He's Mine Not Hers Read online

  He could have pretended to be Medusa, and I’d have fucked him with my eyes closed anyway.

  “Ugh, you should probably get that,” he stated, pointing over the edge of the bed.

  With a harrumph, I rolled off the mattress, my movements sluggish. We’d fallen asleep late, and I needed coffee before attempting the short trek down the street where I had parked my car. I would kiss the sidewalk if it was in the same place where I had left it. I hadn’t seen a problem parking down the street because I didn’t plan to stay overnight, but a whole night was more than enough time for someone to steal it.

  By the time I located my jeans strewn on the floor with the rest of my clothes, the phone had stopped ringing. I grabbed it along with my shirt but couldn’t find my boxers anywhere.

  “I think this is yours.”

  I glanced up from where I was about to search under the bed, to find him clutching my gray boxers between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed them from him, not sure why I felt disappointed. I wasn’t looking for anything more out of last night than casual sex. Damn, I really hate the morning after pointless sex. I needed to put my dick on some kind of travel ban. No travel permit allowed inside anybody’s body part.

  “What time is it?” he asked me, and I peered at my phone as I dressed.

  “Ten minutes to seven.”

  “Fuck!”

  I glanced over at him as I pulled my shirt over my head. “Do you have any coffee by chance? You don’t have to get up. I can make myself a cup.”

  “Umm.” He licked his lips and clutched at the sheet. “I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t really want to be mean or anything, but you can’t. You should really go.”

  Well, that fucking hurt even though this was a one-night stand. Not even a cup of coffee?

  “Where are my shoes?” I asked, looking around but not finding them.

  “I think you kicked them off in the hall.”

  I strode for the bedroom door. “Okay then, thanks for last night.”

  What else was there to say to a guy who couldn’t even make you a goddamn cup of coffee after riding you like the best damn stallion all night? I strangely felt used. I was used to it, but it never bothered me before.

  “Hey, look, I’m sorry.”

  I glanced up from the hall where I had indeed found my shoes. I leaned against the wall while pulling on my socks.

  “Nothing to apologize for,” I replied. “We both got what we wanted last night. I—”

  The jiggling of the doorknob interrupted the rest of what I was about to say.

  “Shit!”

  Before I knew it, I was being pushed into a kitchen. In reality, he shouldn’t be able to move me, but I was so startled I didn’t know what else to do but go along with it.

  “What the—”

  His hand came down over my mouth, his eyes wide. “He can’t know you’re here. I’ll distract him. You get the fuck out of here quietly, and do not mess this up for me!” He jabbed his finger perilously close to my eye, and I turned my head to avoid a possible mishap because I wasn’t losing an eye to help him cover up the error of his ways.

  His hand left my mouth, and he hurried from the kitchen. “Hey, baby, I wasn’t expecting you back so early.”

  I felt sick to my stomach at what I had gotten myself into. I wouldn’t have minded a threesome when invited by both parties, but I drew the line at sleeping with men and women in exclusive relationships.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, then let out a quiet breath. I could hardly do anything about last night, but I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. This was the real reason he had asked me to park down the street from the apartment building. Pathetic horny fool that I was last night, I hadn’t wondered why. To be fair, I hadn’t planned on spending the night.

  “No, baby, not the kitchen. You should go lie down. I’m sure your business trip was stressful.” I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. Damn lying cheating bastard. Just like my ex. As it was turning out, there were way more Ralphs in the world.

  Why the fuck did I always pick the unscrupulous ones? What happened to single gay men just looking for some fun for a night? It was just my luck to gravitate to one guy who wasn’t suitable.

  “I missed you so fucking much,” a stranger’s voice replied, and I heard kissing and something dropping on the floor. “Anybody touched you while I was gone?”

  “What the fuck! Why do you have to ask that stupid question? It’s like you don’t even trust me, so why the hell are we doing this anyway?”

  Jesus, the bastard’s good. If Ralph had been half as good, we might have made it down the altar.

  “Babe, don’t walk away in a huff. I’m sorry.”

  “One time, Levi! I mess up one time, and you’ll never let me forget it. You said you forgave me, but if you’re going to bring it back up every fucking time you go out of town, then you haven’t forgiven me at all. You-you—”

  “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

  I rolled my eyes. Tears? Really? This guy deserved a fucking Tony Award. I was almost tempted to stick around to find out how everything turned out. I could give him the standing ovation he richly deserved.

  The second I heard the bedroom door slam, I took that as my cue to go. I still had my shoes in my hands, but I had no time to stop to put them on. I was in such a hurry, sprinting from the kitchen as quietly as possible that I didn’t see the briefcase in the hall until it was too late. I tried to stop my momentum, but my socks skidded across the floor.

  Not only did I hit the suitcase, but I careened into the door with a loud crash. Dazed from having the wind knocked out of me, I clutched the briefcase as if it would have prevented me from being seen when the bedroom door opened again and I found myself staring at a well-dressed man with his undone tie hanging around his neck by the two ends.

  “Who the hell is this?” he demanded from the guy by his side.

  “I-I don’t know. He must have broken in?”

  “Really?” I asked, climbing to my feet. “Fucking really?”

  “I knew it! I knew it, and you had me feeling bad because I thought you were fucking around.”

  What a fucking mess. Grabbing my shoes, I walked right out of the apartment while they were shouting obscenities at each other. I needed coffee stat to make sense of everything that had happened since receiving Becca’s one-line text.

  Jason’s come home.

  Leaning against the wall outside, I put on my shoes before I headed for the elevator. I was the same man who had left for work yesterday. Nothing had changed about me because some kid I knew was back in town. The churning in my stomach said otherwise, but I ignored it. I was good at that. Ignoring shit and convincing myself it had disappeared even when the stink of it was almost unbearable. I’d overlooked Ralph even when he reeked of infidelity, and that had been an epic disaster.

  Once I was out of the apartment building, I headed for my vehicle, sighing in relief that I could see it from my position. I didn’t kiss the road, but I dropped a light kiss to my SUV. I had bought this baby last year believing I was about to get a promotion at my job. Gustave, our head chef, was supposed to have retired, but he hadn’t. He left a month ago though, so the position was as good as mine. The manager had all but told me that I was next in line. Finally. I had been working at that restaurant for ten years. My job was the most committed relationship I’d ever been in.

  I took out my phone to call Becca, longing to have a do-over of this morning when I saw the broken phone screen. For starters, I would have woken up in my own damn bed with sound bones that weren’t still throbbing from my fall.

  With a sigh, I speed-dialed her, and she answered on the second ring sounding breathless.

  “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night!” she cried.

  “Sorry, I was unavailable.”

  “No kidding. Where are you? You sound even more ‘bear’ than usual.”

  I reached for my pocket to
find my key, but even before I finished patting down, I knew I didn’t have them on me because I’d thrown them on the bedside table last night.

  “Oh my God, I really need a do-over of last night,” I murmured.

  “What’s going on, Lucas?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, not wanting the latest escapade of my life to reach Jason. Those two shared everything, and by everything I meant down to the number of times they flossed per day everything.

  “Another disastrous date I bet,” she said on a laugh. “When will you allow me to pick out your dates for you?”

  “When you start picking better ones for you,” I replied wondering what to do next. How the fuck was I going to return to that apartment, knock on the door, and ask for my keys? There was no amount of politeness in the world to make that go down smoothly.

  “Ouch, someone’s bitchy this morning,” she remarked. “You know what always cheers you up? Being around Jason and me. We’re going out later tonight to celebrate him coming home. Want to come with us?”

  “I can’t,” I answered. “I-I have stuff to do.” Like avoiding your son who got this crazy idea in my head that I can be his daddy.

  “Well, that’s disappointing. I hope you can make it.”

  “I really doubt I will, Becca.” And because my tone was hard and biting, I softly added, “I’m sorry, but I’ll take a rain check. I know with Jason there you’ll have a good time though.”

  “Yes, and it’s even better now that he can drink.”

  I groaned, wanting to lecture her about not getting her son drunk. That was hardly the kind of thing a mother encouraged in a son yet alone partook in, but Becca would always be Becca. She loved her son, but she had no idea most times about being a mother. No wonder she declared her son her BFF with an extra F. Her words not mine.

  “Just be responsible.”

  “Well, that’s no fun. Call me when you’re not in a bitching mood. Whoever left with your testicles last night, you should go hunt them down.”

  “Becca!”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going. I’m going.”

  She hung up, and I stuffed my phone into my pocket. I had no other option but to go back to the apartment and get my keys.

  Yeah, right. Not going to happen. I pried my phone back from my pants to call a cab. I could go home, get my spare key and return for my car. There was no way in hell I was going to put myself in the way of the bloodbath that was possibly going on.

  Chapter Three

  Jason

  “This is all your fault,” I choked out, glaring at Becca before I returned to hurling in the toilet. Last night’s mimosas and margaritas came spewing like a fountain, and some friend that she was, Becca backed up instead of risking me getting gross stuff all over her pair of shoes. I couldn’t even be mad because I was sure I would want to borrow those shoes later but not if I got vomit all over them.

  Still, I despised her for looking so damn good the morning after we’d partied last night. I was a damn mess trying to hurl my intestines through my mouth.

  “My fault?” she parroted. “When you said you drank back in London, I thought that meant you had some experience. I didn’t expect you to be such a lightweight. You should know how much you can handle.”

  After hurling my guts out, I collapsed back against the floor. “I didn’t have more than one drink in London! I was in a freaking new city. I couldn’t tell who was real from who was fake. Of course I wasn’t going to get drunk in a strange place!”

  She nodded at me from the very safe distance at the bathroom door. “Well, I’m impressed. Shows you’ve been listening. Anyway, you’ll feel better soon. Just continue doing what you’re doing, and I’ll make myself useful and get you some coffee.”

  Continue doing what I’m doing? Well, that advice sucked. It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice in the matter if I didn’t want to choke on my own vomit.

  Before I could respond, she was gone. I didn’t mind. With her gone, everything was quiet, and the promise of coffee was already soothing to my stomach.

  With a moan, I curled up in a ball on the floor, the cool tile feeling great against my sweaty, heated skin. This had to be the end. Well, hopefully the end of the throwing up. I was so over it, and I doubted there was anything left to heave.

  If I somehow made it out of this alive, I would never touch another drink again. Okay, maybe one. One wouldn’t do any damage. Why the hell had I drunk so much anyway? I had been disappointed that Lucas had turned down spending the night with us.

  I clutched my stomach and waited for the bad feeling to pass. I hadn’t been in a mood to go out last night, but Becca had convinced me. Why oh why did I let her talk me into these things? They rarely ever went well.

  Partying would make you feel good, she’d said. Then why the hell couldn’t I stop feeling like a bounced check, coming in with so much potential before the big letdown?

  It’s impolite to turn down the hot guys who want to buy you drinks, she’d added. What she hadn’t said was that it would make you feel twice as rotten the next morning.

  Lesson learned. Never trust your best friend to know your alcohol limit especially when said best friend was guzzling drinks meant for me at a gay club.

  Several minutes passed, and I dozed off, content right there on the floor. Just some dirt and flowers, and I’d be happy. I might have looked high-maintenance, but I wasn’t hard to please. A certain hunk of six foot two inches with midnight hair and blue eyes, and I would be in domestic bliss. I wouldn’t want anything else from the universe. Are you listening, universe? One less person to cater to if you just give me what I want this time.

  A shock of cold water hit my face along with some stinging objects that frightened me awake. I spluttered, at first drowning in a scented bath and trying to claw my way up from the body of water that held me hostage.

  Heart pounding in my chest, I scrambled up to a sitting position, gasping for air and trying to make sense of what just happened.

  I swiped my face with one hand and came away with sweetly scented dried plants. I stared openmouthed at Becca, who stood over me, the crystal bowl that usually contained potpourri in one hand.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” I cried, scrambling to my feet lest she threw the bowl at my head next.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get you to wake up,” she replied. “You scared me silly.”

  “I scared you?” I bellowed, but the sound made my head hurt, so I said it again in a ferocious whisper. “I scared you? You almost drowned me in potpourri. I mean, I’d go out smelling damn nice, but that’s beside the point! I vaguely recall you promising me coffee not a drowning.”

  “Umm, about that.” She carefully picked her way across the wet floor, clinging to the sink as she slipped in her heels. She righted herself and replaced the bowl on the sink. “I couldn’t get the coffee machine to work.”

  I grabbed a towel from the cupboard beneath the sink and wiped at my face. “How hard is it to get the coffee machine to work? It’s just a bunch of buttons.”

  “I think it’s broken.”

  “You think? How can you not know?”

  “I always get one on the way to work. It’s easier, and I wouldn’t have anything to wash up afterward.”

  I shook my head at her and grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste. “You remember years ago when we had to reuse the same coffee beans to make them last longer? I bet you would have known if the coffee machine was working or not thirty years ago!”

  She gasped, hand going over her chest. “Why are all my friends being bitchy with me all of a sudden?” She spun on her heels and headed out the door.

  “Becca!”

  “One day you’re going to be an old hag and I’m going to remind you of this day!”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that would be ironic because she would be an even older hag, but she beat me to it.

  “Don’t even say it!”

  Shaking my head, I carefully brushed my teeth and only
gagged half a dozen times. I should probably take a shower, but I couldn’t make myself, so I splashed water in my face, searched the cabinet for two painkillers, and took them. I didn’t even bother to clean up the wet bathroom. I figured that could stay until my head didn’t pound and I could remember the middle name I didn’t have.

  Back in my bedroom, I fell face-first onto the bed. I reached for my giant teddy bear—the one Lucas had given me one Christmas as a joke but which I cherished. Wrapping my legs around the bear, I clutched it to my chest and fell asleep again.

  The next time I woke up, it wasn’t to potpourri hitting my face. This time it was the persistent ringing of the doorbell in the otherwise stillness of the apartment. As soundly as I had been sleeping, I was surprised I even heard it. I contemplated rolling over and going right back to sleep, but then whoever was outside jabbed onto the buzzer and the relentless peal wouldn’t allow me to return to sleep.

  The clock on the bedside table revealed it was some minutes after one in the afternoon. Ugh. I had planned to go job hunting today to have something to do until I had clients of my own.

  I rolled out of bed, appreciating the fact that somehow Becca had coaxed me out of last night’s ensemble and into one of my favorite sleepwear. The silk shorts ended below my butt, and the matching pink camisole top showed hints of my tummy when I moved.

  My mind was foggy enough that I walked into the wall once, forgetting I wasn’t in my flat in London. It was enough to wake me up before I did serious damage to my face. I might need it to get by in life in the event my talent didn’t work out.

  Shuffling my bare feet across the hall, I made a face. I felt like the alcohol had been sucked out of every pore of my skin, leaving me yucky and in need of a bath. As soon as I got rid of whoever was at the door, I would bask in the tub in Becca’s bathroom since I’d just had a shower. There was no way in hell I was going to make it job hunting today.