Something about his reaction makes me want to push for something else. “Have you been working for him long?”
“Long enough. Served my last tour and got out after. Been working for him ever since.”
I acknowledge his non-answer with another nod and go to take a drink, but there’s nothing there except an empty glass. “You two want a drink?”
Bear glares at Zan and finally speaks up. “Make his a water.” Then he mutters something I can’t quite hear.
I decide it’s best to leave them to it, and head off to the bar. A few women try and catch my attention, but I’m not in the mood. The only one I want left me high and dry. After an age waiting to get served, I return with the drinks. When I get closer, I overhear their conversation.
“She’s had a thing for him ever since.”
“Fuck.” Bear crouches forward and rubs the back of his neck.
Zan, on the other hand, leans back in his chair. “What are you going to do about it?”
I place the drinks on the table and relax back into my seat. “What’s who going to do about what?” Both the guys turn to look at me, odd expressions on their faces.
“Nothing, it’s work. And for the record, I’m going to do nothing about it. Because nothing will come of it.” Bear cuts the conversation dead and Zan stares at him over the rim of his glass. Bear’s returning glare makes Zan shift in his seat before he looks away. One-nil to Bear then.
“Do you girls need some privacy?” I’ve interrupted something too soon and as much as I love seeing these two bitches going at each other, I’d rather not be stuck in the middle if things turn physical.
“You mind giving us a minute?” Bear looks apologetic but ready to kill me at the same time.
I couldn’t give a fuck as I’ve spotted something far more interesting across the club. I grab my drink and make my way around to the other side of the dance floor.
The fight to get there becomes worth it when I find Lizzie still where I spotted her. She’s leant on the railing, which surrounds the dance floor. And her face is turned away from me. Most people would think she’s watching the dancing, but her chin’s tilted slightly upwards. I follow what I think is her line of sight to find nothing but darkness. Shame I can’t observe her from the front, but I’d guess she’s wearing a thousand-yard stare.
I move in close to her, resting my forearms on the railing, which brings me down to her level. No movement comes from her. She has no idea anyone is next to her at all. Not wanting to scare her, I nudge her with my thigh. Startled, she stands up straighter and turns at the same time, almost losing her footing. Instinctively, I reach out to save her. She stands still, her chest heaving, and slowly lifts her head. The heat in my body increases with every millisecond it takes her to reach my face.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
For a second, the strobe lights graze her face, revealing a pink tinge to her cheeks.
“It’s okay… I’m sorry about earlier.” Her gaze won’t meet mine so I let her wrists go, even though my fingers itch at the loss of contact.
I’m sick of the woman spending more time looking at the floor than at me. I want, no, I need her to look at me. I crook my forefinger under her chin and raise it up so she has no choice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We danced. I wanted to kiss you. You didn’t want it.” I let her chin go and shrug my shoulders like I’m not bothered by it, when if I’m honest, it fucking meant something to me. “No big deal.”
“No. You’re wrong.” Her voice is timid, and hard to hear above the music.
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze flicks south again, and I’ve had about enough. I’m envious of the fucking floor. The thought registers and then I dismiss it.
She seems to bolster herself like she did in our interview. Her shoulders square back, her chest rises with a deep inhale, and then she raises her eyes and her gaze meets mine.
She looks me square in the eye. “I wanted it.” No hesitation. No looking at the floor this time. I’m fucked.
I edge in closer to her, not wanting her to run away again. But I need my mouth on hers, or I’m going to explode.
Her body grazes against mine and my arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her against me. I know she can feel me when her hips tilt and press in harder. The constant noise from the club fades away, no longer the focus of my attention. I hear nothing but her and her stuttered breaths.
“Now?” I’m asking again. It may be the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I need confirmation from her this is what she wants.
Her eyelids flutter shut and when she opens them, there’s a raging storm in her eyes. Still, I wait, desperate for an answer but unwilling to push for one. I get what I’ve been waiting for. She nods, all the while keeping eye contact with me.
I lower my head and she pushes up onto her tiptoes, her mouth hovering over mine. Our breaths are rapid. One hand releases her waist and instead cradles her nape. Unable to wait any longer, I dip down the last inch. I give a gentle tug on her bottom lip and feel her smile against me. She nips mine back and her tongue runs the seam of my lips, they part for her, and swollen lips cover my own.
Terrified of consuming her, I let her take the lead. Our lips join, her tongue flicks into my mouth, dancing with mine in hesitant lashes. The sweet taste of mint mixed with rum dances across my taste buds and I groan into her mouth. Her hands fist into my shirt, demanding more. My heart pounds fierce in my chest and I’m lost in the sensation, in her. Her fingers grasp onto my hair and I lose control, pulling her back a few feet into a dark spot and up against the wall. Lips bruise, teeth clash, and one hand digs into her hips, rocking her against my cock. The other runs the length of her side, grazing my thumb across the soft swell of her tit.
Her leg hitches around my thigh, the motion lifting her dress, revealing more flesh. It’s like a magnet for my hand, as I let her hip go and allow my fingers to wander down onto the newly exposed skin. All the while, our lips and tongues are entwined. I can’t get enough. I need more. Much more.
Not yet. Not here.
I pull away, utterly breathless, and rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths pant in unison. “Come home with me?”
HIS GASPING BREATHS flutter over my warm face and I struggle for my own air. “I… I shouldn’t.” But even I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. My brain fogs with rights and wrongs. Mac’s gone on tour. What I should do is leave, but nothing could make me at this point.
His forehead no longer rests against mine as he pulls further away. But the only thing in view is his impossibly gorgeous face. Nothing else; just him.
“I promise I won’t touch you until you ask. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” His voice deepens with each word. He runs a finger down the side of my cheek, down to my neck, sending ripples of pleasure to my core. “If I had my way, you’d already have this”—his thick, hard length grinds against me and my breath catches in my throat—“ buried inside you, here against this wall. Without giving a flying fuck who’s watching.” His eyes, so dark in the dim lighting of the club, are almost black, but still give off heat like lava.
Every nerve ending inflames deep within me, desperate for his attention. Neglected for so long, my body remembers the feel of him against me when we rode on his bike. The vibrations, the heat, and the pure power he gives off. Captivated, each gasp of air becomes shorter, wilder. His gaze locks on mine, little flicks of his eyes study me, and a half smile pulls at his lips.