Sugar

The little game between Avery and me stopped being fun the instant that guy showed up. If I had to nail down a specific moment, I’d say the game ended the moment I saw something akin to shame flash in her eyes, just before the elevator pinged and her guest arrived.

For a week, I’d been waiting for an opportunity to bait her, tease her, and ask her out again. I also wanted to apologize.

I preferred her with her claws out. Even when I riled her and she showed her bitchy sides I wasn’t deterred. What I didn’t like was the look in her eyes when that guy put his arm around her. She should never be the type of woman who backs out of a room with her tail between her legs.

Please just go into your apartment…

When she made the request too much vulnerability showed in her big eyes. From minx to field mouse on the run, I couldn’t make sense of her.

Every time she went on a date, I saw a side of her I didn’t recognize. And why did she date so many men? Not only were the men showing up in droves, they were all wrong for her—too old, too fat, too boring, too … not me.

I had to have her. And I wanted the real her. The longer she put me off, the more intent I became. My instincts never misled me. Everything inside of me demanded she and I would eventually wind up in a sweat-drenched tangle of sheets. I couldn’t wait.

My nose twitched. The other man’s cologne still saturated the air. My stomach turned at the thought of Avery wearing such a scent on her skin. That guy would suffocate her.

Maybe it was a blind date, the sort one wanted to escape the second it started. Even if she did call it an appointment, the way he looked at her clarified it as a date. But she flinched when he touched her.

Fuck. I should have done something. She didn’t want to go out with that guy. I saw it in her eyes.

I have to go...

She didn’t have to do anything. Now, I was pissed. Have to go… Why the hell did she have to do anything when it obviously made her uncomfortable? Irritated, I tried to think about something else, but my thoughts quickly returned to her.

I needed to know more about her. I needed a glimpse beyond her front door and an explanation for why she insisted on dating so many obviously wrong men. But none of that was happening tonight, so I needed a distraction.

Pulling out my phone, I Facetimed my sister. The line buffered and her smiling face appeared.

“What’s up?” By the wobbling screen and dusky sky, I assumed she was out for a walk.

“Nothing. Just figured I’d check in.”

“I just spoke to you this afternoon. Did something happen since then?”

I forgot I already talked to her today. Laurel and I typically touched base about once every three days. Anything more than that signaled something was wrong.

“No, nothing happened. I’m just bored.”

“Bullshit, Noah. This afternoon you told me how busy you were. You don’t go from that to bored in four hours. Something’s bothering you if you call and I—”

“Fine.” Jesus, she could be annoying when she wanted to, particularly because she knew me better than anyone else. “I need a distraction.”

“From?”

“Some girl. My neighbor.”

Her gaze, which had been mostly focused on her path, flashed to the screen, and she raised a brow. “Really? Did she just move in? This is the first I’m hearing about…”

“Avery.”

“Pretty name. What’s she like?”

Sexy as fuck. Legs that went on for days. Hair that smelled so good it could get you high. Lips meant for my cock, and tits meant for my mouth. “She’s difficult to read.”

“But she’s caught your attention.”

Brakes squealed in my head. “Hold on, Laurel, this isn’t like that. She isn’t someone I plan on getting serious with.”

“Why, because you might actually stumble on something with substance? How tragic!”

“While your sarcasm’s appreciated, it’s unnecessary. She’s not the monogamous type.” Not according to her fucking merry-go-round doorway of dates. “I just want to get to know her.”

“You mean sleep with her.”

“Well … yeah. That too.”

“God, Noah, if it’s all just sex, who cares what she’s like.”

“I do.”

“But why? I mean, if it’s over by morning, what difference does it make.”

She had a point. “I don’t know. It’s the way the game’s played.”

She growled, and the sky shifted to interior ceilings. I recognized the crown molding from her place and waited as she took a guzzling sip of water and blotted the sweat off her brow. When she was refreshed, she looked at the screen, the sternness of her stare reminding me of our mother’s serious look saved only for threats of grounding and loss of privileges when we were children.