“He isn’t Woods, so I don’t think we are comparing apples to apples here,” Kirby reasons, putting his hands on the arms of the chair. “If he was, I would kick his ass.”
“I would take that ass-kicking,” Knox declares, “every day of the week and twice on Sunday if it ends with me going home with Kylie.”
“Well, this is fun,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go off and elope with Woods.” I put my hand on my heart. “Sorry you can’t be there.” I laugh as I walk to the back of the restaurant and spot the bathrooms, with a door that leads to an exit. I shake my head and exhale before pushing out of the door and stepping out into the cool air. The metal door slams behind me. I look up at the sky then look around to see that there is a gate that lets me out, I think, to the parking lot. I’m walking to it when the door opens and Zane steps out.
“Victoria,” he says my name.
“Don’t let the door close,” I warn and he turns around to stop the door from slamming shut, but he doesn’t catch it in time.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” He stares at me as I walk back to the door.
“I needed some air,” I tell him, “and thought this would be a good idea and it was, at the time.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Now it’s not such a great idea,” I mumble as he looks down at me. “Don’t look at me like that.” His eyebrows shoot up.
“Like what?” he asks as he turns me until my back is against the outside brick wall.
“Yeah, like that,” I say when he steps into my space. I can’t even say what I want to say because all words have evaporated from my mouth.
His scent rushes all over me, the musk from his cologne—or maybe it’s his body wash—brings back memories of me pinned under him, my limbs wrapped around him, no space between us. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, Victoria.” His hand grips my hip. “I shouldn’t be out here.”
“We’ll agree on that one.” I look up at him as his eyes stare into mine. “Zane,” I say his name in a whisper and my hands go up to touch his chest.
“Don’t say my name like that, Victoria.” His teeth are clenched as he says it.
“Like what?” I ask him, and that is the last thing I say because his lips are on mine. My mouth opens for his tongue. His hand on my hip moves up to my side, and he picks me up, my legs wrapping around him as my arms encircle his neck. My hand now cups the top of his head, anchoring him to me, as his tongue slides into my mouth and my back arches into him. The kiss is just how I remembered it was but, no that’s not right; it’s fucking better than I remembered. He pushes my back into the wall as he kisses the ever-loving shit out of me. His beard stings my lips, but it just makes me want to kiss him longer.
“Fuck,” he growls after a couple of minutes, pulling away from me, but I bring his lips back to mine, making sure the kiss lasts longer. My tongue slides back into his mouth, dancing with his. I want to rip his clothes off him right here in this alley. I want him to rip my clothes off me, and then I want him to fuck me against this wall. Both of us are lost in the kiss until we hear voices and a car alarm. The sounds make him rip his lips away from mine. We both look to the side where the gate is, as he moves to put his back toward the gate and shield me from anyone’s view.
“We can’t do this,” he states, holding my sides as my legs unwrap from his waist and he sets me down on my feet. My hands grip the lapels of his jacket until I feel like my knees won’t give out on me. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
I put my hand on the side of my lips, still feeling his kiss lingering on me. “Why not?” I ask him, my stomach getting tight.
“For a whole fucking bunch of reasons.” He steps away from me and runs his hands into his hair, moving it to the side.
“Okay,” I fold my arms over my chest, “name one.”
“Okay.” He puts his hands on his hips, and it just makes the buttons of his shirt look like they are holding on by a thread, getting ready to pop off. “Our age.”
“Hard pass, next.” I shake my head. “We did things that night and your age wasn’t a factor in it. Unless you took a pill to do all those things to me.”
His eyes go into slits. “You fucking know I didn’t,” he hisses. “I’m not talking about my age. I’m talking about your age and me being old enough?—”
“If you say my father, I’m going to vomit on your shoes.” I hold up my hand to stop him from saying another fucking word.
“How old are you?” he asks me and I look up at him, into his eyes.
“One hundred.” I don’t skip a beat. “Does that make you feel better?”
“Victoria,” he hisses out my name and unlike when anyone else says my name, with him, it sends warmth through my body, regardless of the tone of this conversation.
I step into him, my hands moving up his chest and resting on his pecs. “Yes?” I whisper.
“We can’t do this,” he repeats and takes a step back, my hands falling from his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” I tell him, my heart sinking as I nod at him, “more than you will ever know.” I look down once more and then I walk toward the gate that leads to the parking lot. I don’t bother looking over at him to see if he’s looking at me, because I can feel his eyes on me.
I walk around the building and I’m about to head back into the restaurant when I see a cab driving down the street. I hold up my hand and the driver pulls over at the curb. I get in and give him my address before I pull out my phone, texting Jaxon and Ariella.
Me:
