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Before I can talk myself out of it, I cup the back of her head with my hand and lower my mouth to hers. I capture the faintest hint of her lip gloss - strawberries and cream – before she gasps. Taking advantage of her surprise, I stroke my tongue across hers.
The taste of Baileys and butterscotch race across my tastebuds. Desperate to consume more of her, I deepen the kiss. Her lips are so soft underneath mine and the way she mewls and tries to cling to me, even with the bar between us, leaves me hard and aching for her. It's probably just as well that there is a barbetween us, or I would have had her out of her dress and down on the floor. Or, as I've fantasised about several times already this evening, bent over the bar in front of me while I slide into her from behind. The need to bury myself in her is as strong as the need to breathe, the way my heart jackhammers in my chest a direct echo of the throb in my dick.
Claire has been my fantasy woman for nine years; the woman I wasn't supposed to think about or dream about, or ever pursue. But tonight she set this thing in motion between us, giving me the chance to act on every dirty, secret fantasy I've ever had about her. I let them all race through my head, every tawdry possibility, before I reluctantly let her go.
She's panting as she stares at me.
"You're too late," she says, but her voice is shaky and holds no conviction.
"I'll tell you what." I lean on the bar again. "Hear me out and if you're not happy with what I have to say, I'll back off. Not just on this, but about everything."
"You'll drop the big brother act?"
I hold up both hands in a sign of surrender. "I'll never warn another guy off again."
Thankfully, the stranger that was hitting on her has turned his attention elsewhere, so I don't have to worry about him for now.
"Okay," she says, albeit reluctantly. "You have a deal."
"Don't go anywhere," I tell her.
"How much do I owe you for the drink?" she asks before I can turn away.
"The house owes you, Claire. And so do I. You really came through for me tonight."
"I had fun," she says with a small shrug. "But I guess you do owe me."
"I'll make it up to you tonight if you let me," I say suggestively.
"Really?"
She's playing at dubious, but she can't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips, nor can she hide the anticipation that mirrors my own.
"Hell yeah,” I grin. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”
8
Dylan
“Who you texting?”
I lean over the bar, making Claire jump at the sound of my voice. She quickly looks back down at her phone.
“Um, Kara.”
“She's worried about you?”
A smile tugs at her beautiful lips and she looks up at me under her dark lashes. “She wants to know how I went propositioning you.”
I snatch her third shot glass for the night away and put it under the bar. “Given that you were successful, I'm cutting you off.”
“Why's that?” she asks, making a cute frowny-face.
I lean in so we're mere inches apart, tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and say, “Because I want you sober enough to remember every single thing I'm going to do to you tonight.”
I hear her draw in a breath and watch as her eyes darken even further. I pull back and grin. “So what did Kara think about your decision to proposition me?”
“She thought it was a great idea.”
