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She’d been coming to the Thirsty Beaver Pub for years, but she’d never seen this guy before. A blessing, really. She had no desire for the usual bartenders, Rose or Colton, to see her on a date.
Not a date.
Right. Not a date.
She slid off the barstool and wobbled in her short, sensible heels.
“Whoa, you okay, gorgeous?” Michael slipped his arm around her, using her unsteadiness to get a good feel of side boob.
“Fine,” she said, ignoring her urge to elbow him in the ribs but tugging away from his grip.
He held out his hand, and after a moment, she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the pub. The world was wavy on the edges, and she could feel the effects of the wine. She was sluggish and unsteady as she followed Michael to the parking lot.
“You okay to drive?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“No problem, we can take my car. You still in for fucking?”
She blinked at his forwardness, her brain trying to catch up with the rest of her. “Uh, yes, are you?”
“Oh hell, yeah.” He stopped next to a green Nissan. “I told you before, you’re fucking gorgeous. This is my car. Where do you live?”
“Oh, uh, I live outside of town,” she said. “I thought we could go to your place?”
There was no way in hell she’d let a random hook-up come back to her house. Hell, she’d had second thoughts about even doing this with Michael since he lived right here in Harmony Falls, but he really had been the best of her matches. Besides, she was a grown woman. She could handle potentially running into a one-night stand in the grocery store.
But bringing Michael to the bedroom she’d shared with Alan was a big fat no. It didn’t matter if the bed she slept on was new, and never once felt the weight of Alan’s body. Didn’t matter that she’d long since donated his clothes and most of his personal items. She still wouldn’t let Michael within ten feet of the room.
“My roommates are home tonight,” he said. “But if you don’t care that they hear us fucking, then -”
“I’m good with a motel,” she said quickly.
He frowned, “I don’t want to pay for a motel. How far out of town do you live?”
“Too far,” she lied.
He pulled her against him, grinning down at her. “Then I guess it’s my place, and you’ll have to keep the screaming to a minimum while I’m fucking you. Or,” he reached down and squeezed her ass, “we can make sure that pretty mouth of yours is too busy sucking my dick to make noise.”
Ugh.
“I’ll pay for the motel,” she said.
He shrugged, his hand still busy squeezing and cupping her ass. “Sure, whatever.”
Without any warning, he dropped his mouth onto hers. She made a muffled squeak, her hands gripping his arms. Michael’s mouth roamed over hers. He tasted like whiskey and, she grimaced inwardly, taco meat. His tongue invaded her mouth, too big and too wet, and her queasy stomach protested.
She’d kissed a few guys in the last year or so, and the kissing hadn’t done a thing for her, which was a real headscratcher because kissing was herthing. Nothing turned her on faster than kissing. Slow, deep, soft, demanding… it didn’t matter. She loved to kiss.
Sure, but it’s gotta be good kissing.
Her stomach lurched when Michael shoved his tongue so far into her mouth that she swore she could feel it touching her tonsils. She tried not to gag and failed, pushing away from Michael and staggering back. Luckily, Michael’s car was behind her, or she would have fallen on her ass.
Michael frowned, his lips shiny and wet in the circle of light from the streetlamp above them. “What’s wrong?”
Everything.
“Nothing,” Savina said. “I … nothing’s wrong.”
