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She was right earlier; we're not the same. And that's not nearly enough reason to keep me from putting my filthy hands all over her.
"Shelby had it coming, princess," I murmur. "She's been pissing me off since she started working here."
She takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly. The way it rushes over my fingers has my cock throbbing. "Okay, but I still feel like I caused a scene."
"The only one who caused a scene was Shelby. And believe me, baby, that scene needed to be caused." I release my grip on her chin, smirking down at her. "Besides, you stood your ground and put her in her place. Hell, who knows? You might even be able to hold your own down at the Waffle Casa with that attitude."
She huffs, rolling her eyes at me as her expression shifts to playful indignation. Despite her best efforts to look stern, a tiny smile plays around her lips. "I will burn your bar to the ground, Memphis. Don't play with me."
I lean back against the edge of the desk, chuckling. And then inspiration strikes. With Shelby out, I need a waitress. I also want Kylie right here for as long as I can keep her here. Two birds, one stone.
"Tell you what," I say, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips. Sometimes, I'm a fucking genius. Even Riley would be impressed. "You leave the fucking matches alone, and I'll let you stay as long as you want. But I'm calling in that favor you owe me."
Her eyes immediately narrow in suspicion. "I'm not sure I want to know what your favor is."
"You trust me that little, huh?"
"Um, yes," she says without hesitation.
"Well, damn." I laugh, clutching my chest. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"
"Just did." She shrugs, smirking at me. "Any additional questions? Because I can keep hurting your feelings if you really want me to. I won't even charge you to do it."
Jesus Christ. I can't wait until she's in my fucking bed. I hope she's just as mouthy when she's begging to come.
"About that favor…" I say, ignoring her sassy ass attitude before I end up fucking her against the wall. "You ever done any waitressing?"
She jumps up from her seat, her hands planted on her wide hips and those emerald eyes shooting off sparks. "Hell no. I am not walking around here topless, Memphis Hughes!" she snaps, fire in her voice. "If that's what you think, you've lost your mind."
What the fuck?
I narrow my eyes, stomping toward her. "Fuck no," I growl, a dangerous edge to my voice. The thought of anyone out there seeing her without a shirt on sends a jolt of possessive anger through me. I'll burn this fucking bar to the ground myself before I let that happen. "You'll be keeping your shirt on, princess."
She glowers at me, suspicion lingering in her eyes, and then she slowly relaxes. "I can keep my clothes on?"
"Every fucking stitch of them," I swear, holding up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute, which only makes her roll her eyes at me again.
"You might as well put those fingers down because we both know you were never a Boy Scout," she mutters with a toss of her head. "But fine, I'll do it. If you pay me."
A slow smile curves my lips up as I cross my arms, eyeing her. She's fuckin' cute and savage, so this oughta be good. She's probably going to take my ass to the cleaners.
"How much, princess? Name your price."
She considers it for a half second before blurting out, "Eighty thousand dollars."
A sharp bark of laughter erupts from my lips at her arbitrary, random number. "Is that all? Fine. You've got it."
She blinks, clearly shocked that I'm giving in so easily. I don't think she expected me to agree. But I would have given her five times that if it meant keeping her in the bar night after night. Honestly, I expected her to ask for five times that. Anyone else would have. But as I'm quickly coming to realize, Kylie isn't anyone else. I don't know why she's here or what she wants, but it's clearly not my money. I'm not even sure it's me. Half the time, I think she'd prefer it if I didn't know she existed at all. Which makes her all the more intriguing because she's clearly here for a reason.
I intend to find out what that reason is.
"Since you work for me now, I guess this means I get to tell you exactly what I want you to do now," I tease, enjoying the way her cheeks blaze bright red.
"Whatever you say, boss man," she mutters, rolling her eyes as she slips past me. I let her get all the way to the door before I slam it shut, trapping her between it and my body.
Her breath hitches as I seam my chest to her back, letting her feel how fucking hard I am for her. Appropriate behavior for her new boss? Fuck no. Do I care? Also, fuck no. This girl is mine. I don't care why she's here. I don't care what she's after. So long as it ends with her in my bed, coming all over me, she can have whatever the hell she wants. And I'll break every rule I have to break in the meantime.
"If anyone tries to put their fucking hands on you, tell me, Toto. I'll remove the goddamn things myself."
