The Ex Files Page 3

  “Come here.” Damian reached out and she stepped closer. He put his arms around her—totally platonically—and rubbed her back. He kept his pelvis, and the erection he’d mentally talked into mostly deflating, pulled back from her. “Most men are asses, Jane. Maybe you’re alone because you’re not willing to put up with an ass.”

  She nodded against his chest, her arms wrapped around his back. “Yeah. I broke up with a jackass last month. Besides all his other bad traits, like being cheap and obnoxious and really bad in bed, the dickhead refused to wear a condom ever. I had to go to the doctor and get birth control pills or risk having a little dickhead running around. What an asshole.”

  “I agree. He sounds like an ass.” Damian’s cock rose once again. He had no issue wearing a condom, but the thought of sinking into Jane without one had him hardening further.

  “I stayed on the stupid pills after I dumped him, but I haven’t even had so much as one stinking date since. So that’s why I need to go home and find my old book if I ever want to have steady sex again with a man who isn’t an ass. You’re not an ass.” Jane raised her head from where it had pressed against his shirt. “You’re really…nice…”

  Her rambling words trailed off as Jane’s gaze dropped to his mouth. She rose onto her tiptoes until her lips hovered just out of reach.

  “Thanks.” He managed to swallow before her mouth pressed to his.

  Soft and gentle, her lips caressed his. She drew in a sharp breath through her nose but didn’t break contact. The soft sound that came from low in her throat had his dick rising to full tilt. When Jane did pull away, she remained barely a breath from him. She stayed there, waiting.

  He didn’t make her wait too long. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” She followed willingly, if a bit wobbly, as he pulled her by the hand toward the door.

  “Upstairs.” As he spoke, he located the bar’s front door key on the heavily loaded ring.

  “What’s upstairs?” She stepped through the doorway after him and onto the sidewalk.

  “My apartment.” He turned back to lock the door and glanced at her. “That okay? I figured you can sober up a little, then I’ll call you a cab.”

  Damian tried to convince himself that was really the reason he wanted her upstairs in his apartment as he waited for her answer.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  His heart thudded. Damn, he really liked this woman. The realization hadn’t hit him until that kiss, but now, it was definitely there. He led her to the door directly next to the one they’d just exited. It opened to the staircase that led to the second floor apartments of the building. Convenient, yes, but to date he’d never brought a woman from the bar up there. It was a little too close for comfort for him usually, yet he was bringing Jane upstairs now. Why was that? What was different about her?

  Jane stumbled a bit and reality hit him. She was pretty trashed. Damian wanted a repeat of that kiss, but was now really the time considering she was so drunk? Sadly he had a feeling it might be now or never for the two of them. He could tell she was the kind of woman who would never have kissed him if she hadn’t been drunk. There were insecurities hiding behind the tough attorney persona. He’d seen it in her on various levels—usually after various levels of drinking.

  One flight up, he got out yet another key and opened his apartment door, swinging it wide for her. “Home, sweet home.”

  Home wasn’t the only sweet thing, so was Jane’s kiss as her mouth crashed into his the moment the door closed with them both inside. With one hand beneath each cheek of her ass, he hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he walked them to the couch. He flopped back onto the cushion, sitting with Jane in his lap. Facing him. Straddling him. Grinding against the bulge in his pants that there was no hope of hiding now.

  Her tongue thrust against his in time with the motion of her pelvis. Her tiny sounds of pleasure increased along with her rapid breathing. She pressed harder against him. If she kept this up, he’d come in his pants from the friction alone. Which was sounding pretty good at the moment since in spite of the near throbbing need broadcasting from his dick, his brain had already decided that as much as he’d like to, he was not going to have sex with this particular woman while she was drunk.

  Hands on her ass, he guided her motion against him. As the pressure and speed of their simulated sex increased, Damian groaned. She answered with a low moan of her own. She pulled her lips away. With her mouth open and eyes closed she started to shake. He watched her face as the orgasm broke through her, all while she continued to ride him. It was a beautiful sight.

  Experiencing it from inside her would have been even better. He didn’t regret his decision to not do more with Jane in her inebriated condition, but damn he sure regretted missing out on sharing more actively in what he knew would feel incredible for both of them.

  She opened her eyes, though barely. Jane was tired, drunk and satisfied, and if Damian knew anything at all, he knew she’d be asleep in moments.

  “That was amazing.” He stroked from her back to her neck, settling his hand there beneath the silky fall of her hair.

  She nodded sleepily. Even if he did break his vow to himself and take her to his bed, she’d be totally out of it. When—if—he had the pleasure of this woman in his bed, he’d like her to be awake and remember it. Both were doubtful right now.

  He smiled at her. “You wanna lay down and rest your eyes for a little while?”

  Jane nodded again. She crawled off his lap and sprawled on the cushion next to him. Her eyelids drifted shut. Damian hoisted himself up. Adjusting the rock hard dick pressing uncomfortably into the zipper of his work pants, he made his way to his bedroom. He grabbed the comforter from his bed and looped it over his arm. He carried it back out to the living room and covered Jane, who was breathing slow and steady, asleep already and looking peaceful and tempting at the same time.

  With a sigh, he broke away from thoughts of how nice it would have been had there been no clothes between them. If he’d allowed himself to plunge into her, to feel her body grip his as she came.

  Damian headed for the bathroom and flipped on the hot water. He needed to both wash the day’s dirt from his body, and relieve the ache Jane had caused.

  He stepped over the edge of the tub and let the showerhead’s steaming water hit him hard as he faced the spray full on. A handful of shampoo cleaned his hair with enough suds left over for him to grab his cock and stroke it, hard and fast. Legs spread wide, he braced himself by gripping the curtain rod with one hand and closed his eyes.

  A vision of Jane’s face as she came filled his mind. He stroked harder and breathed heavier. He imagined fucking her not like she was now, drunk and unaware, but rather laughing and bright eyed. Looking at him like she wanted him and only him, here and now. Like he’d caught her looking at him sometimes when he was working and she didn’t know he’d seen her.

  He drew in a sharp breath. His cock pulsed in his fist as he shot off into the pounding water. He kept pumping hard with his hand, letting the hard spray hit the sensitive tip until the pleasure began to turn to pain, then he released his hold. He leaned into the stream and braced both hands on the wall as the water ran from his head, over his shoulders and down his back.

  He wanted more. He wanted her. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to be. For now.

  Chapter Three

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  As consciousness began to creep in, Jane cracked one eyelid open, then immediately slammed it shut as the pain seared through her head. She really wanted to open her eyes too because her addled brain had registered the deep, sultry voice which had spoken to her and decided it had sounded vaguely familiar and pretty damn nice.

  Who the hell was it? More importantly, where was she and why was she here?

  She tried to open her eyes again but only managed to groan. Flinging her arm over her face, she rolled onto her back and immediately regretted it as her stomach roiled.

  “Holy hell, what happened to me?” She sounded so scratchy, she barely recognized her own voice.

  “Tequila shots happened to you.”

  Jane groaned. “I never drink tequila.”

  “You did last night when you moved from chocolate martinis to the coffee-flavored Patron your friend wanted to try.”

  Chocolate martinis. The bar.

  It all started to come back to her, along with the realization the voice she’d heard was familiar because it was Damian’s.

  “Where am I?” Perhaps if he answered her, and the answer was acceptable, she wouldn’t have to open her eyes or move for a little bit longer. On the floor behind the bar would be okay with her right about now if it meant she didn’t have to move anytime soon.

  “In my apartment.”

  “Your apartment?” Jane’s eyes flung open and a wave of nausea hit her along with the feeling of an ice pick stabbing into her brain. Dammit. If she’d had sex with him and couldn’t remember it because she’d been too drunk, she’d be really pissed. “I, uh, hate to have to ask this, but how did it happen that I’m waking up in your apartment?”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “No.” She stifled the urge to groan as she imagined all sorts of things.

  “Well, after all the wild sexual intercourse we had last night, I figured it was rude to throw you out into the street. And you certainly couldn’t drive, so I let you sleep here on the couch.”

  Pawing through her foggy memories, and appalled she was coming up empty when it came to last night, Jane dared to glance at him. He was grinning.

  “Kidding, Jane. We didn’t have sex, wild or other.”

  She let out a breath, though on some level that was kind of disappointing. “Really?” r />
  “Really.” Damian laughed and walked from behind the kitchen island with two coffee mugs in his hand. He handed one to her.

  She cradled the ceramic with two palms to keep it from shaking as she brought it to her lips. The hot liquid, just the right sweetness and color, slid over her tongue. “This is perfect. How did you know how I like my coffee?”

  “You ordered it once last year. I remembered.” He shrugged, looking even more gorgeous in the morning in sweatpants with his hair messed from sleep than he did behind the bar at night in his white button-down shirt and black trousers.

  “You have a good memory.” Jane took another sip since the first one hadn’t threatened to come back up her throat from her gurgling stomach yet. Aside from that, she made a concerted effort to not move too much until her headache subsided.

  “And you have a hangover.” He laughed.

  “So true.” She couldn’t deny it. Jane let out a sigh. “I’m very sorry.”

  He frowned. “Sorry for what?”

  “For whatever I might have said or done, or thrown up on last night.” She hated not remembering things she’d done while drunk, which was one reason she hadn’t gotten this drunk in years. Not since law school. It was disconcerting. Dangerous too, if Damian hadn’t been there to take care of her.

  Jane didn’t dare think of what she might have revealed last night. She’d probably tried to rip his clothes off or told him she masturbated to thoughts of him sometimes after seeing him at the bar. How humiliating.

  “You didn’t do anything bad so don’t worry.”

  She glanced at him, saw his smirk and groaned. “I don’t believe you.”

  Damian laughed. “Why not?”

  “Because you totally don’t have a poker face. I did something embarrassing last night. I can tell by looking at you. Just tell me what it was so I can apologize and then slink away in my humiliation.” She needed to know how bad it was so she could gauge how long she’d have to avoid the bar and him.

  “It was nothing—”

  “Tell me.”

  Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. You just admitted you hadn’t had sex in a little awhile.” He paused. “And that you burned out the motor on your vibrator.”

  Jane groaned. “Oh God. I don’t want to even think about how I came to be telling you all that.” A horrible idea struck her. What if he edited the story to not embarrass her? Maybe she didn’t want to find out any more.

  “You were talking about how you had to get home and find some book so you could start having steady sex again.” He sipped at his coffee. Jane had a feeling it was an attempt to hide his smile behind the mug.

  She put her cup down and covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been working really hard lately. I haven’t made relationships a priority.”

  Damian, looking totally comfortable having coffee with his unexpected overnight guest, was sprawled in the chair opposite Jane as she remained perched on the very edge of the couch.

  He nodded. “I know you work hard, but sex shouldn’t be work. That’s the difference between men and women. If a man wants to get laid, he’ll go out and do it. Sometimes with women it seems like it’s a big production. There has to be this whole buildup toward a relationship. Every date is like a job interview for a potential long-term boyfriend or husband.”

  “Not true. Women can just have sex with no strings.” Jane had done it with Jim.

  She could definitely very happily have sex with no strings attached with Damian. Not that he would want any sex at all with her. Hot twenty-something bartenders who had boob-baring girls throwing themselves at them nightly did not go for a thirty-year-old lawyer wearing a boring navy blue suit, and who had small breasts and a big butt.

  “Oh, sure they can.” Damian’s voice dripped with sarcasm to accompany his eye roll.

  “Seriously, I can do it.”

  “Uh, huh.” He cocked a brow and stared her down, as if daring her to tell the truth.

  Jane pursed her lips. “Fine, think what you want, but it doesn’t say very much about men that sex means nothing at all to them, now does it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said to men, or at least to me, not all sex has to mean something, but some sex can mean everything.” His gaze locked with hers. “See the difference?”

  God, to be the one woman who meant something to the man who usually felt nothing. She swallowed hard. “You really mean that?”

  Damian nodded. “Definitely.”

  This might have been the most surreal conversation of her life. Sitting in last night’s clothes, actually, yesterday’s work outfit, discussing the philosophy of sex with her bartender over coffee.

  He stood. “How do you like your eggs?”

  Jane raised a brow. “You’re going to cook breakfast for me?”

  “Sure. See, since we didn’t have sex, I don’t have to be an unfeeling bastard and throw you out right away so you don’t fall in love with me.” He waited a beat. “Kidding again. Jeez, you have no faith in men at all do you.”

  Damian stepped behind the island and whipped out a frying pan.

  “I do have faith in men... I think.” She rose, very slowly, and staggered her way to the barstool at the kitchen island. With Damian behind the counter, it felt strangely like they were back at the bar. “And if you really are willing to cook for me, I could use some scrambled eggs and toast if you’ve got any, to absorb this alcohol. I never got around to eating dinner last night. I don’t think. Did I?”

  She frowned. Maybe she’d eaten and forgotten.

  “No, you didn’t. Unless you count the bowl of pretzels I put in front of you when you looked like you were about to take a nap on my bar.”

  Jane groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Really. It’s mine. I should have realized a martini and a few shots on an empty stomach would do that to you. You usually have two wines and you’re tipsy.”

  That was totally true, and pretty messed up this man knew more about her than most people in her life who were much closer to her.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, Damian. It’s Candice’s for ordering the martini in the first place.” Realization hit Jane. “And what the hell? She just left me there drunk and sleeping on the bar and went home?”

  “She tried to call you a cab, but you insisted you would do it yourself after she left.” With a fork, he beat the eggs he’d cracked into a bowl. The scraping sound reverberated louder than it should through Jane’s skull. Frowning, she touched her forehead just above her throbbing eye socket.

  Damian glanced at her. “I’ll get you something for your headache after you eat. With no food in your stomach it will only make you feel worse.”

  Jane stared at him. He knew her head hurt, he knew her stomach was about to rebel and he was going to feed and take care of her. This guy was amazing. And he was also not interested in her. If he had been she would have woken up in his bed naked instead of on his couch in yesterday’s clothes.

  She swallowed that cold hard reality away with another sip of coffee and glanced at her knight in shining armor who was only being polite and waiting on her, like he always did at the bar. “You really are an expert on taking care of drunks, aren’t you?”

  “That’s mainly because I’ve been on the other side of the bar plenty of times myself. That was before I quit drinking.”

  “Oh.” Jane cringed at her mistake. He didn’t drink. She’d probably brought up what could be a touchy subject. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  He laughed. “Nothing to apologize about. I’m not a recovering alcoholic or anything. I just decided one day I didn’t need all the booze and drugs to have a good time. I still have a drink now and then, socially, but I don’t do the drink-until-you-puke thing anymore. I’ve woken up too many times and had to figure out how I got there and who the hell the naked girl, or guy, or people were next to me.”

  That image had Jane’s eyes opening wide even as her insides twisted with excitement. Sexually, Damian had probably done more in his short life than Jane would ever do in all of hers. It made him seem so wild and dangerous. Like a forbidden fruit she would never taste, so she wanted it twice as badly.

  Not noticing her reaction to his admission as he poured the eggs into the hot pan. She watched as the tribal tattoo circling his bicep peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. Jane wondered if there was any other ink hidden by his clothing. It would be really nice to find out.