Ahead of the Darkness Page 3

  “Baiser!” My eyes widened and my hand flew to cover my mouth. He almost doubled over with laughter.

  “Did ye just say fuck, in French? And to think I thought ye were all prim and proper like.” He mock shook his head at my profanity.

  “Bloody hell. Can you stop laughing at me for five minutes and help me up. LIKE.”

  “Aye, dinnae get ye knickers in a wad, I’ll get ye from behind.” I couldn’t help the giggle-snort that came out at the comment. Stupid drunk brain.

  I could almost hear the smirk on his face as he slowly put his hands around my waist. He leant in, his rich scent making me dizzier, his warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “Don’t put pressure on the ankle. I’ve got you.” And he did.

  His strong hands around my waist lifted me up, surprising me at how effortless it felt as he manoeuvred me on to my good foot.

  “Now, I’m going to call ye a taxi. Ye do live near here, aye?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know the address. It’s on my dead phone.” I showed him the proof of that statement.

  “Aye, what am I to do with ye?”

  “Leave me in the gutter?” I giggled drunkenly, forgetting again not to put pressure on my damaged foot. I staggered back into his chest— his very hard, warm chest.

  “I cannae do that, love. So here’s what ye gonna do. I’m gonna take ye to my place, and we’ll charge ye phone up, turn her on and call ye a taxi. What say ye? I promise nae to molest ye.”

  “I...”

  I looked around and realised we were mostly alone, with only a few possible crazies lurking on the dark streets. With a busted foot, I wasn’t likely to get too far or go too fast. I didn’t really have much of an option, seeing as my alcohol-drowned brain couldn’t remember where I bloody lived.

  “Is it far...?”

  “Nae, it's only a block away, but I’ll help ye walk. Or carry ye, if I must. Ye dinnae look that heavy like.”

  I had to snort at that. I had meat and a fair amount of muscle at 5’8” wasn’t that small, but my already messy head would not have handled him carrying me for any length of time.

  “I’ll risk it and walk...thanks. You don’t look that strong. The last thing I need is for you to drop me on my drunken head. Somehow, I doubt that will help me remember where I live.”

  He laughed, presumably at my stupidity, while shifting to my right side, never taking his left arm off me, as if I were made of glass and would break. He lifted my right arm over his shoulder and placed my hand around his neck, rendering him my personal crutch. I looked up at him, slightly confused as to how this would work logistically with the height difference.

  “Walk with yer left leg and I will support your right, aye. Just put all your weight on me.”

  “O...kay”

  I stepped forward with my left and leaned into him with most of my weight as I moved my right foot, trying to put as little pressure on it as I could but it was still too much, and before I could steal myself off from the pain he noticed my wince. In a spit second he had swivelled me around behind him, ducked down and grabbed behind my knees and hoisted me up onto his back, only knocking my foot once. I squealed and flung my arms tightly around his neck.

  “Aye, love, dinnae choke me. I nae gonna drop ye. I got ye.” And he did.

  Chapter Three

  The intense aroma of coffee woke me from a rare, dreamless sleep. I stretched and immediately closed my eyes against the throbbing in my head. I buried my face in the pillow. A subtle manly smell washed over me. I breathed it in deeply, then bolted up right. The earth-shattering head spin that came with moving so fast made me moan.

  “Aye, Sleeping Beauty stirs. Do ye want some coffee?”

  A slightly familiar voice yelled from somewhere on the other side of the door, and I noticed the soft hum of music. Gym/bar guy?? I looked down and found myself tangled on a massive, black-suede king bed, completely naked. Ah, merde! I quickly pulled the sheet to my chin and scanned the room.

  The walls were made of old, dirty reddish-brown bricks. Some looked like the cement had been sanded or chiselled off, giving them a sort of rustic beauty. There was minimal furniture, just a large black leather chair, shoe rack, two single shelved round bedside tables, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. They were all a deep-cherry almost-black wood. The floor was a nice touch; white-grey wood that made the simple space seem much larger than it was, and contrasted well with the dark furniture. It was all so clean and stylish— too clean and stylish for a guy. There wasn't one thing out of place.

  I couldn't help but hope I hadn't been kidnapped buy some crazy OCD clean freak, or wound up in a magazine spread. I dismissed the first thought as quickly as it came. The crazy ones wouldn’t work at a bar, they’d get too sticky. I hoped, at least.

  I braved the possible exposure and headed for the chest of drawers. I winced slightly when my right foot came in contact with the cold wood floors. The memory of how I managed to hurt my ankle as still lost in a foggy mist.

  I pulled out the top drawer out and discovered gym/bar guy was into boxer briefs. I nodded my approval and closed it before I felt too much like a peeping Tom.

  The second drawer was the winner. I pulled out a plain grey T-shirt that thankfully covered my bum. The bottom drawer had tracky bottoms in it, but as soon as I tried to step in some I almost fell on my face. I gave up and folded them back way. They looked too long, and probably wouldn’t have stayed up anyway. I took a deep breath in an attempt to clear my fuzzy head and braved for what I presumed would be a walk of shame.

  I creaked opened the bedroom door and found... ah, what’s-his-face, standing in a fully decked out stainless-steel kitchen, bare-foot, and in nothing but a pair of baggy sweats. I swallowed, hard. His back was all hard lines, right down to his sweats, and more dimples...oh my! My eyes instantly snapped up when he started to turn around, and I found an amused pair of eyes. My cheeks warmed as his eyes traversed my scantily-clad body.

  “I umm...couldn't find my clothes...sorry,” I mumbled, indicating the shirt I was wearing. I shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably, and winced, again.

  “I found this in, one of your drawers. You, you’re too clean, there wasn’t anything else to put on and I couldn’t find mine ... sorry.” I trailed off looking down at my bare legs and trying desperately not to blush.

  “Oh, aye. It’s no bother-like. I checked on ye, ye know, to make sure ye were still breathing and all.”

  “Checked? As in...We didn't...You didn't...I mean...What do you mean?”

  He chuckled lightly at my terrible attempt of asking what happened. “Nae, we dinnae sleep together. I prefer my women conscious like.” He chuckled again, and I frowned.

  “Ye don't remember much, do ye?” I shook my head, slowly. I was too confused to comment.

  “Aye, get us another mug, third cupboard on the left. I’ll make ye some coffee and fill ye in.” I did as I was told, stretching up to reach the shelf as a thought struck me mid-stretch.

  “If we didn't sleep together, then why was I naked? In your bed, and where are my clo ...”

  I’d turned around to find him staring at me—well, to be exact, my slightly revealed bottom. The T-shirt I had borrowed had ridden up to show off the under-curve of my bum. His cheeks warmed ever so slightly as his eyes flicked up to mine. I shot him a quizzical look while straightening the T-shirt back into place and passed him the mug.

  “Two, with cream.” He took the coffee cup and avoided my eyes as he spun around.

  I tried hard to smother the smirk threating to break free on my face as realisation hit me. It wasn't from lack of interest, then.

  “Like I was saying. I checked in on ye to make sure ye were alive. I dinnae see anything, mind,” he added quickly.

  His face warmed a little more. It made me think he might have seen a little something.

  “But ye must have stripped off in the middle of the night, and when I picked ye clothes up to put them on the end of the bed, all I could smell wa
s rum, so I washed them.” He shrugged. “They’ll be dry in a wee while.”

  He smiled weakly as he passed me a steaming-hot cup of coffee. I embraced the cup with both hands and inhaled the unmistakable smell of freshly-brewed coffee. The smell cleared some of the fog, allowing me to process what he had said. I looked to the left, to the still open bedroom door and confirmed that there was only one pillow on the bed. I looked past the kitchen bench into the living space, where a pile of blankets and a pillow sat on a rather small brown leather couch. I couldn't imagine how he’d possibly slept there. His legs would never have fit.

  “You, you slept out here? All night?”

  I looked back at him as he walked out of the kitchen and sat down on a chair with a nod of his head.

  “Umm... thank you for not raping me in my comatose state, and for letting me have your bed. You could have dumped me in the bathtub and I wouldn't have noticed. Apparently.” I frowned at the thought of waking up in a random bathtub. How uni student of me that would have been.

  “Aye, it was nae problem like. I was fine.”

  I pictured him trying to sleep on the small couch he was already taking up most of, his legs hanging off the sides, tossing and turning all night until he fell off and gave up to sleep on the floor. I might have laughed if I didn't feel a little bad.

  “Ye must have fell asleep halfway here as ye started to snore when I got to the top of the stairs, and for the life of me I couldnae wake ye. Aye, I dinnae have the heart, mind. So I dropped ye off on my bed and covered ye up. The naked part ye did all on ye own.” He chuckled lightly to himself.

  “What? I do not snore!” Do I? I didn’t remember the last time I was in the presence of someone else while asleep. The possibility that I did snore was discomforting.

  “At least ye dinnae drool on me. Well, I don't think ye did.” He seemed to be laughing at my mortified face. I almost wished I did drool on him, the bastard.

  “Yes, well, I don't make a habit of drooling over boys.”

  “Aye, tis a good thing I'm a man then. Unless, ye prefer the birds?”

  He shot me a quizzical look and waited for an answer. I scoffed at his intrigue over my sexuality, and smirked. I refused to answer his question and left him to whatever dirty thoughts were sure to be playing in his head. Instead, I found myself distracted by the rest of his apartment.

  It wasn't huge by any stretch of the imagination, but the same high dark-brick walls, bare beams and white-grey washed floorboards throughout opened up the space and made the room seem bigger. There were another two leather arm-chairs to match the two-seater couch that he’d slept on. An old polished trolley masqueraded as a mini bar underneath a huge square wrought-iron window. From my vantage point in the kitchen I could only see part of the left side, but the other side, in front of the kitchen I had the perfect view of. Another huge window with a little round table and chairs underneath made a small dinning space but my gaze were instantly drawn to the far corner, which quickly became my favourite part of the apartment. Four, floor-to-almost-ceiling bookshelves were filled to the brim with books. An interesting-looking plush burgundy chair sat in the middle. It was high-backed, curved in shape, and looked ridiculously comfortable. I pictured myself curling up in it, my feet tucked underneath me, losing myself for hours in an endless supply of books. I was lost in the daydream when the background music changed to something slower that sounded vaguely familiar. I turned to see where the sound was coming from and found him staring at me curiously. I was about to ask what when the lyrics started, it was: The Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody”. I all but sniggered at him.

  "You have this song? Well, now it all makes sense. The beautiful, vogue, clean apartment, my unmolested body...” He dismissed my jibe with what I had started to learn might be his trademark smirk. The dimple I secretly liked poked out and his eyes lit with mischief with his changed demeanour.

  “Dance with me?”

  “What?”

  "Dance with me?"

  “Here? To this? I...can’t...”

  He stood up and slowly walked towards me. I was transfixed in the middle of his kitchen from the most intense look in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact he stopped a metre from me and reached out his hand.

  "Dance. With. Me."

  My right hand extended out of its own accord to join his. The second our palms met, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged me forward. On instinct, my free hand came up to stop me from face-planting into his rock-hard, very bare chest, my aching foot completely forgotten. His free hand went around my middle to sit firmly on my lower back. My heart rate accelerated and I started to breathe a little too fast. I swallowed hard and lifted my gaze to look at his still smirking face.

  “See, that wasn't so hard, aye?”

  I slowly withdrew my hand from his peck. “We aren’t actually dancing ...”

  His smile broadened as he leaned forward and dipped me low. I gasped, my hair touching the floor, breaking whatever daze I had been in. He brought me back up fast and hard against his chest. In the next instant, he spun me out and back in. My sluggish and confused brain evaporated as I smiled my first real smile at the show-off.

  “Is that a smile? Aye, I believe it is.” Before I could begin to protest he spun me out again.

  We proceeded to dance in the middle of his living room, him spinning me out and around when the mood suited him. He was surprisingly a really good dancer. With his long frame he moved flawlessly, and took me with him, step for step. The soft croon was in the background, and he whispered the lyrics softly in my ear.

  The happy carefree mood shifted as his smooth Scottish brogue made my heart rate accelerate further. He dramatically dipped me lower and slower when the song came to its finale. My leg came up slightly to balance against his side to stop my spine from snapping the further back I continued to bend. I heard his sharp intake of breath as the T-shirt began to pool around my breasts. Instantly letting go of my hand, he gripped my waist hard and pulled me in against the rough fabric of his sweats. The contact with my naked flesh elicited a small gasp from me and I shivered. I had somehow forgotten I was in nothing but his T-shirt, it seemed we both had.

  To my relief, my position against his sweatpants wouldn’t allow any lower view of me, but neither one of us moved an inch to rectify it. I become very aware that the only thing between us, was a thin layer of fabric, I could feel exactly how aroused he was becoming and my own increased tenfold. I desperately wanted the barrier gone and to roll my hips upward but I was completely at his mercy, still bent backwards, our hips still pressed firmly together.

  I couldn’t move an inch. His right hand slid up my waist and under the shirt along my side, inching the T-shirt higher still. My chest bowed slightly from the sensation his fingers were making on my skin and I could feel his eyes burning into me as one side of the shirt moved further up my stomach. His left hand was the only thing stopping it from completely riding up, but he slowly moved the hand down. His fingers barely brushed my arse as he continued around the back of my raised thigh and along the leg tightly pressed against his side.

  He stopped what he’d been doing when his right hand reached the side of my breast. His thumb stroked the tender flesh and he gradually lifted me up, bringing our torsos together. I watched as his other hand gently pushed my leg down and traced an invisible path along my bare thigh back up to my waist.

  I was a quivering mess of need when he stopped and I raised my eyes to his. They burned into mine as he pressed me closer still, our faces mere inches apart. My lips parted on instinct and I sucked in a ragged breath, my heart pounding hard against his chest. He was so close. A muffled in the background started to break through as his lips parted slightly and moved millimetres closer to mine. I closed my eyes as our noses brushed ...

  Chapter Four

  I waited for contact that never came. Drew took a deep breath and squeezed me hard. My eyes snapped open in time to see him pull back, his eyes still closed
tightly. He groaned so quietly I almost missed it, and then slowly removed his hands from my body. His fingertips lingered a little longer before he completely removed them and spun on his heels. I felt their lost, immensely. His tone was short and clipped when he reached the counter in three strides and answered the ringing phone.

  “Drew.” Ohhh...“What? No. What do you need, Mac? Alex? When? I see, and...hmmm, what about? Fuck. Yeah, I’ll sort it out. No, I said I’d sort it out. Aye, I’ll call ye back.” He hung up without so much as a goodbye. I was still flushed and catching my breath when he turned around and I hurried to slide my shirt back in place.

  “Trouble? I umm ... I, ah, I should go. I just ... my clothes?” So articulate, my heart rate was still too high to properly form sentences, clearly.

  “Aye, shite, ye clothes are still drying. Ye, dinnae have to rush off like, I ... just have to sort something.”

  “Work?”

  “Aye, someone just quit. I have to find someone else to work tonight. I ...”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he just stared at me, almost regretfully. I was transfixed in his gaze, but stupid words came out of my mouth nonetheless.

  “Shouldn’t someone else take care of that? Like your boss?”

  “I am the boss.”

  “You run the club? How old are you?”

  “I own Cascades, and twenty-eight.” Merde!

  “Oh...It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get some in. Who doesn't know how to work a bar, right? I’m sure you have a million friends or girlfriends who’d work a shift for you.” I smiled awkwardly. Girlfriends, really?

  Drew looked at me, puzzled. “There’s a lot more to it then ye think, love. It looks a lot simpler from the other side, with a drink in ye hand.” His patronising tone made me frown.

  “It’s not that hard, Drew. Any moron can do it.” I wasn't sure what it was about him but, he’d been pushing my buttons since we met, and I kept finding myself getting more flustered and biting back instead of ignoring it, ignoring him. My blasé front wasn’t working.