A/N: Thank you to my beta ImHeretoReview and my banner maker ChristaG : ) This one shot is based on the song "Alone With You" by Jake Owen. It is all in EPOV.
This was my contribution to the Fandom for Ovarian Cancer. Thank you to those who donated!
It's so busy that I don't even see her slip inside the bar. I'm preoccupied tending to the masses shouting drinks at me and sliding money across the wet bar.
I wipe my hands off on the towel tucked in my back pocket and move onto the next customer. A lone blonde in her early twenties with a "come and get me" smile and a ten dollar bill in her hand.
"What can I get you?" I ask.
"A shot of tequila. And our one for yourself too," she says, winking at me.
I pull up two shot glasses and quickly douse them in Cuervo. I clink mine with the woman's and down it. It burns down my throat and I shake away the urge to cough. She hands me her money and I leave to get her change.
"Thanks," I say, handing her money back to her and slipping onto the next customer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her scribbling something on a napkin and placing it there along with my tip. I already know what's on it. Her phone number and a sexy message to call her later tonight. I won't.
I take care of a bachelor party hovering at the end of the bar and grab my towel to do a quick clean up before the next wave comes.
That's when I see her.
I clear my throat and continue wiping down the bar. The first thing I spot is the skin on her leg, creeping up the slit in her dress until it disappears completely just above her knee. Her foot bounces lightly up and down, impatient as she watches me from across the room.
She knows I can't go see her now, but she shows up anyway. It's a game to her. Keeping herself just out of reach, teasing me like an early Christmas gift that I can't have.
She sits and orders drinks for the rest of the night, twirling her straw around her glass and ignoring everyone else in the bar.
We met four years ago in this very bar. She's a photographer for a travel magazine and always ends up with ridiculous layovers at the airport on her way back to L.A. We're the closest bar to the airport. It was fate or really bad luck that she chose this place, that she chose me. I haven't been the same since I met her and she has no idea. The first night I brought her home with me, I had no idea it would turn into something more for me. But it has. It is.
It's always a long weekend, a random night every now and then. She comes to the bar and waits for me. I take her back to my apartment and we spend the night entangled in each other. Until she pulls herself away to catch her next flight and I'm left with an empty bed and a broken heart.
It would never work between us. We were never meant for anything more than we were now. Strangers passing in the night. Fulfilling needs and desires that only we can give each other. She'll never leave her job. And I'll never leave my family here in Chicago. There was no middle. No way to meet halfway. It was this or nothing. Every time she leaves, I swear it's the last time. That my heart can't take it anymore. But then she shows up and I'm lost to her again.
The bar's closing and I tell my managers I'll lock up. They glance her way and laugh to themselves. They've seen her before. They know she's waiting for me.
After everyone leaves, she saunters up to the bar and places her empty glass on the bar.
"I called you," she says.
"We've been busy." I pull my phone from my back pocket and check it. Five missed calls. All from Bella. "And you never call me back anyway." I glance her way. "Where are you coming from?" I stack the glasses as she slides onto a stool and folds her hands in her lap.
"South Africa," she mumbles. She smiles and I know I'm in trouble again.
"Bella, I can't…do this anymore." I pause and sigh before carrying the clean glasses into the back room. When I come back, she hasn't moved.
"Tell me to leave," she challenges.
I stare at her and struggle to get the words out. Any of them. The truth, a lie, or anything in between. They don't come.
"Bella," I whisper.
"Tell me." Her eyes harden and for a moment I think I see anger flash across her expression. It's gone in an instant, replaced by a dazzling smile. I sigh and shake my head, knowing I'm going to give in again.
"I shouldn't be alone with you," I say, fighting a grin.
"I always end up in trouble."
"How do you know you're not the one causing it?" She chews idly on her straw.
"Have you looked in the mirror today?" I cock my eyebrow and start to shut off all the lights.
She follows me silently towards the door and we slip outside. It's a short walk to my apartment. She stumbles up the stairs, laughing along the way. I shush her, laughing along with her.
I fumble with the keys and open my door. We both tumble inside and she pushes me up against the door, reaching beside me to chain the lock. Her lips brush across my neck as she fingers along the waistband of my jeans.
"Please," she whispers.
"You know I will," I murmur, reaching down to grasp her hips.
"I know." She tilts her head up and presses her lips to mine. I taste the liquor on her lips and my tongue brushes over them, aching for a last taste. Her hand slips under my shirt and her fingers run along my stomach. I shiver and moan so soft that it's almost silent.
I reach down and bring her legs up around my waist. I hear the fabric of her dress rip slightly, tearing her slit higher up her thigh.
She laughs against my lips and I stumble across the apartment to my bed.
"Bella," I whisper, running my lips down her jaw. She shimmies out of her dress and my clothes quickly join hers on the floor.
I run my hands up and down her legs, pausing at her knees. She's beautiful beneath me, her sun-kissed skin glowing even in the darkness. I push her legs apart and settle between them, hovering near the edge of the bed. I force my knees down onto the bed, just below where her body rests, and lean forward, pressing myself up against her.
She grabs the necklace hanging around my neck, a shark tooth she brought me from her trip to Australia, and pulls me down to her.
She whimpers as I push myself inside her and arches her back. I feel her body against mine, hot and damp with sweat. I look between us and see her breasts, the perfect curves above her ribs. My eyes sweep lower, to where we're joined, and I finally close my eyes.
My hips rock on their own, meeting hers with each thrust. Her fingers trace lines on my back, digging in a little too rough every now and then.
My toes curl as a low, rhythmic grunt escapes my lips.
She's beautiful. Her dark hair splashes across my bed, surrounding her like a soft blanket. Her lips form the perfect pout, a mix between ecstasy and a sweet smile.
"I want," I murmur. I want more. With her.
I finish, hard and rough, panting above her as she kisses me.
"Don't," I breathe, pulling away from her. I'm disgusted with myself again. I gave in to her and now I'll wake up alone. Love me and leave me. It's a cycle that I want so desperately to break, but I can't.
It's not her fault. Not really. She has no idea what she does to me. It was supposed to be just physical. Something to occupy our time, someone to embrace. But it's more than that now. She's not just someone. She's Bella.
Her dad was a cop back in Washington. Her mother lives in Arizona with her new husband. She shipped Bella to be with her father when she was sixteen. And Bella never forgave her for that. And neither could I because it made her the way she is today. Two years after she moved there, he was killed in a car accident and she was left alone. Now she can't stay in one place too long, refuses to let herself get attached to anyone or anything. Always moving.
She doesn't look too upset as she pulls the sheet up over her body. "Okay," she mumbles.
"Why do you do this?" I ask.
"Do what?" She plays with the edge of the sheet and avoids my eyes.
"I want you to be here when I wake up in the morning."
"You know I can't stay," she whispers.
"I just can't." She sits up and the sheet falls from her body. She rounds the bed to find her dress and slips it back on.
I know the routine. Her leaving routine. It's always fast and quick, supposedly painless like ripping off a Band-Aid. It's the complete opposite.
She scrambles out into the living room, pulling on her shoes as she stumbles towards the door.
"Where are you going?" I ask, following behind her, holding a blanket around my waist.
"My hotel. I have a 7 A.M. flight in the morning." She pulls the door open and looks back at me. I swear I see a hint of regret reflecting back at me and I bite my lip, trying to hold in what I'm about to say. It doesn't help.
"I'm not going anywhere, Bella."
She sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth and sniffles as she closes the door.
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging hard at the ends trying to let out my frustration. "Damn it," I scream.
I finally walk back to my room and collapse onto my bed, snuggling into the pillow to enjoy the lingering scent of her shampoo.
When I wake, it's well past noon. I stretch and head to the kitchen to make some coffee.
There's a knock on the door. I quickly pull on some sweatpants I find laying on the floor and pull it open. I nearly drop my coffee mug.
She steps inside, toting her luggage behind her.
"Did you miss your flight?" I ask.
"On purpose," she says. "I missed it on purpose."
She takes a step forward and lays her hands flat against my chest, over my heart. "Because I want to be here tomorrow morning when you wake up."
A/N: Thank you for reading!