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He wastes no time putting himself between me and Abigail. His movement is a very clear reminder that she is completely off-limits to me.
“I fucked up…” I mumble the words while stepping toward him and extending my bloodied hand before he has a chance to ask me the question we both know is on his mind.
Why did I come here?
CHAPTER TWO
SAMUEL
About Two Months Ago
“Can I get a refill, beautiful?” I flag down the petite, young, brunette bartender to refill my beer.
She grabs a bottle from the under-bar fridge, pops off the cap, and places it in front of me. Leaning forward, she places her forearms on the bar and looks at me inquisitively before she says, “This doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
She’s not wrong.
The Rusty Anchor is a dive bar. From the outside, it looks condemned. The inside isn’t much better, with burned-out lights and dust covering most surfaces. Nothing but bottled—mostly warm—beer. The floors are sticky. The barstools wobble. The clientele is questionable.
The warm beer and shitty atmosphere aren’t why I’m here, though—she is.
“You look vaguely familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” she presses with a raspy tone.
No, but I’ve seen you.
Four days ago, I ran into her walking down the street. It was likely inconsequential to her—just a little bump between strangers—but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.
The way her bright green eyes sparkled as she briefly glanced up at me. How fucking great those long, lean legs of hers would look wrapped around my waist as she took my cock. And I can’t stop imagining what that raspy voice of hers will sound like when she’s screaming as I take her.
Thoughts I know I won’t be able to rid myself of until I get what I need—to be buried inside of her as I completely overpower her petite body.
“You haven’t,” I answer shortly. I’m not here to make small talk with her, but I’ll do whatever is necessary to get her alone.
“You strike me more as the kind of guy that would visit The Rail.” She continues to look me over. “The rich, stuffy assholes over there seem like much more your type.”
“Did you just call me a rich, stuffy asshole?” I smirk before taking a sip of my room-temperature beer.
A slight blush of pink spreads over her cheeks as she quickly struggles to figure out how to respond. “I’m just saying. A guy like you. A place like this. If you were planning on slumming it, we don’t exactly get a whole lot of single women in here.”
“What about you?” I cock an eyebrow and her eyes widen slightly.
“What about me? Am I single?” she stammers slightly before breaking eye contact. “Yes.”
Fuck, she’s adorable.
“Do you think I’d be slumming it with you?” Her face drops slightly when I pause. “Because I think you’re fucking stunning. Too fucking gorgeous and intriguing to be in a dump like this.”
Her eyes fall to the floor, and my cock twitches as I watch the heated crimson creep up her neck and over her cheeks.
How have the men in this place not eaten this sweet girl alive yet?
Because I’m ready to have my fucking way with her right here on this bar top.
“Hey, Mia,” a drunken, middle-aged man calls from the other end of the bar. “What the fuck do I have to do to get another beer around here?”
Looking up, she briefly makes eye contact with me before grabbing a beer and tending to the other waiting customers.
Mia…
