Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Page 6

  He has my phone.

  "I don't actually have it."

  "You're really not seeing him again?"

  "We made no plans." I smile at her, but it's forced at best. We may not have made plans, but he clearly has ideas because I can't imagine he's going to send my phone back to me in the post.

  "Jesus," I mutter, falling back in my chair and allowing it to spin around of its own accord.

  Movement out of my office window catches my eye, and when I focus, I find Henry sitting at his desk, smiling at me.

  "Fucking hell," I whisper to myself, forcing a smile onto my face.

  Our offices are part of the same building, but there’s a small courtyard between us that’s attached to our staff room. There have been many times that I've felt secure knowing that there's always someone keeping an eye on me—when he's not teaching, that is—but right now, I have the burning desire to pull my blinds down and hide.

  What I said to Lisa is true. The thing between Henry and me is just fun. We're both single and not looking for anything serious, but he's a good friend, so knowing what I did last night still has guilt lacing through me. I have no idea if Henry has been with anyone else while we've been sleeping together, we've never had a serious conversation like that, but now I've been with Dawson, all these questions are starting to spin around in my head.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I turn away from him and flip my diary open.

  I've got meetings with our new students all week, along with a couple of group sessions with some of our more vulnerable kids.

  My eyes lock on what I've got written down for Friday. Lisa's birthday.

  She hasn’t told me the plans, aside from demanding my entire Friday night and warning me that it'll come with a hangover the next day.

  Forcing myself out of my own head, I open my emails and dive into my day, hoping that if I focus on something else hard enough then my memories of Dawson will eventually fade to nothing.

  It's wishful thinking.

  "What's happening Friday?" I ask when Lisa joins me in the afternoon sun warming the courtyard to eat lunch.

  She pulls the lid off last night’s leftover pasta and I stare longingly at it. It looks, and smells, much more appealing than the few leaves I threw in a tub before I left home this morning.

  "Uh... drinking? What else needs to happen?"

  I shake my head at her, a genuine smile pulling at my lips for the first time since I discovered Dawson in reception yesterday morning. Lisa and I are similar in so many ways, but when it comes to our need to party, she's like a teenager while I'm more like a granny who's happy at home in her slippers, stroking her cats.

  "How about where? Are we going to eat first? What should I wear?"

  She rolls her eyes at my need to know all the details. "Dinner, yes. I'll book a place once I have the final numbers." There are a handful of staff here at Knight's Ridge who are single or just can't turn down the opportunity to party; we end up doing this most weekends. It's almost becoming a tradition. "Not sure about after, probably the usual. And, as for what to wear, you already know the answer. Something sexy, P."

  "You want me to shoot out an email?"

  "Nah, I messaged everyone last night. You would know if you weren’t too busy with your—"

  "Ladies, how's it going?" Henry asks, sitting down on the picnic bench we've taken over.

  "Great," I mutter while Lisa dives into her Friday night plans once again.

  "You're in, yeah?"

  "Hell, yes. It's not every day you turn thirty, pup." He winks at her and her cheeks brighten.

  We chat away until someone pokes their head around the door and calls Henry away for something. Our sixth form students aren't back from their summer break yet, so as Head of Sixth he's quieter than usual. That's all going to change in the coming days as our boarders start to reappear.

  "You gonna call it off with him?" Lisa asks once he's out of earshot.

  "There's nothing to call off. And even if there was, there's nothing going on. I told you that earlier."

  "Yeah, but I didn't believe you. Something," she starts waving her finger around in front of me, "is different about you this morning, I just can't put my finger on it, although I know it has everything to do with motorbike man."

  "Enough, okay? There’s nothing to know." She stares at me for a few seconds as if the truth will magically appear on my face, but finally, she averts her gaze.

  "If you say so. I gotta go, shit to do." She stands and collects her stuff.

  "Hey," I call out once she's at the door, "if I see him again, I'll give him your number, yeah?"

  A smile pulls at her lips, but it doesn't meet her eyes. She knows I'm lying to her, and I hate it. But what am I meant to do, tell her the truth? I shake my head. I lived through it and I still don't believe it all happened most days. That life seems like it happened a million years ago now.

  It's in the past.

  And it's best it stayed there.

  9

  Dawson

  "Biff said you've turned us down tonight. Hot date?" Spike asks, inviting himself into my room and flopping down on my leather couch.

  "Nah, nothing like that."

  He stares at me for a beat, almost as if he can tell I want to say more, but he doesn't press me for information.

  "How's the kid doing?"

  "Ugh, don't," I moan, thinking of my first few weeks as a full-time parent to a gobby almost-seventeen-year-old. "I don't remember being that much of a pain in the arse at sixteen."

  "Might have something to do with the fact that your dad is scary as fuck."

  I laugh. Yeah, that might have something to do with it. Aside from the club's illegal activity, and all-around fear factor, Dad is a good man, a good father. But that doesn't mean he didn't raise a hand to me should he think I deserved it.

  The worst two times were after I was a little shit to my teacher. After those two beatings I sure thought twice about my actions.

  "So I need to be harder with her?" I ask.

  "How the fuck should I know? I have no experience with this shit. I don't even have actual parents. Just do what feels right, I guess. She's going to fuck up, it's part of being a teenager."

  "I guess. I just don't want her to ruin her life before it's even begun."

  "She won't, man. Not while she's got you watching her back."

  "This is all her mother's fault," I say, sitting forward and placing my elbows on my knees. "She let her run wild and refused to involve me."

  "What changed?"

  "Fuck if I know. Neither of us has heard from her since Emmie packed her stuff and turned up here. She didn't even call her on results day."

  "That's cold, man."

  "Em said she didn't care, but I can see it eating at her. I'm just worried she's going to act out instead of deal with it."

  "Then you need to let her. Like it or not, she's practically an adult. There's only so much you can do."

  "I've enrolled her at Knight's Ridge," I admit.

  "No fucking way. How'd she take that?"

  "Exactly as you'd expect. Her uniform turned up this morning. You should have seen her face."

  "It'll be good for her."

  "That's what I keep saying. She doesn't agree."

  Spike chuckles. "What does she want to do?"

  "No idea. I'm hoping this will help her figure it out."

  "It won't hurt, that's for sure."

  "She's starting Monday. If I can get her there."

  "Rather you than me, man. You want coffee?"

  "Yeah. I've got a client in five, then I'm out of here."

  I stretch my legs out and pull Piper's phone from my pocket. I've been keeping tabs on her messages all week after I discovered I still had it. It certainly wasn't my intention to not give it back, but it turned out pretty perfectly because not only do I now know her plans for the night, but she doesn't have a passcode on the thing, so I know a lot more than I'm sure she'd want me to.

  By
the time I've finished working on the back piece for my evening client, I'm more than ready to head out and get a drink.

  I swing by home, check on Emmie—who's watching some series about a girl playing chess who really needs a new hairstyle—shower, change and head out to the club Piper's friends discussed going to tonight.

  The guys and I are at The Avenue pretty regularly. I have no idea if Piper goes a lot, but it makes me wonder if we've been under the same roof numerous times over the years and had no idea.

  The queue outside the club stretches well down the street, but, much to everyone's annoyance, I walk straight up to tonight's security, fist bump Jamie and walk straight inside. Tattooist perks.

  Unlike usual when I get to the stairs, I don't go down. Instead, I head up.

  The floor is laid out exactly the same as the basement, but instead of the garage music that pumps through the speakers down there, up here is all dance.

  I look around as I head to the bar. Despite the fact that there's a crowd gathered, I get served almost instantly.

  With a glass of whiskey in my hand, I rest back against the bar and scan the crowd.

  I don't find anyone even remotely familiar for the longest time, and I'm at the point of wanting to give up when a flash of blonde catches my eye in the middle of the dancefloor.

  My grip on the glass in my hand tightens to the point I worry it's about to shatter under the pressure as I watch her dancing with a guy.

  She has her back to him as she throws her head back and laughs like she has no cares in the world. I can only see to their shoulders, but I can imagine his hands possessively on her hips as they move together to the beat.

  Slamming my glass down on the bar, I order another two, needing something to settle me before I march over there and rip her from his grip.

  "Fancy seeing you here," an unfamiliar voice says behind me before a warm hand lands on my upper arm.

  Spinning, I run my eyes up the woman's barely-dressed body before they land on her blown ones. She's off her arse drunk and swaying on the spot. I recognise her, but I have no idea who she is.

  She's pretty, sure. Not really my type, but then I've never been known to be picky when it comes to a willing woman.

  She doesn't let my silence deter her because she steps closer, the scent of her perfume and whatever she's been drinking filling my nose.

  "You were at Knight's Ridge on Monday with your daughter, right?" she asks as realisation hits me. She's the woman from reception.

  "I was. My daughter is starting on Monday."

  "We should totally get to know each other then..."

  "Dawson," I add, although I really don't want to get into a conversation with her when I could be planning my move with Piper.

  "Dawson," she says as if she's trying it out for size. "It suits you."

  "Well, that's a relief, seeing as it's my name."

  She throws her head back and laughs at my non-joke.

  "It was nice talking to you," I say, tipping the remains of my glass into my mouth and pushing from the bar.

  "Lisa. My name is Lisa."

  "Great." I smile at her before walking away. When I glance at the dancefloor, I find Piper alone for the first time.

  After a few seconds, my eyes pick out the guy heading for Lisa, so I take my chance.

  "That was quick," Piper shouts when I step up behind her and drag her arse back into my crotch.

  I keep my lips sealed, not wanting to give myself away yet, although all it would take is one look at my hands and she'd soon realise that her little posh boy is gone.

  Lowering my head, I run my nose up the length of her neck. She shudders in my hold and pushes her arse back harder.

  My cock swells as we move together in time with the music.

  I step us forward, needing to move away from where her friends are expecting her to be if—when—they return.

  The song changes and the beat drops.

  "I love this song," she declares, lifting her arms above her head and moving faster. Her head falls back on my shoulder and her arms drop as she loses herself to the beat.

  My hands lift from her hips and drift up to her waist. With my lips pressed against the glistening skin of her neck, I feel more than hear her moan of pleasure as my thumbs brush the underside of her braless breasts.

  My cock aches, knowing only a thin layer of fabric covers her.

  Parting my lips, I lick up the column of her neck, her taste exploding on my tongue.

  "Henry, what the hell?" she half-shouts, half-moans. She twists, but I'm quicker. One of my hands splays across her stomach, keeping our bodies connected, and the other slips into her hair, my fingers twisting in the soft lengths and holding her in place.

  "Your posh boy has gone," I growl into her neck.

  "D-Dawson?"

  "The one and only," I whisper. "Miss me?" My teeth sink into the shell of her ear and she sags in my hold.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I was invited," I lie.

  "H-how?"

  "Okay, so I wasn't technically invited, but you were, and I have your phone. So..."

  "You were waiting for me?"

  "Waiting. Watching. Same thing. Who's the guy, Piper?"

  "N-no one."

  Pushing her forward, I ensure we're in the darkest part of the dancefloor, surrounded by others. I spin us around and look out over the crowd once more.

  I find her friend not far from where I first saw Piper, dancing like nothing else exists, and after a few seconds she's joined by him, but not before he obviously looks around for Piper.

  "Really?"

  "Y-yeah."

  "Okay."

  She stills in my arms before turning to look at me, but with my grip on her hair she's unable to move more than an inch.

  "You believe me?" Disbelief coats her words.

  "I fucked you Monday night. You didn't even so much as mention him. I'm thinking he's... insignificant," I growl in her ear. "Let's go."

  "Where?"

  I ignore her question as I push her toward the stairs.

  "I can't just leave. My friends—"

  "Fuck them. They're distracted."

  "Dawson, I can't—"

  "Arguing will get you nowhere, baby girl. The easiest thing is to just do as you're told."

  She struggles against my hold but soon must realise that she has no chance, because she gives up and allows me to lead her to the basement.

  The familiar music hits my ears, and I feel more at home than I did upstairs.

  I walk her straight to the bar and order four whiskeys.

  "What if I don't like whiskey?" she sasses, flexing her neck now that I've released her, although my hand is still clamped around her hip, reminding her that she's not going anywhere.

  "Drink up. You're probably going to need it."

  I lift the first glass from the dark wood bar and knock it back.

  Keeping my eyes on her, I widen them and nod toward the drinks.

  Her teeth grind as she stares back at me, but she doesn't say whatever is on the tip of her tongue. Probably for the best, because I suspect it's an insult.

  She reaches out and takes one of the glasses, lifting it to her red lips before seductively licking away the excess.

  My cock jumps at the sight.

  "Bottoms up, Dawson," she smiles wickedly before downing the second. She winces as it burns her throat before stepping into me and running her hand up my chest.

  It's the first time she's touched me, and it burns. Capturing her wrist, I pull it behind her back. I don't need a reminder of what it used to be like when we connected. I need to keep my head.

  With both her arms pinned behind her back, she presses her breasts against my chest instead and reaches up on her tiptoes. For a second I think she's going to try to kiss me, but at the last minute she moves to the side instead.

  "Dance, fuck, or kill? What's it to be?"

  "How about all three?" My arm tightens around her body and
she gasps as my length presses against her stomach.

  "Sounds like a game I could get on board with. Don't forget, though. You're not the only one with a knife."

  "I'm aware. I'm also aware that only one of us has ever used theirs."

  "Are you sure about that? There's a lot you don't know about me these days, Dawson."

  "That may be true, baby girl. But you're no killer. Shall we?" I ask, stepping away from her and leading her toward the dancefloor as if we weren't just talking about murder like it's normal.

  I come to a stop in a bit of space and pull her into my body once more. She tries to spin so we're face to face, but I stop her and pull her ass back into me.

  "You know," she shouts, resting her head back against my shoulder, "I'm starting to think you don't like looking at the front of me."

  "Something like that."

  "Why is it?" She wraps her hands around mine, dragging them up her body. "These not big enough?" she asks, forcing me to squeeze her tits.

  "It's more your face that I have an issue with. It's easier to forget I'm touching a liar when I'm not looking at you."

  "Ouch," she says, but there's no hurt there. She knows exactly what she is and what she did. "I didn't have you down as a coward, Dawson."

  "What makes you think I am?"

  "I thought you'd look me directly in my eyes as you fucked me over."

  I have her front against mine in a second. One of my hands squeezes her arse—hard—while the other wraps around her throat.

  "Trust me, baby girl. You'll know all about it when I fuck you over."

  She swallows harshly at my threat, but her body betrays her because it leans into me.

  "Kiss me," she demands.

  I chuckle. "You really think you're in any position to make demands? You're at my mercy now. I say what happens, and I say when. You got that?"

  She nods once, her eyes boring into mine.

  "I think I'm done with the dancing portion of the night. Shall we move onto the second?" Her lips part and her pupils dilate.

  I'll take that as a yes.

  Spinning her in my arms once again, I walk us toward the stairs and then this time, the exit.