arm through his. "I'm going to give you an evening you'll never forget."

Great. This evening has officially gone from bad to hell.





Chapter 6




"I thought we'd go back to my place."

His hand snakes around my waist as the words leave his lips. We've been in this club for more than an hour and my plan to distract Doug with the numerous women all bumping and grinding against him hasn't worked at all. He's still hell bent on taking me back to his apartment.

"This is so fun," I lie through clenched teeth. This is not fun at all. I have to be at work at eight in the morning. I'm tired. I'm aggravated and I'm sick of feeling Doug's hands pawing all over my semi expensive dress.

His breath feels hot over my neck. "We'd have more fun if were alone. I'd love to screw you."

You'd love to screw me? Aren't you a gentleman? Images of a quick few thrusts before he passes out on top of me flash across my mind.

"You should dance." I point towards a group of women gathered on the dance floor. They came to get f*cked, or in Doug's case screwed by a teacher. "Get out there."

"Nah." His hand moves higher racing over the bottom of my breast. "Let's go."

"I'm not going home with you." I take a step forward. "It's not happening."

He's around me in an instant, his hands latching tightly to my hips. "I'm not asking for anything but a roll in the hay."

An actual, literal roll in the hay would likely feel better than climbing all over his hot, sweaty body at this point. "You're a nice guy but I'm not interested."

"Why not?" he snaps. "What's wrong with me?"

It's a question that deserves an honest answer. I don’t have one. It's not that he's not attractive. Many women would chase after him in a heartbeat. It's not that sex with him wouldn't be fun. It might actually be better than I'm envisioning. It's just that there's nothing there. I feel absolutely no draw towards him. Jumping into bed for the sake of feeling wanted isn't something I can do anymore.

"There's nothing wrong with you," I say assuredly. "You're great. I'm just not ready yet."

"Is it because of a break up?" His bottom lip juts out in a frown. "Did you dump your boyfriend?"

I glance into his eyes and see a flash of understanding. "Something like that," I offer back. It's semantics at this point. It doesn't matter whether Parker dumped me or I dumped him. What matters is that it's over.

"That's killer." His hand darts to his chest. "My girlfriend dumped me for another guy last year. I'm still getting over it."

Who knew? Who knew that we shared a similar pain?

"Does it get easier?" I lean in closer. "Does the pain go away?"

He nods as his hand races to my arm. "Every day it gets better."

I want to believe him. I do believe him. I feel better today than I felt when I first stepped off the plane weeks ago.

"So?" The words hold way too much expectation. "My place?"

I brush my lips softly across his cheek before taking a step back. "Not a chance."



***



I exit the club onto the street and into the late, cool evening air. I shiver slightly wishing I had thought far enough ahead to grab a sweater before I left Alexa's apartment hours ago. My eyes scan the scene outside the club. It's near midnight now and the throngs of people waiting in line to get inside have only increased. The hum of their voices as they mingle and connect before ever hitting the dance floor wafts through the air. I don't know how I'm going to jump back into that. I'll need to at some point. Meeting men in Manhattan isn't as easy as it looks.

"Kayla?"

The voice that calls my name is rough and deep. It's not Doug. This voice carries more confidence. I whip around on my heel, my eyes scanning over the crowd behind me. I don't recognize any of the faces.

"Kayla." It calls to me again, louder this time. A hand juts above a group of people standing near the entrance to the club.

I step towards the voice trying desperately to place it. I briefly dated a few men before I moved back to Boston. Right now, I can't recall any of them. Please let it be someone from work.

He steps forward, the crowd parting to let him through. I notice her first. She's a beautiful brunette, slightly taller than I am, her hand clenched tightly in his. She's wearing a fitted red dress, the neckline so low that her cleavage is on display. Her lipstick is bold. It matches the hue of the dress. She flashes a set of perfect white teeth before her gaze travels up to his face.