Page 7 of Tank’s Weakness

Slowly, I shake my head no.

She purses her lips.

“Pick it up.” Her tone has changed completely.

Gone is the sweet girl who wasn’t sure she wanted a drink. In her place is a woman who isn’t told no.

My cock strains in my pants at her tone. It’s authoritative. I both love and loathe how it makes my body sing for her.

Without making her ask twice, I bend down and pick it up, tossing it in the trash.

“Smoking is bad, you know,” she informs me.

“I’m aware. So, are you going to come in for a drink or let me walk you to your car?”

She thinks it over for a moment before looking down the street where the prick disappeared. “One drink wouldn’t hurt.”

I motion for her to go in the door ahead of me, discreetly adjusting myself.

This is probably a terrible idea, but fuck, I’m doing it anyway.

CHAPTER TWO

Delaney

“One drink wouldn’t hurt.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, nerves fill my stomach.

I’m not like this. I don’t meet strange men and walk up and kiss them. I don’t let them usher me into bars that I have no business being in, nor do I let them buy me drinks. I’m not in college anymore.

I’m an adult. I have responsibilities, but still, I follow him.

Tank.

Obviously, it’s not his real name. I know enough about biker society to nod along and not make a fool of myself, but that’s where it ends.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks as we approach.

Tank turns toward me and raises a brow, silently telling me to go first.

“Uh, what do you have for vodka drinks in cans?” I ask.

I’ve never had one, but I know Erica has recently started drinking them.

“We have High Noon, Cutwater, Surfside, and Carbliss.”

“Let’s go Carbliss,” I say, remembering that brand.

“Peach or cranberry?”

“Cranberry, please.”

Turning around, he reaches into the cooler and grabs one. I watch as he opens the tab before sliding it toward me.

“Thank you.”

“Yuengling,” Tank says.