Page 6 of Full Out Fiend

She looks up, and I swear she inches closer. The alley is dark, but not so dark that I can’t see the way she’s assessing me. It doesn’t feel sexual or like she’s checking me out. Her head is tilted, her thoughtful expression morphing into bewilderment when I don’t turn away from her appraisal. I feel completely exposed to her in this moment, but I don’t hate it. It’s like she’s probing my integrity and analyzing who I am on the inside.

She’s trying to figure me out. Eventually, I shudder involuntarily under the intensity of her stare.

A few breaths pass, then something shifts between us. It feels like a decision has been made. When she speaks, her voice is soft and vulnerable.

“This morning, my fiancé got on a plane to Vegas for his bachelor party. Before takeoff, he had his brother text me. He wanted me to know we both had “free passes” this weekend. By the time I read the text, Anthony had already turned his phone off, and I had no way to reach him.”

What the actual fuck?

“I’ve put up with a lot over the years… we’ve been together since I was a sophomore in high school. But I won’t stand for this. I’m done.”

She clears her throat and pulls her shoulders back before she speaks again.

“I’m calling off the wedding. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

The resolve in her declaration is poignant. And hot as hell. She doesn’t say anything else—instead, she leans back against the bricks on her side of the alley and blows out another long breath that transforms into a sigh.

I gulp down the discomfort that’s lodged in my throat. I don’t know where to even start after that confession, so I jump to the most obvious question. I think I already know the answer, but I’m still compelled to ask.

“All those girls in there with you…” I trail off, hoping she gets my drift.

“They know nothing. Only my best friend Serena knows what actually happened… and what I’m going to do. I’m just here playing a part. Most of my bridal party consists of Anthony’s cousins and friends, so I couldn’t very well cancel tonight without them coming up with their own theories.”

Holy. Shit.

“Damn, angel. This really isn’t your night.”

“It wasn’t. But then you showed up, and now I’m thinking it could be?” she counters without missing a beat.

My body snaps to attention as I search her face. She’s looking up at me with those gorgeous pale eyes through dark, thick lashes, biting on her lower lip in clear invitation.

Fuck me.

I would take this woman home in a heartbeat. Let her wrap those thighs around my head until I had properly suffocated, died, and gone to heaven. Or hell. Either option works if it means I get to spend a night with her.

But I’m not exactly a catch. Most of my conquests these days are consensual but intoxicated encounters to pass the time. I am, without a doubt, the most emotionally unavailable human at this bar. Probably in the whole fucking city. I’m still not over a relationship that never even existed, for fuck’s sake.

But right now, I’m sober and peering down at an insanely attractive woman who’s made me feel more in the last ten minutes than I have in the last two years.

There’s something here. And if she feels it, too—who am I to deny her?

This girl is clearly looking for an outlet and trying to get over someone she thought she loved. We’re both broken. Maybe we could be enough for each other for tonight.

“So what do you say, Fielding?Istonight going to be my night?”

It’s an offer. A challenge. A moment of truth. Lucky for her, my personal version of truth has never bent in an arc of morality and justice. My version of truth takes what it wants, consequences be damned.

“I think it is,” I confirm with a smirk.

Chapter 5

Fielding

Ittakeslessthantwo strides to close the space between us. My hand instinctively weaves into the hair at her nape, fingers curling into the thick mane and tilting her head up.

I bend.

She rises.