“You asked why we were here, and it’s nothing nefarious. We just wanted to grab a drink.”
“Oh.”
“Afraid I may be stalking you?”
Tucking my chin to my chest, I didn’t want to confess that I, indeed, imagined he followed me here. More in a romantic, possessive lover way, and not that of a serial killer.
I’d been ignoring him over the last three days, since I told him about our one night together. I was afraid if we were alone, he’d ask questions I simply couldn’t or didn’t want to answer.
“No,” I mumbled.
Nate was impossibly close as his arm brushed against mine. I no longer felt like the confident twenty-four-year-old I worked so hard at becoming. I felt more like the naïve teenager in my ballet class, listening to my teacher tear me down bit by agonizing bit.
“Alexandra.” My name was a loving stroke from his lips, and it felt as carnal as his hands.
Just as I looked up at Nate, a rowdy man with a beard as long as he was tall jostled into us, spilling his beer across both our shirts. I cried out in alarm at the same time Nate tried to steady the man.
“Sssorry,” the man slurred, and it was clear he’d had more than necessary for the night. Even with Nate’s assistance, the offender could barely stand on his own two feet. While he and Nate danced around the bar, I eyed Rachel, and she nodded, confirming she called a cab for the man and had our security guy heading our way.
It took a few minutes for Raymond to get the man under control and in the cab, then the shock of the incident took over. My clothes reeked of cheap, warm beer, and I was pretty sure my hair did as well—one of the downfalls of keeping it long.
As Nate returned to my side, his T-shirt clung to him on one side, and though it was appealing to see the distinct line of his taut muscles, I knew it was anything but comfortable. He’d taken the brunt of the spillage.
“Come with me,” I beckoned, leaving a twenty on the table. My drinks were on the house, but I wanted to make sure Rachel was taken care of.
The farther we moved toward the back of the dimly lit bar, the more nervous I became. The sole reason I avoided Nate the last few days was to keep us from being caught alone, and here I was, dragging him to my personal haven. Could I have offered to bring him down a shirt? Sure, but I’d never been one to do the smartest thing.
“Where are we going?” Nate asked as he flexed his fingers within my grasp.
“Up to my apartment.”
Chapter Eight – Nate
I’d been enjoying my back-and-forth banter with Alex at the bar. Her face was like an emotional picture show. Everything she was feeling was written so clearly across her features. It was fascinating to me. I’d never met someone who could go from angry to bashful in such a short timeframe. And when she blushed, I felt the head of my cock jump. Something about the pink in her cheeks turned me on more than any dirty magazine I ever flipped through as a teen.
The guy who spilled his beer all over us had been the best kind of incident. Were we bothered being covered in the stench of stale beer? Of course. But as she led me toward the back of the bar, I was savoring every second of being in the darkness with her.
I expected her to take me back to an office or storage room to get an employee shirt or something, maybe even ask me to wait while she found one. With the way she avoided me the past few days, I was sure she planned on maintaining that distance. But when she said we were going up to her apartment, I was taken aback. I found myself clutching her hand like she was going to slip away at any moment.
A pair of rickety metal steps barely hung on the exterior brick wall of the bar. I recalled hobbling down them when I retreated from the apartment a year ago, but now imagining Alex climbing them on a daily basis left me sick to my stomach.
Flexing my fingers, I tugged at her hand, silently requesting she hold back. Even in the dim illumination from a nearby outside light, her blue eyes twinkled as she peered at me over her shoulder.
“Is this the only way inside?” I asked, praying there was an alternative. As she nodded, I began seriously calculating what it would cost to replace the steps and wondered why Andrew hadn’t done it himself.
“Scared?” she teased as she took the first step, releasing my hand.
“Just assessing the risk of these stairs.”
“Come on. It’s fine. I’ve been using them for years.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
Alex was already halfway up the staircase as I took the first step, surprised the creaking metal held my weight. I wasn’t a small guy by any means. I tested my weight on each step before progressing to the next, missing the opportunity to watch Alex’s perfectly shaped ass sway as she made her way to the top.
Swiftly opening the door using a biometric scanner—which surprised the hell out of me, considering the state of the stairs—Alex held it open as I proceeded inside, flicking on the light when she followed.
On one side of the room sat two olive-green reading chairs. A small end table was nestled between them, holding a stack of books. Across from them, an oversized beige couch looked well used with a quilt draped along the back. A clean open kitchen occupied the left corner, and a door led to what I assumed was the bathroom. Turning around, I saw her bed was against the wall, the sheets and comforter pulled up toward the pillows.
