One Night Stand by Jennifer Sucevic

Liam- The moment she stepped foot through the door, she was on my radar. I mean, come on, how could she not be? The woman is absolutely gorgeous. Thick inky black hair and a sweetly curved body. Although I have to admit, this hole-in-the-wall dive bar doesn’t exactly seem like her scene. For one, she’s wearing too much in the way of clothing. There’s not a short, barely there skirt or cleavage bearing top in sight. Two, she’s shooting down every single guy that sniffs around her table like it’s her sole mission in life.

Casualties are scattered across the nasty beer stained floor as we speak. And three, my guess is that she’s a little older than the usual college aged crowd that hangs here looking for a hook up to stumble home with at the end of the night. So, after a careful assessment of the situation, my current plan of action is to keep my sights firmly locked on the target as I bide my sweet damn time nursing a beer.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long for some drunken idiot to give me the perfect opportunity to step in and run interference. Here’s my prediction as to how the rest of the evening is going to play out- by the end of it, her delicious looking a$$ will be warming my bed. I’d stake my upcoming football career on it.

Gia- It takes a moment or two before I’m able to pry my eyelids open. I really shouldn’t have slept in my contacts. That was a bad move on my part because now my eyes feel as if they’ve been cemented shut. Glancing around, I’m startled to realize that absolutely nothing looks familiar. Which is odd. Just as panic starts to spike through my veins, a torrent of memories crashes down upon my head. Sexy fauxhawk. Amazingly hard rippling muscles. Gorgeous swirling patterns of colorful ink covering both his arms and broad chest. And a very dirty mouth.

Slowly turning my head, the breath catches at the back of my throat as I realize that the man in question is still sacked out rather soundly besides me. In fact, he’s snoring ever so lightly. Guess I tuckered the poor guy out last night. A smile tugs up the corners of my lips. Unfortunately this is no time for gloating. By tacit agreement, it was decided that there wouldn’t be any names or numbers exchanged. Absolutely nothing that would tie us to one another. Just one night of amazing, steamy, toe curling pleasure. And that, my friends, was definitely achieved. Several times, actually.

See? Now I’m grinning (and gloating) like a complete lunatic when I should be hustling my a$$ out of here. The last thing I want is to taint all those lovely memories with awkward morning after banter. Slipping from beneath the covers, I roll in slo-mo from the bed before carefully dropping down onto all fours and army crawling my way towards freedom. Did I happen to mention that I’m still naked?

I really shouldn’t have let him rip the clothes right off my body while standing at the front door of his apartment. What the heck am I saying? Of course I should have, because it was soooo worth it. Even if I am currently doing a naked crawl of shame. Throwing one last fleeting glance over my shoulder, I creep right on out of the bedroom. If there’s just a tiny little pinch of regret that I’ll never see this guy again, I tamp it down before gathering up all my stuff and fleeing the apartment. Bye-bye hot tattoo guy. May our paths never cross again.