Riptide Affair Read online

  And just like that, I run out of things to say. As does she.

  Clearly, she doesn't recognize me, like, at all, but why would she? Throughout a person's life, there are trillions of details the brain has to process, and some things—most things, actually—slip through the cracks. And right here, in the presence of Merrin, I'm okay with my face being one of them.

  Aside from the hum of the emergency light and the occasional clunk of machinery above and below us, it's quiet. So quiet, in fact, that when her stomach rumbles with the force of an angry mountain gorilla, I hear it, and am grateful for the distraction.

  “Sorry,” she giggles, pressing a hand to the subtle curve of her stomach. It's not flat or concave like some of the women I know, and I like it. I too want to touch it, cover it...feel her warm softness.

  Jesus.

  Head out of the gutter.

  Now.

  You can NOT touch this woman. You are not allowed to look at her like that.

  My messenger bag is still slung across my chest, so I shove a hand into the side pocket and bring out the one and only nourishment I brought with me today.

  “Here.”

  Her eyes soften when she sees the granola bar in my hand, but she shakes her head. “Oh, no, I'm fine, but thanks.”

  “You sure? You'd be doing me a favor.” I inch closer, waving it in her face. “If this isn't weighing me down I'll have an excuse to grab a burger for dinner.”

  “No, really—”

  “Trying to prove chivalry isn't dead here, Merrin. Help me out.” Another step and I'm a mere foot away. I'm not sure if it's my brain playing tricks on me or what, but she smells...she smells like food. Fried food. “You know you want it,” I singsong, waving the bar just beneath her nose as she eyes me with bland amusement.

  Finally, she snatches it out of my hand. “Fine,” she smirks. “Thank you.”

  I stand taller, as if I've won a battle of some kind. “You're very welcome.”

  My eyes never stray from her mouth as she takes a tiny nibble from one corner. The next bite is bigger, and it doesn't take long before she's polished off the whole thing. And I don't miss a second of it.

  She wads the wrapper up and stuffs it down into her purse.

  “Better?”

  Merrin licks her lips, opens her mouth, and is just about to respond when—

  POP!

  One of the emergency lights—an old-school incandescent bulb—dies, leaving us with one lazily-blinking red bulb.

  My female companion stares up at me like I have answers, but I don't, so I deposit my messenger bag on the floor next to my feet and unfasten the top button on my shirt because holy fuck it's getting hot up in this mother.

  “Might as well make yourself comfortable, Merrin. I have a feeling we'll be here a while.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Merrin

  “You are so full of shit!”

  We're half-an-hour into this involuntary imprisonment, but surprisingly, I don't care. Because I'm currently in stitches listening to Jared. This guy is clever. Sweet and funny. Basically, a pleasant distraction. Plummeting to death in a giant metal box no longer dominates my mind as we sit on the floor, backs to the wall, and talk about how this craptacular day of ours began.

  “I swear on my life! I looked in my mirror and the guy was on his front porch in tighty-whities and fuzzy pink slippers. He even waved when I drove away.”

  “He did not!”

  “He did! Right there in the middle of this super stuffy gated neighborhood with manicured lawns and topiaries and American flags flying on every porch.”

  I wipe tears from the corner of my eyes—a result of the laughter he's inspired in me. “Well, maybe he thinks it's his God-given right as an American to run outside in his skivvies if he so wishes.”

  “Uh, no.” Jared tilts his head forward, eyes narrowed. “I'm pretty sure that violates a handful of public indecency laws. Not to mention the fact that he's scarring his fellow Americans.”

  “Which isn't actually against the law,” I point out. “There's no state statute saying you can't offend your neighbors. Besides, would you be complaining if it was a woman—a hot woman—that ran outside in her undergarments?”

  “Probably not,” he answers truthfully. “But only because she'd be doing me a great service. Making this particular American very happy.”

  I scrunch my nose. “Aw, see, that just makes you sound like a pig.”

  “But a cute pig, right?” He winks and, for some insane reason, I have the sudden urge to scoot closer.

  “Cute or not, you're still covered in shit, swatting away flies with your stumpy little tail. A pig is a pig.”

  We share an easy laugh, and I'm surprised to find I rather like spending time in Jared's company. Even if it is in the confines of a sweltering metal box. The guy has a great smile, quick wit, and eyes that, if properly illuminated, I fear I could get lost in.

  The dating pool in Blackjack is so shallow it's closer to a mud puddle than an actual pool, which is why I've remained single for the past decade. That, and the fact that every man I've met has either tried to get in my pants already or they've bullied me to the point of cruelty. It's fifty-fifty, really.

  Jared, on the other hand...

  My train of thought crashes when the elevator lets out a high-pitched squeal, and so do I. Reaching out, I try to steady myself, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the inevitable fall, but...nothing happens.

  Five seconds pass.

  Then ten.

  Then fifteen.

  Still nothing.

  Finally, I breathe a sigh of relief and let my shoulders ease away from my ears.

  “Hey, uh, Merrin?”

  “Yeah?” I squeak.

  “What, um...what are you doin'?”

  I blink back fearful tears and finally lift my eyes to his, but he's not looking at me. His lids are lowered, as is his gaze, and when I follow it, my entire face blooms with fire. Because there's a small feminine hand gripping the inside of his muscled thigh.

  My hand.

  Every muscle in my body jolts as I snap my hand back, filled to the brim with mortification so hot it could rival the flames of Hell. “I—I am so sorry. I—I don't—I don't know why—that was—shit...”

  Jared nudges my shoulder with his. “Hey. No worries. It's fine.”

  His eyes are alight with humor, but I still want to crawl to the corner, curl into a ball, and die.

  It's a damn good thing he's making light of this situation because I sure can't. Especially not now. Because after my ninja grope-attack, another issue has, ahem, arose.

  Every time the emergency light flashes, I see it. The straining bulge in Jared's cargo pants. I try to blink. I try to look away. I try to spare myself further embarrassment...

  But I can't.

  Like...literally can't do it.

  My mouth pools with saliva and I swallow hard before licking wet, parched lips. Lips that are beginning to tingle. My hands fist into tight balls at my sides, and when I do finally summon the wherewithal to rip my eyes from his package and glance up at his face, I wish I hadn't.

  Because, unfortunately, his eyes are trained intently on my lips, his eyebrows pulled together to form an adorable little V in the center of his forehead that I want to smooth away with a finger. A bead of perspiration lingers near his temple, right against his dark hairline, and we're just so close. It would be so easy to swing my leg over his, push myself against him, wrap my arms around his neck and—

  What the hell is happening?!

  “It's really hot in here,” I whisper.

  “Yeah. It is.” Jared blinks, clears his throat, then looks away. “Know what? I think I'll stand over there.” He points to the far wall and I nod. Exuberantly.

  Distance will help. It's ten bazillion degrees in this box.

  Jared hops up with ease, moves to a wall, and I do the same so that there's an entire elevator floor between us. But it doesn't feel like enough. Standing with our hands behind our backs, we look anywhere but at each other until, eventually, our gazes lock on accident. It's dark. His entire face is cast in shadows, but still, when he looks at me and I see the way his throat rolls when he swallows, I feel his stare everywhere.

  My nipples—traitorous heathens that they are—pucker painfully within the lace confines of my bra, and because I'm an idiot, I look down, only to find my high beams bright-lighting the hell out of him.

  Kill me now.

  Just snap the steel cables and let me fall.

  Put me out of my misery.

  Before I have the sense to cross my arms to shield myself, Jared groans out a curse and turns away, pressing his forehead, along with both palms, against the wall. I'd appreciate his gentlemanly attempt to spare me further humiliation, except...that ass.

  Maybe I should turn around too. Because this lusty exchange happening here? It's not me.

  Laura? Yes. Harper? Maybe. But me? No.

  I'm not a seductress. I don't woo men or ensnare them with my feminine wiles. That's not my department. But if you need someone to trip over their own feet or blurt out something completely random then I'm you're gal.

  This boldness? This physical awareness? This immediate and all-consuming attraction to a stranger? I know it's not me. It's not Merrin.

  It's that stupid, stupid, stupid little pill.

  Between the red light bathing the room, my adrenaline running rampant, and the foreign substance flowing through my system, I can't help myself. All good sense evaporates in the sweltering heat, leaving me filled with nothing but primal, inescapable need—a physical ailment that has me feverish and jittery, acting on pure instinct.

  My feet move on their own accord, and even though I know I need to duct tape
myself to the opposite wall, I don't stop walking until I'm a breath away from Jared. His broad shoulders are tensed, feet braced shoulder-width apart, head lowered. My eyes eat up the lines of his body. The way his torso is broad up top but narrows into a trim waist. The curve of well-toned biceps—the kind born of manual labor, not an expensive gym membership. Thick thighs. Muscled calves. Even the slightly sunburned skin at the nape of his neck is attractive. His hunched posture tells me to back away, to keep my distance, but I don't heed the warning.

  I demolish the distance between us and touch him.

  Shaking hands land on his waist, just above a black leather belt. A sharp intake of air pierces the heavy silence, and I'm not sure if I made the sound or if Jared did, but before I can stop myself, before I can think better of it, my fingers are on the move, inching around his midsection, feeling the heat seeping through the shirt at his tapered waist. Even through a layer of thick polyester, he feels amazing.

  Jared turns his head to the side, but his eyes remain glued to the floor. “What are you doing?”

  Fair question...

  “I don't know,” I whisper. “So if you could stop me, that'd be great.”

  I don't want him to stop me. Not really. I want to feel what it's like to run my palm along his bare skin. I want to feel the heat he emits. Feel his muscles twitch and shift under my fingers. I'm so amped up, I don't even register a change, but the next time I blink my heavy lids and look up, he's right there, staring down at me. Conflict muddies his dark blue eyes, but it's nowhere near as dominant as the heat I see. The need.

  In the back of my mind, sirens begin blaring.

  DANGER!

  STRANGER DANGER!

  But this isn't some creep in the parking lot following me to my car. It's not a man cat-calling me from the bus stop bench as I take trash to the dumpster at work. Or someone eyeing me between cereal boxes at the grocery store.

  This is a very sweet, very attractive man who gave me his last granola bar and calmed my nerves when I was on the brink of unraveling. Honey, oats, and a few calm words. That's all he's given me, but to my libido—which is now cranked up to an eleven—it's enough. More than enough.

  Pressure draws my attention and I look down, holding my breath as I watch two large hands encircle my hips.

  Now, Jared is touching me.

  He's touching ME!

  The oxygen in my lungs grows thick, making it damn near impossible to pull in a full breath. This is all very new, and it's terrible and reckless but I've lost all sense of logic and reason, so it's up to Jared to voice a concern.

  Which he does.

  “Maybe you should go back to your side of the elevator.”

  The sharpness with which he delivers the words should be enough to pull me from my stupor, but it has the opposite effect. Now, I not only want to touch him...I want to kiss him. Run my hands through his hair. Wrap a leg around his waist and press against him. Lathe my tongue against his, close my eyes, and give in completely...

  “I really should.”

  I want to climb this man like a tree. Dig my heels into his ass, run my tongue along the hollow of his throat, and graze my teeth along his five o'clock shadow until he reciprocates with fervor.

  Jesus H. Christ, what is wrong with me?

  “Merrin...” He tears his eyes away and expels a humorless laugh. “I think whatever they gave you up there is working.”

  Why, yes. Yes, it is.

  “And as tempting as this is...because it's really fucking tempting...I have to decline.” Jared's hands slide to my shoulders and gently push me back to my own wall.

  Um. Ouch?

  Rejection burns through my blood, but even that's not enough to squelch my need. His lips are inches away from mine and everything in me is screaming to lean forward and steal just a taste.

  One taste.

  Just one.

  I go up on my tiptoes and—

  “Merrin.” I freeze, hearing the reprimand in Jared's voice. He can see the intent in my eyes, which is probably why he's holding me at arm's length. For his own safety. “I think you're about to make a big mistake.”

  A kiss?

  Since when is kissing a mistake?

  Just one kiss?

  My drug-addled brain doesn't comprehend.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeats, eyes going wide. “Because you don't know me.”

  “So?”

  He laughs openly this time, eyes crinkling with mirth. “You are high off whatever they gave you, and I would just be...”

  “You would just be what?” I fist my hands in his shirt, holding him captive until I get an answer.

  “I would be a mistake,” he says slowly, eyes burning into mine. “A fun story to tell, maybe, but you'd regret it later.”

  I stare, dazed. “Yeah, I don't think I would.”

  He ducks his head for a moment, clearly exasperated with me. Then he jerks his eyes back up, and they're filled with resolve. “You're not really attracted to me.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “I'm not?”

  “No. It's just...a chemical reaction. An intended effect of a drug formulated to do...this.”

  Is it just me, or is this all this nerdy talk a super huge turn on?

  “Fair enough.” I take a deep breath and try to get a handle on myself, but it's hard.

  The situation.

  My nipples.

  His dick.

  Everything is hard.

  “So I should leave you alone.”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  “Because I'm acting crazy.”

  “No. I didn't say that.”

  “Because you have a girlfriend?”

  “I didn't say that, either.”

  “Because—”

  Suddenly, he's in my face, nose-to-nose, and all I can see, smell, and hear is Jared.

  “Because I'm in a confined space with an incredibly sexy stranger who can't keep her hands to herself and right now all I want to do is make a very stupid decision and fuck her into next week.”

  He rears back, panting, and I realize I'm winded too, but for a very different reason. Who knew a drug had the ability to do this. Make you so horny you're ready to claw your own damn eyes out and hump the nearest living creature.

  “Funny.” I give him a wry smile. “I'm in the same predicament.”

  Jared searches my face, looking for...who knows what, before releasing a heavy sigh and easing his grip. “You're making this really hard, you know that, right?”

  I cast a suggestive glance down between our bodies. “I'm aware.”

  This is insane.

  I'm insane. Like, I have literally lost my damn mind. Clearly, it's back up on the top floor, because the next thing I know, I'm on my tip-toes, he's bowing his head, and our lips meet in the middle.

  One kiss. Quick. Chaste. It's not even a good kiss.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, pulling away. “I had to.”

  “You had to?” His voice is lower. Raspy. Filled with sensual grit.

  I nod. “Uh huh.”

  “You satisfied?”

  Far from it. If anything, the need coiling in my belly just wrenched tighter. “No. You?”

  “Not even close.”

  I gasp as Jared's body pushes flush against mine, pinning me to the wall. Everything inside of me rejoices as he cages me in his arms. If I had the means, I'd be doing a victory dance right now.

  I shift my legs, widening them so he can nestle closer. Closer. I need him closer. The hem of my dress hitches up, allowing warmth to burn through both his pants and my panties, pulling a helpless, wanton mewl from my throat—a sound I've never made before in all my thirty-one years on this earth.

  “Bad idea,” Jared continues whispering as he drags kisses along the column of my throat, sliding hands into my hair. “Bad, bad idea.”

  I nod, acknowledging but not actually agreeing in the slightest. “Duly noted. Bad idea.”

  Hot lips meet mine and for once Jared shows zero restraint as he consumes my mouth, tasting, teasing, taunting, nipping at my bottom lip with just enough fervor that it blows my chaste little kiss out of the water and leaves me wanting so much more. The kiss is aggressive but soft. Demanding yet patient.

  In a word...perfect.

  The number of guys I've kissed can be counted on one hand—three fingers, to be exact—but none of those boys ever came close to making me feel this. Like I'm flying and drowning at the same time.

  I claw frantic hands through his hair, anchoring our mouths together, fighting to deepen the kiss as Jared grips the back of my thighs and pulls my legs further apart, making room for himself. I'm off my feet in the next second, gasping, reaching, wound around him like ivy as his hips thrust forward and I melt on the spot, catching a glimpse at how good this could be. How shattering it could feel.