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MORGAN
Four Months Ago
“Really?”Ash stops about twenty feet from the pub, forehead scrunched. “Here?”
“Yes, here.” I get why he’s hesitant. The music and noise coming from the White Hart is loud and raucous, people spilling out from the overcrowded insides. It’s not usually this busy when we come for a pint, but tonight’s different.
Tonight, the White Hart and the Old Bell across the road are holding a fundraiser for the local animal shelter. Normally we’d avoid it like the plague, but it’s been a shit week, and I needed to get out of the house for a bit.
So naturally I dragged Ash along with me. That’s what best mates are for.
He stops just outside the doors as a massive cheer erupts from the pub opposite. We both turn to look, along with half the people around us. Bodies fill the beer garden, the familiar leather cuts of the Wild Wolves standing out among everyone else.
It’s a captivating sight, and we stare for a beat too long before Ash nudges me and we go inside.
It’s hot and sweaty, the bar packed, and it takes us way too long to get served. “Order some shots.” We’ll probably regret it later but I don’t really give a fuck.
They go down easy, way too fucking easy, and it feels like the next few hours pass in the blink of an eye.
By this time, we’ve migrated outside for some fresh air. We’re not alone out here, but the few scattered people are nothing compared to the party still raging over the road. I can’t decide whether it looks like the best time ever or a nightmare. We watch as two guys kiss against the side of the pub. It’s passionate and raw, like they don’t give a shit who’s watching, and a pang of jealousy hits me square in the chest. It’s been ages since anyone kissed me like that.
“We could go over there,” I muse, unable to look away. The jealousy slowly slides into longing and I’m taking a step forward before I realise.
Ash catches my arm. “Are you insane?” He pulls me back hard enough that I stumble into him, laughing when I lose my footing and take him down with me.
“Wanker,” he huffs as I land on top of him, but then we both crack up and it’s a good few minutes of breathless laughter before we manage to get upright again. “I need a piss after that.” He sets his glass on a nearby table and disappears back into the pub, weaving as he goes.
I go to sit at the picnic bench and almost miss the bench entirely. Fuck me, I didn’t think I was that drunk.
It hits me as soon as I sit down that I also need a piss. The thought of going back into the hot, sweaty pub holds exactly zero appeal so instead I wander around the back of the pub into the trees behind it.
It’s darker than I expected, and I have to concentrate hard to avoid taking a header into the undergrowth. I’m too busy watching my feet and end up going further into the trees than planned, but I’d rather not get caught and arrested for pissing in a public place.
It’s a beautiful night, though, and after I’m finished, I walk to the edge of the tree line but don’t head back to our table. It’s quieter here, even though I’m not that far away from the pub, the sounds seem muted somehow.
A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and I realise with a jolt that I’m not the only one out here. My skin prickles with awareness, but for some reason I’m not scared. Maybe that’s the alcohol talking, but instead of hurrying back inside, I casually lean against the tree next to me and wait.
It doesn’t take long until I see someone stumbling through the trees. It’s too dark to see their face clearly, but they’re tall and broad and definitely male. My stomach tightens as he comes to an abrupt halt about fifteen feet away and his head snaps up.
He’s got his hood up, so I can’t see his eyes, but I feel his gaze on me. Feel it taking me in from head to toe and back again.
“Who the fuck’re you?” The words slur a little, like maybe he’s as drunk as me.
“Who’reyou?” I ask instead of answering because I’m not giving my name to a fucking stranger, no matter how hot my drunk self thinks he might be.
He grunts and copies me by leaning against the tree beside him, then crooks his finger, beckoning me over.
Not a chance.
“Come here,” he drawls, and I have zero intention of obeying, but there’s something in his voice that seeps into me, all warmth and invitation, and my body moves like it’s on autopilot.
When I’m within arm’s reach, he wraps his hand around mine and tugs me hard enough that I fall forward into his veryfucking solid chest. I let out anoomph, but words catch in my throat as he buries his nose in the crook of my neck and inhales.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he murmurs, sending a shiver through me.
Man, that voice.
