Love Drunk Page 2

  “I haven’t tried it.” I shrug. “But sure, I’d give it a try.”

  May’s eyes flick past my head, and she coughs. One thing you should know about May is, she isn’t subtle. She starts nodding her head behind me, and I know, just know, there’s someone there. I really hope it’s not the stranger who I just interacted with.

  “It’s him,” she says loudly enough for me and him to hear.

  I stop the groan that wants to escape my mouth and turn around to face him. He holds that amused look in his eyes. I find it ever so charming. Shit!

  “I only like to choke on a Tuesday, so you’re out of luck.”

  Words! Words have left his mouth, and I have to remind myself he’s talking to me.

  May stifles her laughter behind me while I stare at him, and don’t say a word. Not one, single word.

  “I’m May. And this here is my friend, Everly Thorne. Everly with a Y on the end, in case you need to find her on Insta.”

  My head swings to her. Did she really just tell a complete stranger my whole name? She’s smiling, still holding our two drinks. I take one, putting it to my mouth to stop myself from talking.

  “I’m free Tuesday if that suits you better, Everly.” He tests my name on his lips, and it rolls off as if it’s sweet like candy. I bet he tastes better than any damn candy you can buy. I don’t remove the drink from my mouth. I can’t remove the drink, and even when I’ve drunk the last little drop, I still hold it there against my mouth. Because he’s staring at me, waiting for me to answer. And I can’t. I really, really can’t. He has me awestruck. So much so, I can’t form words.

  “Thorne? As in the family of Evergreen Thorne?”

  “That’s the one. Big Papa is her daddy.”

  He takes the drink from my hand—it’s empty so I let him. He places it on the bar behind me, and when he does, he leans in ever so close that I can smell him. Divine. That’s the word that comes to mind. My eyes close on instinct, and I breathe him in. He smells of sandalwood, and something else—something darker, maybe a little sinister.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Everly Thorne,” he says.

  All I can do is nod. I’m too afraid to speak, and if I do, I’m still not sure what will come from my mouth.

  “She’s pleased to meet you, too. She’s thinking about the right words to say. It happens when she’s awestruck,” May says.

  My eyes go wide as I turn away from him and to her, hitting her arm, and she fakes that it hurt, before I turn back to him. When I do, those beautiful dark eyes are staring at me.

  He leans in close, and I have to shut my eyes, unsure of what he might do. “I would like to take you home.” My eyes spring open to find him now level with me as I stare at his shoulder, his mouth near my ear as he whispers to me.

  My head starts shaking. “I don’t go home with strangers.”

  “Gunner,” he offers me his hand. “I live not far from here. How about you come back for a coffee? I’ll even text your friend my address.”

  I turn to look at May, who’s nodding enthusiastically. But I’m not sure. I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve never gone home with a stranger.

  “It’s just a cup of coffee. No funny business, unless you ask for it.”

  “Okay,” I say, turning away from May who looks like she’s just seen Elvis.

  I, on the other hand, am sweating out of every hair follicle on my body, considering I’m not sure if this is the right thing to do. Heading off to some stranger’s home who might turn out to be a serial killer.

  “Gunner?” I ask, testing out his name. “I knew a Gunner once.”

  He nods while putting his number into May’s phone as she holds it out for him.

  “And what happened to him?”

  I shrug. “I don’t really remember.”

  “Such a shame,” he mutters, as his eyes assess me. “Shall we?” He offers me his hand, and, for some strange reason, I take it.

  2

  My father’s well-known, we come from an old line of traditions, some of which have never been broken. Women, for example, should never be allowed to work outside the family’s business. This was overlooked for me—I am my father’s girl, his only child, and heir to all his work.

  He desperately wants me to marry and have kids, and he needs me to do that soon. I’m not ready, though. He tells me by my age, he’d already met my mother, and I was on the way while he took over the family business from his father.

  Our name has been in the press, for good and bad reasons, and my father is better known than the president. Evergreen is where we were raised. It’s where his father, and his father before him, were raised. They made this town what it is, and now it is one of the biggest distribution hubs of guns and drugs, among other things, in the world.

  So, I wasn’t surprised when Gunner mentioned my name. Hell, my father most likely owns a large share of the club we were just at, or perhaps even the land it was built on—probably both. It’s what they do, buy out all the land and ownership rights to what’s built on it. So, even if you think you might have control, you don’t. Father does. I was always highly amused by his business smarts growing up. It’s what made me want to open my café. Even if my father helped me with the money side of things, I did most of it, and I’m damn proud of my achievements as well.

  Turning to Gunner, we step out of the club, but he doesn’t look at me until we are both clear of the loud music and out in the cold air. It’s silent, it’s late, and most everyone is inside or left for the evening.

  “I can go…” I say, killing the silence. I point in the wrong direction and quickly drop my hand back to my side.

  “Yellow is your color. Do you know that?” he asks, stepping closer. His finger lifts and touches my shoulder ever so slightly. He pulls it back when I stop breathing from the contact, and his eyes do that thing where they’re amused with me again. It’s almost a twinkle but not quite.

  “Thank you.” My hands touch the hem of the dress, but my eyes stay focused on him.

  “Coffee?” he asks, offering me his hand. I place mine in his, and his fingers close around mine and we start walking. It doesn’t take us long to reach the large door of a two-story apartment building. Gunner unlocks the door with his free hand, not letting go of mine, and he pushes the door open.

  He’s correct. He doesn’t live far.

  The entry’s bare. I see no personal effects as he closes the door behind me and then waves to the stairs. “Kitchen’s upstairs.” I look past the staircase and see nothing, then step up. He’s behind me and I hope he can’t see the G-string I have on because this dress is making its way upward again. I hear the click of a button when I reach the last step and spin around to see him pushing a button on his phone. All the lights upstairs flick on, and he slides his phone back into his pocket.

  Turning as he walks past me to the kitchen, my eyes skirt everywhere, wanting to take in what’s in front of me. The floors are white-washed wood and the walls are white—all bare. The only color is the red Keurig on his counter, which is also void of anything. It’s very clean and shiny. Sterile, even.

  “I’ve never done this,” I say, stepping closer as my hands touch the cold granite of the countertop.

  “Had coffee?” he asks, pouring two cups. He holds up the half-and-half, and I nod my head.

  “No, I mean with a stranger. You could be a serial killer for all I know.” He smirks but doesn’t tell me differently. “I mean, we’ve just met. Do you do this often?”

  Gunner pushes my coffee toward me, and I look at the black cup and watch the steam trickle upward like a fluffy cloud.

  “Yes. But I usually don’t do talking. Just fucking.”

  “Oh,” I say, wrapping my hands around the hot cup, so I’m not tempted to look up at him with my rosy red cheeks from his words. “Why didn’t you take one of those other girls? I’m sure they would have been up to—”

  “Fucking,” he says, finishing what I didn’t get to say.

/>   “Yes.”

  “They don’t hold my interest. My intent was to fuck you, but I see you’re not that kind of girl. So, coffee it is…” he pauses, “… for now,” he finishes, leaving room for more, a blatant hint of what he wants from me. Turning away, I look anywhere but at him. The way he speaks, it’s almost velvety, as if he knows how to treat every word before it leaves his mouth. Premeditated. Calculated. But oh so sexy.

  “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say to that.” My hands reach down for the hem of my dress and pull it down. He steps around to my side of the counter and stands next to me. There aren’t any stools, so there’s nothing to sit on and nothing to separate us.

  I know men. I was raised by men. Men don’t intimidate me, but Gunner, he intimidates me. He makes me feel like I’m smaller, weaker, and that I have the privilege of looking at him or being near him. It’s intense, so intense.

  “Why are you fidgeting?” He’s so crass, saying what he wants and doesn’t care how the words come out, even if they are velvety smooth.

  “You make me nervous.”

  “I want to kiss you. Will that stop you from fidgeting?” he says, placing his coffee cup on the counter and taking a step toward me.

  My hands shake, and I’m thankful his eyes are on my face and not on my body, because he would see just how much he makes me nervous.

  I wonder what he sees when he stares at me. Does he see a confident woman or someone who’s shy and reserved? I’m a bit of both, in all honesty.

  “Possibly not,” I answer him truthfully.

  “What if I choked you, would that stop you from fidgeting?”

  His words shock me. But also excite me. They shouldn’t, I don’t know him.

  “Relax, Everly, I won’t choke you. Until you ask for it.”

  “What makes you think I’d ever ask for it?” My hands are still as I breathe him in. He’s so close now, right against my side.

  “Because I watched your reaction, the thought excites you. I wonder what else would bring you that kind of excitement?”

  I want him to kiss me, so much that I stop breathing as he pushes closer around my front. His breath is now heavy on my mouth, we’re mere inches from each other as he stares me straight in the eyes.

  “I think it’s best I go.” The words leave my mouth, but my body doesn’t register them. Instead, it leans closer to him. Closer and closer, wanting those lips that are so full, with a perfect Cupid’s bow, to touch mine.

  Just once? What does he taste like?

  “Maybe so.” Then they touch me, and I lose all sense of who I am at that exact moment. I’m letting a stranger kiss me, and I like it. My eyes close, but he doesn’t take that as an opportunity to move further. Our lips are touching, his soft, full lips pressing onto mine. My breathing stops, then comes in rapid breaths through my nose. My eyes stay closed, and I move my hand to touch him. Our fingers lace together and ever so slowly, he begins to move his lips—savoring me, is what it feels like. Like he wants to take his time taking in every taste of me.

  The taste of him, though?

  It’s perfect, in so many ways.

  A kiss can ignite anything in anyone. But a kiss given by that one true person, that’s a whole new level.

  This kiss would rival that.

  This kiss would claim and ruin me for all other kisses and make me owned.

  His lips are so soft, his tongue delicate as he licks and circles mine. Our hands stay joined. I grip his harder than necessary and tell myself this is an ordinary kiss.

  This is not an ordinary kiss.

  This is so far removed from an ordinary kiss, that it’s extraordinary.

  This is the kiss of a man who’s starved and didn’t know there was a buffet, so he’s trying with all his might to gain access to the room where it’s located.

  I am his buffet.

  And I welcome him to the table.

  Abruptly, he pulls away, our hands separating, and mine drops back to my side.

  “It was a pleasure, Everly.”

  Is he saying goodbye? Yet, here I am still to open my eyes.

  When I finally do open them, I notice he’s holding his coffee, the same one I just tasted on his lips.

  Did he not feel it? That insatiable pull, the undeniable connection.

  “Oh, okay.”

  Gunner pulls out his phone and presses a few buttons, and then it dings in response.

  “I have a driver out front ready to take you back.”

  I look at the unfinished coffee then back to him.

  “Goodnight, Gunner.” I turn on my heel and walk down his stairs to the front door as fast as my feet can carry me.

  When I walk outside, I see a black car, much like the ones my father has me picked up in waiting at the front.

  I slide in only looking back once, and I see him watching me from a window up above.

  And my heart skips a damn beat.

  3

  To say that I’m confused is an understatement. It’s been almost a week since that night, and every time I close my eyes I dream about that kiss. Of his lips, or that smirk. May has held up her end of the bargain and has posted twice for me already. It was a bet I didn’t want to do, but I’m glad now that I did.

  Closing up the café for the day, I lock the front door, and when I turn around, I’m taken aback by what I see. Gunner’s standing there with his legs crossed at his ankles, a smoke between his lips, as he watches me with his dark eyes. There’s something there, something I can’t quite put my finger on about him that’s deeply secretive or hidden from the world. Or maybe it’s just hidden from me.

  He pushes up from the car, his cigarette drops to the ground, and he steps on it then walks toward me. It takes only a few steps until he reaches me, and when he does, his eyes scan me over in appreciation before he offers me his hand. I look at it unsure of what I should be doing, or why he is here, or how he knew where to find me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Gunner’s hand drops back to his side. His hair is pulled back tighter today, so his curls aren’t visible.

  “May said you had a function tonight and needed a date. Here I am.”

  “May?” I ask shocked, my heart fluttering with the thought of him accompanying me somewhere, and him being so close to me makes the butterflies in my belly take flight. I grab my phone and see multiple messages from her. Shit! I was too busy to check my phone today. I need to get ready, and I’m tight on time.

  “An Influencer event she said.” He says it so casually as if this isn’t a big deal. It is. An influencer event is where all big Instagram people gather and businesses and organizations come out in hopes of making connections, so they will advertise them on their page.

  I don’t even know this man. Yet, everything about him draws me to him. Everything. Like a Siren he calls to me, lures and seduces me with his charm.

  “How…” I quickly read through her messages.

  “I asked her for your number, and she mentioned tonight. Here I am. Would you like me to leave?” He turns to look over his shoulder then back to me. A look passes over his face, and he smirks like he already knows what my answer will be.

  “I’m… um....” I don’t know what to say. I check my phone again. I only have thirty minutes to race home and change. Looking back at him he’s already dressed in suit pants and a crisp, clean white shirt. “You want to?”

  “Yes, Everly. I’d be honored if you let me accompany you to your function.”

  “Why?” I ask, because I have to know. He can’t just want to come with me. What reason could he possibly have?

  “Do you question everything?” he asks with a slight irritation, but it’s gone when I look back at him.

  “Yes. It’s in my nature.”

  “Your parents?”

  I shake my head. “I never question my parents. They question everything, but I never question their decisions.”

  “Okay,” is all he replies.

  “I’d like
you to come with me, if you’re happy to.”

  He opens the door to the car he was leaning on, and I walk over to get in. I tell the driver my address and we’re off. I place my handbag on my lap, unsure of what to say. So I start with, “How was your day?” Small talk, that works. Usually.

  “It’s better now,” is his reply.

  I turn to face him to see he’s watching me. Those stupid butterflies that were taking flight before are now flapping around hard in my belly. “What is it you do for work?”

  His hands are on his lap, and he moves one to lean against the door handle as he turns more to face me. “I’m in real estate.”

  “Oh, so is my father.”

  “I know.” His voice has a slight inflection, which indicates he doesn’t sound happy with that fact.

  “This is me. Do you want to wait or come up?” I go to open the door, and he does the same.

  “I’ll come.”

  I nod my head and he follows me into my one-bedroom apartment. It’s nothing special, but it is all mine and I’m proud of it. There’s a separate bedroom which is not joined to the living area being down a hallway—it’s large with its open kitchen. He stops at the kitchen and I place my bag down on the counter and turn to face him.

  “I’ll be back in a few, I just have to change. There’s drinks in the fridge if you want one.”

  Gunner doesn’t look up at me, but I notice his eyes scanning around my apartment. So, I leave him and make my way to my bedroom. My dress is laid out on the bed, ready for me to change into. I quickly undress, sliding off my underwear because this dress shows panty lines and I don’t need that with the number of pictures that will be taken tonight.

  Picking up my red dress and sliding it up my body, I get it as far as my chest, which causes my head to turn, and he’s at my door watching me closely. His eyes roam my bare back.

  How much did he see?

  Did he see me naked?

  Maybe he just got there?

  “The car is waiting.” His eyes are still flicking continually over my body.

  I pull the dress up all the way and walk over to him, turning so my back is to him and indicate for him to zip me up.