Page 10 of Never Say Never

What the hell am I doing?

Partying with Paul Gallo was the worst idea I'd ever had. So, why didn't I stop, turn around, and go home?

"Come on, you gotta put your back into it!" Paul yelled over the music before he popped his hands on his knees and started shaking his ass in a way that was both appealing and hilarious.

"Will you stop that?"

"Nope! You gotta twerk with me or I won't!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"So much." He laughed.

I didn't doubt that. Paul continued to make a fool of himself, and I stupidly laughed. The warmth in my chest started to consume it, but I quickly decided to douse that feeling with another shot of the velvety tequila that Paul had picked out. It was cheap, but good. I didn't expect Paul to know anything about alcohol. He was good at his job, sure, but I never thought about who he was when he clocked out and went on about his life.

Okay, so that was a bit of a lie. Mostly, I thought about what a poon-hound he was. Paul had a different person in his bed every night, a majority within the building we worked in. He was the type of man that didn't form attachments, who wasn't looking for a relationship. He just wanted a bit of fun.

Doesn't that make him perfect then? I don't want anything from him, and look at him, he's attractive. Very attractive.

Paul's bleach blond hair and blue eyes weren't what I usually went for in a guy. I'd started learning that I was far more attracted to dark hair, dark eyes, strong builds or men with a bit of a tummy. So, why was I still so into him? He smirked at me, and my heart skipped a beat.

That was why. Paul was just... Paul. His personality was infectious, his smile sly and sure. The man had so much confidence, it bled into every part of his day, while I only excelled at work. Here, in The Apple, I was lost in a sea of men who knew what they wanted and were going after it, while I was hesitant to even start.

"Loosen up, York!"

Paul pressed his ass into my crotch, tucked himself against my body, and started to move in ways that made my body come alive. My cock twitched, the first time it had done that in ages around a real, live male. It was different than porn. It felt more thrilling.

"This is much too close," I informed Paul.

He took my arm and wrapped it around his body. My hand slid over his clothed abs before he lifted his shirt and pressed my palm against his skin. Heat radiated against my flesh. Alive, throbbing, dappled with sweat. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of faint cologne, not too loud, something that smelled like the ocean.

God, this was a bad idea.

We both slammed against the bar trying to catch our breaths. I was regretting the sensible shirt and shoes now because sneakers and a T-shirt would have been a lot better of an idea. Paul held up two fingers to the bartender. He passed me a shot, a lime, and some salt and winked at me.

"Can you keep up, old man?"

I rolled my eyes, slammed the shot, and winced as it burned down my throat. When I licked my lips, I watched Paul's eyes follow the movement.

"Old man," I mused. "I'm only eleven years older than you. That's not such a large gap."

"No, it isn't," he said and then shrugged as he finally glanced away, taking whatever thoughts had been brewing behind those blue eyes with his gaze. "Then again, I like older men. It's probably some deep seated daddy issues," he mused.

I raised a brow. "You have daddy issues? What kind?"

Paul blinked before he shook his head. "Nope. We're not talking about stuff like that tonight. We're hanging out."

"Are we?"

He raised two hands. "I don't see you talking to anyone else."

Well, he had me there. Paul was the first person I'd come to this place and actually stuck around for. The last one was annoying, talking about how tight his ass was, as if that was supposed to entice me when I'd never even been inside of a man before. I had no idea how that felt. The one before that was successful, strong, and boring. I could go on and on, the point was that at the end of the night, I went home alone and ultimately more lonely than I'd been before I even tried. I'd resolved myself to the fact that I would probably be alone for the rest of my life, but I'd wanted to give it one more chance.

And then I ran into Paul.

"So, is this some kind of goal for you?" I asked as he ordered two margaritas.

"What do you mean?" he asked, distracted as he told the bartender what we wanted. Not that he'd asked me, but he still slid me a peach one. My favorite flavor.