We Were One Once Book 1 (8 page)

But now I’m
obsessed.

I know only one surefire
cure for what obsesses me.

San Francisco: Simon
Lamb

“Simon, are we going out
tonight or not?!”

I flip back to the game,
drowning out any other noise with the volume of the crowd cheering
and announcers yelling about the upset. Sweet. I just won some cash
and my fantasy football league for the week. I click the TV off and
stand up, stretching as I say, “Fine, cry baby. We can go
out.”

Cary throws his empty beer
bottle at me; it thuds against my leg and falls to the rug,
spinning. “Fucker.”

I leave the bottle; that’s
what a maid’s for. I walk down the short hall to my room but yell
back at my cousin, “Get dressed. I’m not taking you anywhere if you
still have on that fucking ripped t-shirt.” I can hear him laughing
and being a smartass, but he’s being quiet about it. I can also
hear him heading to the other room. He knows how far he can push me
and when to just shut up and do as he’s told.

I grab a quick shower and
dress in my usual club crawl uniform—button-down, jacket, jeans, no
socks, loafers. It’s casual but nice; I don’t have to say I have
money. I don’t have to convince anyone that I’m good looking; I
don’t have to try too hard to get what I want. I just am; I just
do.

Cary is standing in the
kitchen, finishing the last of another beer. He has on a similar
uniform but with a non-ripped t-shirt under his jacket. “Come on.
We’ll grab dinner before hitting a club.” He nods. He’s always up
for whatever I want to do. It’s one of the things I love best about
him.

He’s younger than me but
not by much. We look alike. The biggest difference between us,
besides my money, is his upbringing. He had the benefit, or
disadvantage, of both his parents living. They weren’t together, at
least not since he turned eight, but both his parents are alive and
kicking. His father and mine were brothers. I suppose in some ways
he should be jealous of me. His father certainly is.

I inherited all of
Grandfather’s money. I was his sole heir, but I was also his second
chance to get it right. And he did try. In the end, the best
Grandfather could do was give me his millions…and a long letter. He
tried to leave a lasting impression with words of wisdom. I still
have the letter. I read it on my birthday every year, just in case
I get something out of it after all this time. It’s the least I can
do for him.

Cary’s never acted jealous
though. We spent most summers together, along with his sister,
Sophia. They are the closest thing to family I know, and I’ve been
generous with both of them. I’ve paid for colleges, houses,
vacations, cars, lawyers, whatever. I’ve paid to keep their names
out of headlines or in them, however the case may be, and they’ve
been loyal to me since childhood.

“Her?” I shake my head.
Cary looks frustrated again. He sips his drink and scans the lower
level of the club once more. “What about the short brunette there?”
He nods towards a corner of the dance floor below us.

I turn quickly at his
description. It’s not Grace. And I’m angry for hoping that it would
be. “We’re looking for whores, not cheerleaders, Cary!” I down my
drink and leave it on the small ledge. “My turn.”

I scan the crowd and easily
spot a few options. “Come on.” I lead us down the stairs and into
the thick of people. I usually hate crowds. I hate the press of
other people on me, but clubs are different. Maybe it’s the lights
or the music. Maybe it’s the smell—alcohol and sweat. With the lack
of clothes, limbs grind and fly, slamming bodies together and
tossing pheromones around.

I get off on the
hunting—looking around and spotting the perfect prey, slowly
circling and examining, watching her posture for me. I have
wondered why women are so stupid though. I haven’t had this thought
in a long time, I think because I’d given up caring altogether, but
tonight I’m back to it as Cary and I buy drinks for two girls I
spotted.

I wonder if they see the
looks we’re giving them, giving each other. Don’t they smell the
danger they’re in? Don’t they recognize a predator? Has womankind
evolved too far past the primitive to be able to decipher the
subtle clues of hunter and hunted?

This brings my thoughts
around to Grace again. I’ve not stopped thinking about her. She
understood about hunting. She was aware that she was prey; she
thrived on it. But it was deceptive with her. She was just as much
the hunter as I was. She was playing her own game for her own
thrills, and I admired her for it.

She wasn’t like these
girls. She didn’t believe any of my bullshit or try to get me to be
her Prince Charming. She got what she wanted; then she was through
with me. I have to stop thinking about her! Tonight is about having
fun, not thinking about business or her or any other damn
thing.

I give a big wolfish smile
to the girl on my right. She’s taller than Grace. Her light brown
hair is smoothly straightened and cut chin length. Her eyes are an
indefinable color in the low light. Green maybe? She’s cute. She
doesn’t giggle at least but keeps her laugh inside, only shaking
with it. Or maybe it’s just too quiet to hear over the loud music
and people.

I lean over to her ear and
whisper, “I like your laugh.” I bite her neck before moving away.
It’s a good test. She only puts her hand to the spot and laughs
again. I can’t help thinking that Grace would’ve had a good come
back. At the very least, she would’ve taken her own bite out of me.
I smile again with this thought. This girl thinks it’s because of
her, and she smiles even more at me, swaying side to side. Her name
is Maria or Mary…something like that.

I signal to Cary that it’s
time to move things along. He nods and asks the tall blonde he’s
leaning against if she’d like to join us in the VIP section. Of
course she says yes. I don’t wait for her to ask her friend. I grab
the waist of my girl and push her to follow in their
direction.

I’m pissed by the time we
hit the hotel. Both girls are trashed and so is Cary. Hell, so am
I, just not as much as everyone else. I never bring girls back to
my place, not club girls anyway—too messy to get rid of, not enough
privacy. I always arrange a hotel suite when Cary is in town so we
can have fun without fucking up my life.

If I’m honest, I started
tonight off pissed, and now I’m even more pissed. Maria,
Mary—whatever the fuck her name is—can’t even hardly talk, let
alone fuck. She seemed fine at the club, but in the cab ride over,
her head started drooping. She threw herself on top of me, and her
body was like dead weight. She’s even sloppier now that we’re
inside the room.

Cary shrugs his shoulders
at her prone body on the suite’s sofa. He knows that I don’t go for
a dead fuck. If a girl can’t even keep her eyes open, I see no
point in having sex with her. I know there are plenty of guys that
would take advantage of this situation, but I need a conscious girl
to have fun. He tilts his head towards his girl, his eyebrows
raised in question.

We’ve shared before. I
shrug back. I’m not in the mood to share. I’m not in the mood to be
in this situation at all. I’m fucking thrown off my fucking game.
My bad mood is starting to become a really bad mood. I turn away
from him so he can’t see my anger.

It’s all Grace’s fault. I
haven’t been able to clear her out of my head. I’m stuck on her,
obsessed with all I don’t know about her and the little I do. Fuck.
I need to stop. Now.

I turn around with a forced
sense of calm. Cary is slow dancing, undressing the other girl.
She’s pretty. She and Cary make a nice pair—dark blond against
lighter blonde. She’s skinny, but her ass is a little big for her
shape, just Cary’s type.

Her back is to me, so she’s
either forgotten that I’m in the room or she doesn’t care that I’m
watching him undress her. His lips trail over her shoulder, his
eyes on me. Asshole has to stop himself from laughing. I roll my
eyes. I know he’s waiting to see what I want to do.

We’ve found that it’s
easier to get a girl to go along earlier rather than later in the
proceedings. I shrug again and move closer to them, undoing my
shirt. Cary pushes her bra straps down and she takes her arms out
of them, hugging him close around his neck. He has her short skirt
unbuttoned just as I gently stroke her back.

She lets out a little
startled cry, realizing that I’m close and touching her too. Her
head leans back into my chest, and her eyes are wide as they look
up at me. I stop her from saying anything, cupping her chin and
forcing her head back a little more as I kiss her. She kisses me
back, a good sign. I can feel her moving as Cary forces her skirt
and underwear down. With my free hand, I release her bra and it
falls to the floor.

I pull back, letting go of
her mouth but not her chin. My free hand moves down her side,
making her shiver against us. Her eyes stay watching me. I reach
her hip and pull her to me, pushing my erection into her back. Cary
runs his tongue over her stretched neck and she moans, closing her
eyes.

Her eyes pop open when he
bites her nipple a little too hard, and I grab her ass at the same
time. She opens her mouth, and I stop her again with a kiss. She
pushes against Cary, into me, fighting to free her mouth this time.
I pull back a little, and her lips brush mine with her words, “I
can’t do this,” but she’s panting. Cary has his hand between her
legs already. Her protest is weak. I don’t answer, just keep her
head pinned back and squeeze her ass, stretching her open for him.
Her pants turn to moans quickly.

“We’ll take good care of
you. I promise.” My words are more whispers into her neck, against
her shoulder, while Cary kisses her other side. “Do you want him to
stop?” She shakes her head, moaning louder. “Be a good girl and
answer me.”

She moans a long,
“No.”

I let go of her chin, but
she stays leaning against my chest. Cary’s still kissing her neck
and rubbing her pussy. I grab her hips from behind, pulling her
hard against me, causing her to gasp again. Cary stops touching her
and stands back a little. I turn her around to face me.

She’s scared, uncertain, as
she looks up my full height, but she wanted me in the beginning. I
could tell. I went for the friend since I knew she was more Cary’s
type. That and her friend reminded me vaguely of Grace.