Page 1

Harper

Damn this guy was a good kisser.

When he knows how much tongue is just enough to get you thinking about it moving lower, seeing what else it could do.

When his hand cradles the back of your head and holds you firmly, but not aggressively, in place.

When he tastes like rum and mint, and while you’d never thought of that as a winning combination before, you did now. I should know.

As someone who was perpetually on the dating apps, I’d kissed a whole lot of frogs, and while I was fairly sure this guy wasn’t going to turn into a prince, I was beginning to think it might be worth going back to his place to give him the royal treatment.

As if hearing my thoughts, he pulled away, both of us smiling spontaneously as we were forced to suck in breaths.

That moment, when our eyes locked and the chemistry between us was undeniable.

It was always so perfect. In some ways, I wanted to end the date here, because the minute he spoke, we took things further, that was when it would all go to shit.

He’d leave the toilet seat up or snore all night. He’d fart in bed, or worse, didn’t believe in going down on a girl. Something, anything, would happen and I’d get the ick so damn bad I’d leave his place with a screech of my car tyres.

“So…” Brad, or was it Chad? His eyelids dropped lower as he stared at me. “Do you want to take this somewhere a little more private?”

Oh yeah, we were making out in the car park like a couple of kids with parents waiting at home. I glanced around, thankful that we weren’t giving other pub patrons a show.

“Maybe…”

I ran my hand down his chest, glorying in the broad span of it, the smattering of chest hair and the tattoos that peeked out from behind his collar. Yeah, I wanted to inspect each one of them up close and personal.

“Maybe?” Another kiss and another, little nipping things that made my head spin and my thighs start to rub together. “What do I need to do to convince you?”

Have a Hitachi Magic Wand on charge, I thought. Be able to breathe out your ears and have a tongue that doesn’t quit. Of course I didn’t say that. Instead, my hand slid down the front of those jeans. I’d been checking him out for the entire date. His arse looked biteable and his dick…

Damn.

I looked down, and he grinned as my finger fought to grip him.

OK, packing that much heat, he didn’t need to be a prince. A girl likes to feel a bit of stretch sometimes and it looked like Brad-Chad was going to give me just that.

“Alright, big guy.” I tried to keep my tone light, but managed to choke that out instead. Pretty sure that wouldn’t be the only time tonight. “Let’s go back to your place…”

Dating so many guys made me exquisitely aware of vibe changes.

Had to be just in case they were mass murderers or something.

I wasn’t getting Jeffrey Dahmer vibes right now, but something cooled his ardour faster than if I admitted it was the day before my waxing appointment and things were gonna be a bit stubbly.

I looked up and caught the moment he smiled again, though the expression was completely different.

“I thought we could go back to yours.”

He tried to trail his fingers down the side of my face, but I stiffened.

“Don’t want to do that…” Shit, I had to take a guess at his name. I couldn’t call him Chad-Brad all night. “Brad.”

“Chad,” he corrected, his gaze hardening by the second.

“Right, well, unless you get off on the thought of my flatmate outside my bedroom door making ape noises as we have hot monkey sex, going back to mine is not on the cards.” I plucked open one of his buttons and slid my hand in under the velvety soft flannelette shirt.

“So unless it’s the maid’s day off, if you want this?—”

“I want this.”

He slapped his hand down on the roof of my car, towering over me and yep, we were back in sexy territory. I looked up at him through my lashes.

“Then take me to your place or lose me forever, stud.”

I thought that was sexy, but apparently no. Chad went still again. Vibes were off. I repeat, vibes were off and that had my Spidey sense tingling. Why the hell was this guy running hot and cold on me?

“Um…” Great start, Chad, I thought, watching his brow crease as he struggled to come up with an excuse. “Look, my sister is at my place.”

“Sister…?”

My eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Sister,” he repeated with too much emphasis, nodding along to his own story. “She’s staying on the couch at the moment and… what?”

Yeah, I was not boning this guy tonight, not even with someone else’s vagina.

I inspected him closely, looking for signs.

The shirt was well pressed, but in theory Brad knew his way around an iron.

The jeans were in worn, but good condition.

His hand… I held it up to look more closely at it in the glow of the streetlights.

Subtle, but that ring of paler skin was there.

“You’re married.”

Desertification is the process by which previous arable land becomes dry and sandy, and right now that described my vagina.

“What? No.”

“What?” I mimicked his tone perfectly. “Yes, you are.”

I grabbed my phone and snapped a quick photo of him, catching his deer-in-the-headlights expression perfectly. Are we dating the same guy groups were my lifeline in single girl hell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I went very quiet, very still, realising now what a mistake this was.

We were standing out in an empty car park outside a pub where some terrible cover band was making enough noise to drown out any cries for help I might make.

Chad seemed to realise what he was doing, swallowing hard and then trying to salvage the situation.

“Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up.”

“Bring up what, Brad?” I snapped, surreptitiously bringing up the video app on my phone. If he was going to murder me horribly, I wanted evidence so my best friend, Daria, could avenge me. “What did you neglect to tell me before we decided to do the no pants dance?”

“I am married?—”

“Boy, bye.”

I turned around, not giving a shit what he did right now, but he was at my door when I went to unlock it.

“But we have an open marriage.” He settled against my front fender, talking faster and faster as I wrenched the door open. “Monogamy is just a construct, y’know?”

“Monogamy is a choice.” Suddenly I was all prim.

“As is polyamory or whatever kinky shit the two of you are in.” I stopped midway into the car.

“If she even knows what you’re after.” I looked down at my phone, and the way he went white made clear his lie.

“So unless you want to find your face plastered all across the local Are We Dating The Same Guy group, you are gonna back the fuck off.”

Yeah, he jerked himself away so fast it was as if my car was made of molten lava.

“Pro tip.” I jabbed my finger in the air, well and truly pissed now. “Let a girl know what your deal is before we get past the messaging stage. If I got the go ahead from your wife, this might’ve gone differently.”

He watched my fingers touch my lips, and for a moment, hope sprang eternal. I shut that shit down fast.

“But you didn’t, so maybe you should go back to your ‘sister’ and see if she wants to torpedo the great white whale there.

” I gave the shape of his massive wang one last look.

Pretty sure it would’ve gone up in the size queen hall of fame.

“I only like being fucked by big dicks, not being treated like shit by one.”

I was in my car and had the engine fired up before I reversed out of the car park. My wheels spun gravel all over Brad as I roared out and onto the road.

“Siri, play All Men Are Dicks playlist,” I told my phone as I put more and more kilometres between me and the pub. Ani DiFranco’s raspy tones came through the speakers, her poetic rage helping me feel my own.

But what did I expect?

Growing up I’d been forced to endure a parade of Mum’s boyfriends, each one worse than the last. Susie Quinn didn’t do single, that had been made clear to me the moment she split from Dad. How the hell did I manage to convince myself to go on this date in the first place?

“Hey…” Daria was my flat mate, ride or die bestie, and all round partner-in-crime. “That was quick. Did he forget to brush his teeth? No.” She poked her finger in my direction. “Mouth breathe too noisily? Um… was his profile photo about ten years out of date?”

“Are you done?” I asked, plopping down on the chair beside her. The bottle of tequila was drawn closer and I licked my hand, sprinkling salt on it before downing a shot, then sucking down a slice of lime. “He was married.”

“Again?” Her yelp had my eyes narrowing so she held up her hands in surrender. “C’mon, you gotta admit there’s been a few.”

“Another ‘open marriage’ guy,” I said and we both groaned at that.

“Polyamory is real, but fuck, has it become the cheater’s cover of choice.” Daria leaned over and poured me a very hefty shot before pushing another piece of lime my way. “Dating apps are the freaking worst.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said and did just that.

“You know what we need to do.”

“Not drive anywhere.” I looked at the bottle in alarm because she was pouring more shots with a heavy hand. “Because what the hell are we drinking to?”

“Broke up with my latest guy,” she said, and that smile told me everything. It was the one you plastered on your face to cover up the cracks that were forming in your heart.

“Finance guy?” I asked.

That earned me a dark look.

“That was the one from a couple months ago.”

“Ahh… lawyer guy?” I suggested.

“The one before Frank.”

Her frown made clear I was just digging myself deeper at this point.

“Frank… Frank…” I made a show of tapping my chin, but I knew who he was. Some Mr. Big knock off in Armani suits, he’d swept Daria off her feet when he came into the bar she worked at. A lot of suits tried that on, so the fact he succeeded said a lot about him. “Shit. You liked him.”