Read Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2) Online
Authors: Natalie E. Wrye
Hour by Hour (Games & Diversions #2)
Natalie E. Wrye
Copyright © 2015 by Natalie E. Wrye.
This novel is an original work. It is a
fictional
writing, a work entirely derived from the author’s imagination. All characters and events are entirely
fictional
and not based in fact, nor based on any real person(s) living or deceased. Any resemblance or similarity to any real person(s), alive or dead, or event is purely and clearly coincidental. This book contains adult language and in some instances coarse language and, due to its content, should not be viewed by children.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by an means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without the written permission of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a book review).
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Table of Contents
Attackers may sometimes regret bad moves, but it is much worse to forever regret an opportunity you allowed to pass you by. - Garry Kasparov
LUKAS GRIFFIN
“
No!
That’s not fucking good enough! You tell that crazy, lying psychopath
that I don’t give a damn
what
she claims!
“If she can’t come up with a credible alibi by the end of the week, I’ll have her lunatic ass arrested and charged
with felony property damage!”
I slam the phone down so hard that my hand starts to sting from the impact—but I don’t
give a damn
.
That private investigator better be damned happy that it’s my hand and not someone else’s face.
Like his… or Trina’s.
That psychopathic bitch destroyed my beloved Porsche, and she’s going to answer for it—or the P.I. I hired will.
He… the police... they don’t know
shit
, and every day that passes without someone being charged for the destruction is another day that my blood pressure goes
through the roof
—another day that only adds fuel to the fire of my conviction that I should just take matters into my own hands
.
Chris and Foxx are the only things stopping me.
Chris steps carefully into my office not a minute later. He stands precariously at the entrance for a few seconds, his reddish-blonde eyebrows rising sky-high.
“Can I come in?” he says cautiously. “I wanted to knock earlier but I didn’t want to get my head bitten off, too.”
I manage a laugh from behind the desk, easing up by a fraction. I motion towards him.
“Yeah, sure, come on in.”
Chris glances around my office, looking warily at my disaster of a desk.
“Holy shit. It looks like a hurricane hit this place.”
“I suspect it’s because one
did
—
me
. I’ve been a fucking brute storm ever since my car got beat to shit.”
“Still no luck, huh?”
“No,” I say wearily, rounding my desk. “They haven’t found anything yet. No prints on the car—
Nothing.
This case is turning into a regular bumble-fuck.”
Chris sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that, man.”
I shake my head at him, sitting resolutely on my desk.
“Don’t be. The only one who’s going to be sorry is whoever did this, once I get my hands on them.”
“Hey, Griff.
Watch it
, bro. Don’t
you
get involved in this mess.”
“I’m
already
involved… but don’t worry. I’ll only strangle Trina within an inch of her life… I won’t actually
finish
the job.”
Chris gapes at me before snapping his mouth shut.
“Come on, Griff. You don’t mean that. We don’t know
who
did it.”
I glare viciously at him.
“Who
else
could it be?”
“I don’t know… but I just don’t think that Trina is the type. She’s too… too
docile
to do that sort of thing.”
“Yeah…” I snort. “Docile and
doped
to the gills. Trina was
high off her ass
at Foxx’s engagement party. Lord knows
what
she’s into now.”
Chris dawdles near the door, lost in thought—perhaps mulling over what I’ve just told him.
“Yeah, who knows?” he says softly. He looks up at me, his voice growing stronger.
“But hey, just don’t go around, trying to catch an assault rap while the police and investigator are trying to figure out what’s what. We’ve still got other pressing issues to address.”
“
What
issues?”
“Issues like the access I
still
don’t have to some sections of the cloud drive.”
I scowl—confused. “Which parts?”
“
Important
ones—like the network drive that has the folder containing the ‘Voyager’ file.”
I start to stand. “Which Voyager file?”
“The one I brought to the engagement party, the collaborative piece that’s
supposed
to be published in Voyager’s July spread.”
He says the words slowly, hissing out the last words between clenched teeth.
Oh, fuck.
That
one.
“And it isn’t just
that
file,” Chris continues. “We’ve got a whole host of articles and items in that folder. Things we’re working on. Things we
need.
”
“Damn, what do we need to do? Let’s get someone in IT on it now.”
He crosses his arms. “I
have
already. They’re looking into it. I’m sure it’s just a small glitch… but it’s still stressing me out.”
“
Everything
stresses you out. Too much milk in your
coffee
stresses
you
out.”
His laugh is low when he responds. “Hey, I resent that… but speaking of
coffee
, I’m starting to think it’s that time of day.” He checks his watch.
“Aaaaand it is. Want to come with me while I hit the Starbucks around the corner?”
I shrug. “Nah, you go. I’m going to go for a walk or something—clear my head.”
“Alright, your choice. Just don’t commit manslaughter while you’re out.”
I grin, but there’s no humor in it. “I’ll try to refrain…”
***
A hot coffee sounds like the perfect prescription for my mid-day blues, but today, I’m just not in the mood.
I actually haven’t really
been
in the mood for almost a month now. And it’s more than just the case of “who killed my ride.”
It’s
me.
It’s
Elena.
It’s me acting like a fucking fool
over
Elena.
I know you can have blue balls, but can you have
blue balls of the brain
? My mind has been a literal mess since she’s come around.
I knew something was wrong when I started spouting all that “baby” bullshit with her.
It had already been three weeks without sex, and suddenly I was spewing sweet nothings over the Internet… and in her ear.
Add to that three
additional
weeks that I’ve been sex-less since I slept with Elena, and you’re not just talking about a mess anymore—you’re talking about a
natural disaster
.
I go over the days in my head again.
Fuck.
It’s been three weeks since I’ve even touched a woman.
The first two weeks were understandable; I was looking for a P.I. who could help me track down the son-of-a-bitch who destroyed my car.
But the
last
week? What the hell was that about?
The cute barista at the local Starbucks practically served her pussy to me on a platter alongside my coffee, and I didn’t bite.
The only thing that received
any
mouth action that day was the cookie she’d sold me.
Maybe I’m sick—coming down with something. I clench a fist at my side.
Yeah
—
a big fucking case of Elena.
I’d set my sights on certain women before.
I came, I saw, I conquered—
I came.
But when the climax was over, so was my interest.
So, why the fuck am I still thinking about Elena?
She wasn’t my first one-night-stand, and still… nothing so far has stopped her from being my last.
A hard-on was never hard to come by, but these days, they were getting fewer and further in-between.
I must be sick. I’m definitely getting sick—because for the past week, only the thought of one woman has been able to make my cock hard.
I jacked off that one night to the thought of this mystery woman—to the fantasy of some phantom figure. I’d imagined subduing her into submission, silencing her tongue by placing my mouth—or cock—on it.
And now that I have for one night, it’s like I can’t get enough.
I want more
.
The second I watched her walk away, I knew that what we did just wouldn’t suffice.
I’ve never been one for the difficult type, never understood the appeal of the combative woman.
But with Elena, there’s always some boundary I’d like to test, some line I’d like to tow.
Part of her intoxication is not knowing where her limits lie—
and I’m dying to push every one of them.
That last morning we spent together, I was a prick—even more of a prick than I usually am. I went off on her because I was pissed about what had happened to my car.
It wasn’t warranted, I admit, but how the hell else was I supposed to feel?
Fuck
.
I kick a rock outside of our office building like an angry toddler.
I loved that goddamned racer.
But the damage was done.
Elena and I wound up in a shouting match that rocked the entire floor of the hotel. She slipped back into her clothes, promptly smacked me across the face, and took off.
I watched her climb inside of a cab from my hotel window. I haven’t heard from her since.
I’ve been too stubborn to call, too pig-headed to even pick up the phone. I’d probably be more apologetic if she hadn’t slapped the
hell
out of me.
It’s pretty useless now, though. She’s back in Memphis, and I’m stuck here in Tampa. There’d be no point in reaching out.
Foxx’s wedding is several months away, and with the exception of Anastasia’s graduation party, there’s no reason for us to even see each other again.
I stop suddenly, hunching my shoulders amidst a cold breeze.
Ana’s party.
I nearly forgot.
The youngest Lexington is graduating with her undergrad degree from the University of Central Florida.
As soon as she does, she’s being whisked out of Orlando and into Tampa so she can attend the surprise party that Kat and Elena are throwing.
Good
fucking
grief, this little clique of ours loves surprises parties.
Foxx and Kat are holding the party at their house.
I’m
expected to come. I snort at the thought—
it’s the last place I’d rather be
—but when I turn around to walk back to the office, I feel a twist in my gut.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I want to go to this party. I
want
to see Elena again.
But why?
She’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since the day we first
spoke
—a fucking wrecking ball to my personal
and
professional life.
Even now
. If I concentrate hard enough, I can hear her voice. Her deep, breathy sighs. That throaty laugh.
It’s a voice that was made for radio… or
a phone sex operator
.
There’s underlying lust in each breath she takes, evoking images of a slow undressing behind a closed door, heavy pants and hard strokes—sex in hotel hallways as the neighbors listen in.
Her voice is a hand under the skirt, a caress below the belt—a whisper in your ear. It seduces you without your knowledge, dropping your barriers before you know what hits you.
That’s
Elena
.
She’s the embodiment of silent seduction… and me? I fell right into it.