After I finish my first drink and order another, I wander up to the group of guys at the pool table. We play for a little over an hour, drawing an even larger crowd because – clearly – we’re the most fun this joint has seen in a while. I’m cozied up and working on one of the hottest guys in the group when he informs me he has a fiancé.
Buzz Killington, ladies and gentlemen.
I hang out with the group a little longer, hoping to move on to a new prospect, but they all head out before I have a chance to seal the deal with any of Mr. I’m-Engaged-But-You-Don’t-Need-To-Know-That-Until-It’s-Clear-You-Expect-To-Sleep-With-Me’s friends. Sighing, I take my place in the same barstool as before and Jarrett slides a fifth drink my way.
I hold up my hands. “I should probably say no this time. It’s almost closing time and I need to drive.”
“Not necessarily,” he offers. I eye him curiously and the corner of his mouth pulls up mischievously. He finishes wiping down a glass and hangs it above his head before leaning across the bar, his minty breath tickling my drunken senses. “You’ve been trying all night to get with that douchebag when I could have told you from the beginning that he wasn’t available. And now, you’re left with an ache between your legs that you don’t want to take care of on your own. So yes, you could drive home, get up and go to work tomorrow and just try again another night. Or,” he pauses, licking his bottom lip and dragging his teeth across the top as his eyes fall to my mouth. “You could give me your keys, jump in my truck, and let me take you back to my place so I can cure you of your current situation.”
Oh hell to the fucking yes.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I fish my keys from my purse and drop them on the counter, cocking a brow. Jarrett bites his lip as he grabs the keys and shoves them in his pocket.
“Give me five.”
Four and a half minutes later, we’re tangled up in the back seat of his truck. I run my hands down his incredibly cut abdomen and lift his shirt up and over his head as he pulls the straps of my dress down over my shoulders. His lips are hard on mine and his hands run the length of my body until they grip my hips so hard I’m not sure if I should cry out in pain or pleasure.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to my place?” he pants, kissing down my neck. My eyes roll back and a moan escapes my lips.
“I think I’d rather see how all that talk holds up in the back of a truck.”