My Kinda Mess - eBook Read online

  “Where’d ya go there, Firecracker?”

  “What?” I stammer.

  “You just got this far-off look in your eyes and your breathing got all heavy,” he says, bending down until his mouth grazes against my ear. “It turned me on.”

  “Breathing turns you on,” I whisper.

  His chuckle fills my entire body with excitement. “You might be right there.”

  “You don’t have to take that out,” I say, nodding towards the garbage bag in his hand.

  “I’m already going out. No sense in you putting on shoes to run down the hall and throw out a bag of trash.”

  “Well, uh, thanks for stopping by.” OMG, stupid. Why’d you say that!? The look on his face is a cross between amusement and exhilaration. “Well, you know. Sorry about the disturbance.”

  Bringing his face close to mine (so, so freaking close), I allow myself the briefest moment of weakness and drink him in. His scent, the lines on his face, the way his lips curl upward just the slightest, and the way his dark eyes devour me from head to toe, everything about him makes me want to stand up and beg.

  “I’m not. Tonight might have been one of the best nights of my life. But you wanna know what would make it better?”

  Suddenly, too parched to speak, I just shake my head.

  “If I could steal a kiss from the prettiest girl in town.”

  “You know Mrs. Williams down on the first floor? She used to be Miss West Virginia back in 1942,” I reply, trying so hard to suppress my smile.

  “Hmmm, I’m sure Mrs. Williams was hot in her time, but I was thinking of someone a little younger. Someone with brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. Someone who’s feisty, stubborn, lives really close to me, and has a smart mouth. Damn, smart asses really turn me on.”

  “Should I be insulted that you called me stubborn?”

  “Would you prefer persistent?”

  “I’d prefer you not to think of me at all.”

  “See, Firecracker, I don’t believe you. Your eyes and the way your throat bobs give you away. I think you like it when I think of you, knowing that you’re consuming my thoughts and monopolizing all of my dreams. Because fuck, Firecracker, I think about you constantly. All. The. Damn. Time.”

  “You do?” I whisper, completely enthralled in the conviction of his words.

  “Fuck yes, I do.” Straightening up, he looks down at me from his full height. “I’ll see you soon, Lexi. And then I’m going to get that kiss.”

  My heart skitters and stammers in my chest, making it entirely hard to think straight. Just the thought of kissing those full lips makes my heart race and my panties wet. Should I be thinking about kissing my neighbor, especially since I’m no closer to being divorced than the last time I saw him? Hell no. Do I want him to kiss me and make me forget about all of the BS that’s weighing me down in my life? Hell. Yes.

  Where do I sign up for that?

  Before I can throw caution to the wind and my legs in the air, Linkin pulls my door open. Just as he does, a fist raps on his chest, making a weird thumping noise.

  “Alexis?”

  The sound of my name, coming from the person speaking it, makes my blood run cold and dread fill my body.

  “Chris, what are you doing here?”

  “Coming to see you,” he says, glancing between me and Linkin.

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to discuss these papers with you,” he says, pulling a wrinkled envelope from inside his jacket.

  “At nearly midnight? There’s nothing to discuss. Just sign them,” I tell him, feeling the tension rolling off Linkin.

  “No. I won’t sign them. I don’t want a divorce.”

  “I’m sorry, Chris, but I do.”

  “We can work this out, Alexis. I know it. Just let me in. I don’t even care if you’ve been…entertaining a friend.” The look Chris gives Linkin makes my stomach turn. It’s full of disdain and hatred. But Linkin doesn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, he sets the bag down on the floor, crosses his arms over his chest, and smirks at him. But it’s not the smirk he usually throws at me. This one speaks of annoyance and indifference.

  “No, Chris. You need to leave,” I state with conviction.

  “Why? Because you’re seeing someone? You just left and you’re already screwing another man? While we’re married? Were you screwing him behind my back the whole time? Is that it?”

  “Blow balls, Chris,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

  “You sound like your grandma,” he fumes, narrowing his eyes at me. He never liked it when I cursed or used crude language. Fuck that.

  “Don’t turn this around on me. You are the reason we’re separated. You’re the reason you’re holding divorce papers. But do you know what? You probably did me a favor,” I say, softening just a little. “We were on different paths. I can see that now. We wanted different things.”

  “How is wanting you so bad?” he whines. “I just want you.”

  “Well, I no longer want you. I’m not trying to hurt you, Chris, but you need to leave.”

  “This isn’t over,” he retorts, glancing at the giant standing next to me once more.

  “It’s very much over.” I hope he can hear the finality in my voice.

  “But I love you,” he whimpers, his eyes turning glassy.

  I can only stare at him. I used to be able to say those words in return, but over the last year, it became harder and harder. Whether he changed, I changed, or a little of both, I finally realized that I fell out of love with my husband. It wasn’t anything he did, per se, but something that gradually happened over time. We were too different. As much as I tried to make it work, I just couldn’t do it anymore.

  And finding that document under our bed was the final nail in the coffin.

  A new wave of anger washes over me as I take in his haggard appearance. His clothes looks wrinkled and I’m pretty sure there’s a stain on the end of his tie. His hair has seen better days and his nails look a little on the long side, like he’s missed one of his monthly manicure appointments he insisted he keep. Frankly, he looks like hell. But that’s not my fault or for me to worry about.

  Not anymore.

  “Go home, Chris.”

  “You’re my home,” he whispers.

  “Not anymore.” I hold the door, my grip turning white against the wood.

  Chris glances at Linkin once more, a snide look crossing his tired eyes. Linkin doesn’t seem fazed in the least, leaning casually against the doorjamb as if the entire exchange has bored him. Or maybe just that Chris has bored him.

  That makes two of us.

  Chris steps forward, his intentions clear. He leans forward as if to kiss my cheek, when a growl erupts from the man standing beside me. My soon-to-be ex-husband must reconsider his intended display of affection and quickly stands up straight, taking a retreating step. Honestly, the thought of feeling his lips on my skin makes me shiver.

  And not in the way I shiver when I think of Linkin’s lips on my body.

  “Good night, Alexis. We’ll talk soon,” he says, glancing once more to Linkin before returning his eyes to me. They’re pleading and full of sorrow, but I trample down a reaction. My reaction would be knee-jerk anyway and just cause him more pain.

  That alone says something. Even though he’s hurt me more than I ever imagined anyone could, I don’t want to cause him any more pain. Our marriage might be over and it might be the result of something completely unforgiveable that he did, but that doesn’t mean I want him to suffer.

  I just want him to go away.

  His shoulders are hunched as he makes his way to the elevator. Resolve fills my body as I watch him go, confirming that he just wasn’t the one for me. Not if he can so easily do what he did, killing the only dream I’ve ever had in the process.

  And killing me too.

  But I refuse to let him keep me down.

  In fact, I don’t need him, or any man
.

  “Does he come by often?” Linkin says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “No. In fact, both times you’ve been here.”

  “Good,” he smirks, those chocolate eyes lighting up with excitement. “I like being here, him seeing me with you.”

  “I’m not with you.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes and grabbing the garbage bag.

  “You want me to kiss you,” he says in a singsong voice, a wide smile crossing his too handsome face, as he takes the bag from my hands.

  “Do not,” I grumble, relinquishing the garbage and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Do too. But I’m not gonna, Firecracker. As much as you want me to, I’m not giving in to your taunts and reverse psychology,” he says, walking over to the shoot down the hall and disposing of the bag.

  “You are so full of yourself,” I say with a smile.

  “Maybe,” he says, walking back over to stand in front of me. Bending forward so that I can smell his too familiar scent, he adds, “But you still want me to kiss you.”

  “I don’t need your permission. If I wanted you to kiss me, I’d just do it myself.”

  “Doubtful,” he smirks, that smugness written all over his face. It makes my blood boil, but not in anger. No, I realize my heated body is for an entirely different reason. One that I shouldn’t entertain, but do anyway.

  Suddenly, my lips are on his and my arms are wrapped around his neck. Linkin stumbles a bit as the force of my body plastering to his catches him off guard, but he recovers quickly. His arms wrap around my waist, his hands dropping to grab my ass. His lips are warm and soft as they fuse to my own, eagerly taking the lead and deepening the kiss.

  My entire body flares to life with a need I’m unfamiliar with. Sure, I found Chris attractive and wanted to spend as much time with him naked as possible, but what I’m feeling with Linkin is so much livelier than ever before. It’s dirty and raw and makes me grind like a cat in heat as my legs lock around his waist.

  I’m pretty sure my cat is in heat right now.

  His tongue slides against mine, hot and wet, just like my core. I throb in a way I didn’t know was possible, and the thought of taking this to the next level with this man is probably the best idea. Ever. His lips command more as he moves, my back now pressed against the wall. That’s actually perfect, because now I can shamelessly grind my cat against his extremely hard, extremely big erection.

  Yay, me!

  But suddenly, he slows his kiss, those talented lips nipping and sucking at my swollen ones. “I knew it,” he pants.

  “What?”

  “That you wanted me to kiss you.” Even though I can’t see it, I can feel the smug smirk.

  I give his chest a slight shove, putting a little space between us. Well, as much space as I can, considering I’m still wrapped around his waist like a jungle cat. “Technically, I kissed you,” I respond, my mind still firing on only half its cylinders.

  “Best first kiss ever.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t be so sure about that,” I answer as I lower my legs until he has no choice but to set me down. “That was a one-time deal.”

  “I’ll let you have your moment, Lexi, but I can guaran-fucking-tee you that it wasn’t an isolated incident. There will be more kisses, Firecracker. I know it.”

  “Whatever,” I retort, lamely, knowing damn well that he’s correct. There’s no way that after tasting those lips I’ll ever be able to stay away from him.

  Which is why I must bid him farewell and head inside. Between the alcohol and the ex showing up, my mind is all whacky. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the earth-shattering, panty-soaking kisses he just administered. Nope. No way.

  Except I’d be wrong.

  Because those kisses were everything.

  And that scares the hell out of me.

  Chapter Eight

  Linkin

  The bar is pretty busy for a Saturday night without a band. The regulars are all here, as well as some fresh young faces that scream Christmas break. As the first Saturday of December, things have started to pick up as college kids come back home the closer we get to the holiday.

  Mom’s hours picked up too, which I’m grateful for. She needs the distraction, but most of all she needs to feel like she’s contributing. The income from my second job at Lucky’s, as well as part of it from my full-time gig at Stapleton’s, goes to fix the damage her douchebag ex-husband has caused. No, I’d never say anything about him to the boys, but I’ve been tempted a time or two. Especially when they complain about missing him.

  But the boys are too young to know what he did. They don’t need me to spill the gory details of his addictions, tainting the few memories they have of him. That’s why I keep my thoughts to myself. As hard as it is, especially in light of it jacking up my life too, I don’t say a word in front of Jeff and Jack.

  Enough damage has been done.

  Speaking of damage, have I mentioned the destruction my sexpot little neighbor did on my brain? My little vixen swooped in with her tantalizing eyes and her must-have-her-now body and turned my world upside down when I wasn’t looking. Just from one kiss, I’m left reliving every moment I was in her presence last weekend; I left with a boner that wouldn’t quit and a dirty mind that wouldn’t let me rest.

  No, I haven’t seen her since she left me standing in the hallway after the kiss to end all kisses. I had to go home and jack off just to get a moment’s reprieve from the memory, and even then, she invaded my dreams like she was on the frontline in an active war zone. I remember the way her skilled mouth molded to mine, and then I picture how it would feel if that sexy little mouth of hers went down on me. Over and over again, I imagine what it would be like if I wouldn’t have stopped that kiss.

  And now I’m sporting a chubby behind the bar with a dozen dudes sitting on the stools.

  Fucking awesome.

  The knuckleheads wanted me to invite her over both nights they stayed with me. It was difficult not to go next door and drag her over to my place, kicking and screaming. And if I know my little firecracker at all, I know she loves to challenge me. The boys, on the other hand, adore her, and they only spent a few hours in her presence. Does that say something about her voodoo magical powers? I’ve heard all about the supernatural powers of the pussy before, but I never felt the effects until recently.

  And I haven’t even dipped my cup in the Kool-Aid.

  That’s what I’m talking about. She’s completely entranced me with her witch powers and I didn’t see it coming. My brothers would rather spend time with her (because she dies better than I do by their swords – their words, not mine) than me, and it’s starting to piss me off a little. We used to be fine, just the three of us dudes, but suddenly, it’s all “Lexi this” and “Lexi that.” They ask about her all the time, pretending she’s part of the games they play, and say goodnight to her through the wall.

  We’re all basically fucked.

  I grab the glasses on the bar and top them off with more water. Levi and the other two guys to my left I’ve seen here before, but I wouldn’t call them regulars. In fact, if you take into consideration the way they all watch the girls in back like hawks, I’d say the two I don’t know are the other halves to some of Lexi’s sisters.

  Speaking of Lexi, I don’t see her.

  As soon as the girls came in, my heart kicked up a few beats in anticipation of getting to see her. Unfortunately, she’s not here, but all five of her sisters are. When they first arrived and saw me behind the counter, there was a mix of embarrassment and shyness written all over their faces. It’s like when you run into a one-night stand after a few weeks, and you don’t know what to say. Yeah, they saw me half naked. Yeah, they witnessed me bumping and grinding on their sister. Yeah, their grandma might have felt me up.

  Not wanting them to feel uncomfortable, I throw them a wave and smile and keep my customers hap
py behind the bar. Since they arrived two hours ago, they’re playing pool in the back, drinking draft beer, and carrying on like lunatics, while the three sharks at the bar (who only arrived about twenty minutes ago) make sure every dick in the joint knows to stay the hell away from them.

  I like these guys, and I don’t even really know them.

  Then the door blows open and the star of my late night fantasies walks in. Like a vision straight out of a magazine, she’s wearing a tight black sweater and boner-inducing red skinny jeans with these little black heels that turn every head in the joint. One of the guys in front of me turns my way, grinning like a loon, making me realize that my growl was actually done out loud.

  I try to return my focus to the guys at the opposite end of the bar, but it’s fruitless. My eyes–completely on their own, mind you–zero back in on long brown hair and sparkling green eyes. She’s smiling brightly, a folder of papers in her hand, while she talks animatedly to her sisters.

  Maybe it’s her divorce papers? I mean, a guy can only hope, right?

  Lexi sets the folder down on their table and grabs a cue stick. My cock jumps in my pants as I watch how masterfully she slides her chalked up thumb and pointer finger along the slick, hard wood. Her twin racks the balls as Lexi leans over the table and takes aim at the triangle. As soon as her sister is out of the way, she fires a shot straight into the cluster, sending them shooting down the table, sinking two solids into the holes.

  Damn, my little firecracker can play.

  Completely ignoring my customers, I watch her line up her next shot, bend over the table, and tap the cue ball. It moves fluidly towards the four and taps it softly, the angle perfectly knocking the ball into the side pocket. She moves around to the other side of the table and lines up her next shot. It’s a hard angle that will have to be kissed just right to get around a striped ball almost in the way. I hold my breath as she takes aim and fires the cue ball into the six, which barely misses the obstructing striped ball, before sinking into the corner pocket.

  She celebrates her sinking the difficult shot with a little shimmy and a shake that does nothing to help relieve the tightness in my pants. Sensing my eyes on her, she glances up at me, a wide smile on her gorgeous face, and winks at me. Fucking winks.