Page 5 of Dirty Reads

“I’m going to be fired,” I murmured.

“Your name,” he said. “I asked you what your name was.”

“Jess.” I tilted my head to the side, pulling it away from his hand. “I’m Jess.”

He coughed out a light laugh. “You pull away because you’re scared? Or you just want me to think you’re hard to get?”

His questions caught me off guard. “I uhhm, I was just…”

He cocked his head to the side and his mouth curled into a mischievous little grin. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

“The reason you pulled away. It doesn’t matter.”

My eyes fell to the street. I studied the tips of his shiny black shoes and felt guilty for wanting him to touch me again. If anyone else would have touched me the way he did, I would have slapped them. But, I hadn’t had sex in forever. And he was really hot.

“Why?” I asked. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

He reached for my chin and lifted against it until our eyes met. “Because it doesn’t.” He released my chin and lowered his hand.

My eyes followed his hand as he reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. He produced a business card and flipped it between his fingers with the finesse of a magician performing card tricks.

He extended his hand. “Here.”

As I reached for the card my eyes once again fell to his very noticeable bulge.

I took the card from his hand. My mouth went dry, and responding in any manner that included speaking was quickly excluded as an option. I fought to swallow, slowly raised my shoulders, and simply shrugged.

“Call me, text me, whatever. Don’t make me wait long.” He shook his head. “Jesus. Looking at you makes me…”

I wanted him to finish his thought, but he never did.

I fought against the tightness in my throat. There were a million things I felt I should have said, and half as many again that I wanted to, but for whatever reason, none of them came out. I wondered if he felt my silence was an invitation or maybe acceptance of his request to call him.

I tried to force myself to say something, but instead lowered my eyes until they met the outline the rim of his cock made against the leg of his jeans.

Holy shit!

He reached for his back pocket. “You work in the bar?”

I swallowed a mouthful of saliva and nodded.

“Patel’s an asshole.”

I exhaled and nodded again, shocked that he knew the owner of the bar by name. “Uh huh.”

As he shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, the tail of his shirt raised slightly, but it was enough for me to see what it had been concealing.

A pistol was wedged between the waist of his jeans and his hip. I tore my eyes away from the gun, hoping he didn’t notice me staring.

Without speaking, he turned away.

“Call me,” he said over his shoulder as he opened his car door.

I stood and stared.

“I mean it,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll hunt your little ass down, Jess.”

And what? Burn my fucking house down?

I raised the shiny black card in the air and waved it in his direction as if agreeing to his demand. As his car sped away, I glanced down at the what he had handed me. A telephone number and his first name was all that was printed on the card.

I gazed down at his name and grinned.

Dick.

How appropriate.