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And then the door creaked open.
Immediately, the bartender dropped what she was doing and hustled out the back door without a word.
Heels clicked against the hardwood floor behind me and I wished I’d had that second drink after all.
I inhaled, put my game face on, then pivoted my chair toward the woman that I’d been dumb enough to forget.
I’d be damned if I let it happen again.
If I disappointed her again.
I’d told myself that I wouldn’t do what she expected from here on out, which meant that I wouldn’t stare at her chest or stare at her in a way that made it evident that I was thinking about her naked. But when I saw the dress, with her pale breasts all but calling out to me, to my mouth, to my hands, I had to work really hard to stay on my best behavior.
I let my eyes flit over delights I hoped I had the pleasure of exploring, meeting her glowing emerald gaze. Her lips confirmed that she knew what I really wanted to be looking at.
“Like what you see?” she taunted me, pointedly crossing her arms, which just pushed me closer to the point of no return. The point where I’d give in to the lust that was making it hard to behave myself. I’d sweep her up, pouty lips, stubbornness and all, and show her just how sorry I was for ever letting her get away.
“Absolutely.” I answered smoothly. I even managed to slide from the barstool and stride behind the bar like adding distance between us wasn’t killing me. I braced my hands on the glossy bar top and ignored my growing hard-on.
Keep it respectful, Jason. Get to know her. Woo her. Then maybe you can bend her over and-
She let out an unceremonious scoff, but she didn’t make a beeline for the exit. She didn’t budge from where she’d planted herself, or drop her defensive stature, either.
“Have a seat,” I offered, nodding at the stools.
She pursed her lips like she was debating it. Realizing that we were at a crossroads and the next move was hers. She slowly lowered her arms, pulling at her dress like she was attempting to make herself respectable. Respectability was boring. And I had a feeling that underneath it all, she agreed.
“You’re the boss,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to catch it. She hopped up on the stool and leaned forward. She was more playful than I thought, a predator in her own right, and it had nothing to do with the dress. It was the way she delicately swept her hair over one shoulder and dared me to do what we both wanted to do. A thin black choker accentuated her swan-like neck, and I couldn’t help but imagine her wearing the choker...and nothing else.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the night we met. The first time I touched her. I remembered how she’d trembled when my lips danced over the spot just beneath her ear. Men without finesse, in a hurry to get to the prize, would have gone right for the nape of her neck. Something pulled me to the place in between, and from the way her body hummed against my lips, I’d known I’d chosen correctly.
I swallowed the urge to provoke her. Because if I was truly the boss, and she was letting me be in charge, I was down for an erotic game of Simon Says.
And my first order would have her unzipping that dress, letting me feast on every beautiful part of her.
“What can I get you?” I asked, purposefully injecting enough sex in my voice to let her know that everything was on the menu.
She arched an eyebrow. “Trying to get me all liquored up so you can take advantage of me? Is that your master plan?”
In that moment, I decided to throw every bit of caution to the wind and lay it all out there.
“Natalee, my master plan is to have you, every which way. And I can do so without the assistance of alcohol.”
Even in the shadows, I saw her hitch her breath, her cheeks warming, making me want to take her face in my hands and feel the heat radiate from her skin for myself.
“And when I have you,” I continued, showing off my skills by spinning the glass in my hand without dropping it. “You will beg me for it.”
“Beg you for what?” Her voice was hoarse with curiosity. With want.
I made her wait, filling two glasses with fresh ice. Thinking about tracing the line of her neck with one of the cubes.
“Every inch,” I finished finally.
My words had immediate impact because her eyes went round, like they had when she’d stared at my cock before the wedding.
Stroking it.
Craving it.
