by Morgan Fox
“You tell me,” she countered.
For a heated moment, he simply stared at her. She had dark blonde hair, not quite brown and far from gold. Her pale skin revealed that she didn’t spend much time in the sun, but she was still pretty in her own way.
“Are you from Dallas?”
She furrowed her brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
It didn’t, but he found a need to talk with her further. “I bet you are. You’ve got a feistiness about you that screams Dallas native.”
She rolled her eyes at him, turning to move away from him. “Just go back to your table and hang out with your boyfriends.”
He studied her body from head to toe. She was tall and curvy, hips and breasts that teased him. She might not be the kind of woman he traditionally dated—supermodel thin, with bleach-blonde hair, and utterly plastic—but feisty bartender was certainly fuck worthy. He bet a woman like her gave as good as she received.
“Boyfriends? I hardly like them,” he admitted. More truth in his words than he’d ever shared with anyone else.
She laughed, facing him. “Oh, that’s rich. Make yourself appear different from your obnoxious pack of heathens.” She tsked under her tongue. “If only I was younger and naive, I might just have bought into that line of crap you’re selling.”
He sipped his drink, leaning forward against the bar. “I’m only here to not look like the dick of my office.” He paused. “See that one that has the glazed over look in his eyes?”
“Don’t they all?”
He grinned, her attitude was fierce and sexier than it should’ve been. “Yes, but the one who looks like he’s still in puberty.” He thought he saw a glimpse of a smile. “Today is his birthday and I told him I’d show up. I did. I was just about to leave.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “What’s stopping you?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Something gripped his chest and pinched it tight, driving a pulsing heat straight to his cock. There was no denying that he wanted her. Most likely because she didn’t seem to want him.
She frowned. “Sorry, Rusty Nail, but I’m not interested.”
“Really?” He grimaced. “You could’ve fooled me. After all, you’re the reason I came over here to begin with.”
Her brows rose high on her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been looking at me since I walked in the door.”
“I have not,” she argued.
He chuckled. “Yes, you have, and I have to admit that I’ve been watching you, too.”
She looked nervous. “I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen here, but you should know that there is nothing sexy about a bunch of little boys in suits snickering over the bartender.”
“You weren’t paying attention if you think I was snickering over you. Enjoying the tight bead of your nipples against that thin white shirt as I eye-fucked you, yes, I did that.” He licked his lips. “I’m still doing it.”
Her jaw hung open.
He wasn’t sure what made him say it, it might have been the sexual dry spell he’d put himself under months ago or it was the way her cheeks turned rosy as he teased her with the notion of sex. “I’d like very much to see more of you.”
“Fuck that, pal. You could have some disgusting disease or be a freak that rapes and murders women.” She scoffed. “No thanks.”
She turned away from him and he didn’t like the feeling of rejection. Suddenly, he felt compelled to win the fight—the gut-wrenching feeling that consumed him when he took a case to court. “Or I could be none of those things and simply want to fuck you.” He waited until she faced him again. “Is it so unimaginable to believe that a stranger would find you attractive and want nothing more from you than to spend the night together?”
She swallowed hard, her eyes rounding.
“I spend each day entrenched in my work. I’m a busy man and I don’t date. I don’t have time for much of anything. Something made me come here and for the first time all night, I’m glad that I did.” He swallowed, diving headlong into his closing arguments. “Now, if I was some kind of freak, would I spend this much time trying to convince you to come home with me, or would I just wait for you to get off your shift and take what I wanted in the parking lot. Or better yet, follow you home.”
He swore he saw her shiver. “Now stop being such a prude and do the one thing you know you want to do. Go home with me tonight.”
Chapter Two
“You’re lucky I don’t punch you in the face for talking to me like that,” Janie told him, her body hot with an unavoidable heat.
If I’m so appalled, why does sleeping with him sound like a good thing to do?
Damn, he talked a good game. Rusty Nail didn’t flinch or look away as he told her of his sexual desires. He also didn’t seem bothered by the snickering pack of idiots cheering him on. And had she not been sexually attracted to him, she wouldn’t be standing in front of him, considering his proposition. If he fucked like he looked, she’d walk funny for a week, maybe longer.
“I won’t apologize,” he said directly. “I’m not saying anything that you don’t want to hear.”
Her throat went dry. She hadn’t had a good night of passion in, well, ever. She’d had sex, sure, but nothing that was mind-numbing or storytelling worthy. She had a feeling that Rusty Nail’s ego wouldn’t let him be a lousy lay. Getting a woman to go to bed was easy when a person looked like he did and smelled like hundred dollar bills. There were a dozen women in the bar that had been eyeing him since he walked in. For some reason, he’d been eyeing only her.
What did she have to lose? She’d get laid, finally, by a man that was dangerously attractive and understood the importance of personal hygiene. There was a good chance she’d never have to see him again, since this was the first time he’d ever come into Iron Horse. Rusty Nail struck her as a guy that would visit a martini bar before stepping foot inside a sports bar. It really was a win-win for her.
“Okay, I’ll go home with you. Just know that I want more than your dick getting wet.” Janie glanced over his shoulder to see the table full of curious men. “No pressure, but I expect you to be the best fuck I’ve ever had. Don’t disappoint me or each one of your little friends will know exactly how badly you failed.”
If he wanted to have sex with her, she was game. He was by far the sexiest man she’d ever seen. There was nothing unattractive about him other than his piss-poor, snobby, I’m-better-than-you attitude. But she wasn’t going to sleep with his personality, she was going to get her lust sated with a delicious man who hopefully liked wearing a ball gag.
“I get off at midnight. If you want me, you’ll have to wait until then.”
His victorious, panty-dropping grin stunned her. “I’ll wait and then watch with pleasure as you get off again.”
A jolt of heat chased along the nerve-endings of her body. She wasn’t sure if it was the way he looked or the things he said, but he was turning her on at warp speed. She hoped she could survive the next few hours without needing to run to the bathroom to masturbate. Never in her life had something like this happened to her. Nothing had ever made her pussy so wet and eager for pleasure.
When Rusty Nail returned to the table with his friends, Jace closed in on her. “Are you out of your damn mind?” He didn’t let her talk as he continued, “I heard what you’re doing. You’re going home with him. You don’t even know him.”
“Wow. When did you go all Cops on me?”
“When you made plans to sleep with him,” Jace said, hiking his thumb over his shoulder in Rusty Nail’s direction.
“Seriously?” Layton Goldman asked, slipping up beside Janie, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders. “You got that hot-ass lawyer dude to ask you out?”
“No, I didn’t,” Janie said matter-of-factly. She had no intentions of going out with him. That meant dating. Sex was sex and clearly not the same thing.
Layton furrowed her brow, her green eyes searching. “I heard him ask you to go home with him tonight.”
“He did.” Again her tone gave no indication of how nervous she was about the encounter and the prospect of going through with her one-night affair.
“And?” Layton dragged out the word.
“How is it that you heard anything? You should be working in the restaurant, covering for Claire tonight, not eavesdropping on my conversations.”
“How could I not? He’s smoking hot and I heard the word sex tossed around like a dozen times. I think I heard fuck, too.” Layton feigned a shiver. “Sex and fuck are two words that are like a homing beacon for curious minds. Especially horny ones.”
“You mean, perverted ones.”
“You say potato and I say don’t screw this up. You have the chance to have all that.” She inclined her chin at Rusty Nail. “That’s pretty awesome.”
What if she was making a mistake? What if he was some kind of predator and she’d let herself agree to something she might never have if he hadn’t pushed her buttons so well. “Ever seen him in here before?”
“No,” Layton said. “Never and that’s horribly unfortunate.”
Not for Janie, it wasn’t. She liked the idea even more of going home with Rusty Nail. She’d get what she needed without the awkward aftermath.
“I think you’re making a mistake, Janie,” Jace told her, his jaw ticking. “Before you leave, you better make sure I have all his information. Full name, address, phone number. Everything. If anything happens to you, I’m going to arrest his Armani-wearing ass.”
* * * *
Victor was buzzed. He’d had more than his normal share of alcohol. He didn’t normally like drinking in public. Too many things could go wrong. Too many reasons to need a lawyer like him to get out of a bad situation.
He headed for the bathroom for a moment to clear his head. Splashing a bit of water on his face, he promised himself he wouldn’t touch another drink even if it meant not being able to dart up to the bar to watch the cheeks of the bartender redden with lust.
With a crooked grin and a tingle in his pants, he finished up in the bathroom and stepped out into the hallway. The bartender that somehow managed to enflame him stared back at him.
He eyed her curiously, scanning her stiff posture as he approached. “Change your mind about going home with me?”
“I don’t even know your name,” she told him, folding her arms over her chest. “What kind of person goes home with someone they don’t know?”
Good point. He dug into his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I told you before that I only want a night with you. I’m not interested in anything long term. I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to stalk you. I just want to fuck you.”
She blew out a heavy breath as he closed in on her. He clasped his hands on her shoulders and felt her shiver.
“Is that what you want?”
She nodded slowly, tilting her head back to look at him. He studied her lips, a need to kiss her charging up from deep within him. As he lowered his head, she shimmied away from him. “I’m going to give this to my friend. He’s a cop. If anything happens to me—”
He chuckled, enjoying her feistiness. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, cutting her off. “But…that means you can’t stalk me or come looking for me, either. I’m trusting you with my personal information, Ms.?” He let the need for her name hang in the air.
“Janie,” she confessed. “Janie Tatum.”
“Janie,” he repeated. “I hope you can respect my privacy as well.”
She smirked. “Try not to let this hurt your ego too much” –she glanced at his driver’s licenses— “Mr. Cadwell, but I’m not normally attracted to men like you. So after tonight, I’d be over the moon to never seeing you again.”
Damn, the things he could do with that wicked tongue. “Sounds perfect. But there is one thing,” he started, catching her attention as he pulled her against him, and took her mouth in a hard kiss.
With one arm wrapped around her waist and the other molded to the side of her face, he possessed her mouth. He was pleased to discover the compatibility he sampled from her lips—a connection that burned hot. The more he deepened the kiss, the more pliant she became. The fiery taste of peppermints filled his senses. She moaned as he moved his mouth to her neck and her hands kneaded the flesh of his back, practically clawing at him.
For a moment, he forgot himself, collecting her in his arms and pushing her up against the nearest wall. Her wild flavor was maddening, driving him to press his thick shaft against her, teasing her with what was to come. She gasped as he lifted her up, her legs instantly wrapping around his hips. He bucked forward, dry-fucking her as he kissed her, diving his tongue deep into her mouth.
With one final taste of her, he gently released her, stepping away from the wall. She looked at him, but said nothing. Then she took out her cell phone and snapped a picture of his driver’s license.
“I’d hate for you to lose this,” she said, handing the license back to him.
She turned as if to head back to the bar. “I’ll wait for you,” he told her.
“Don’t bother,” she replied, inclining her head to look back at him. “I can find my way.”
Victor grinned, wondering if she would actually show up at his house. He seriously hoped she would. The erection he fought to contain did, too.
* * * *
“Where the hell have you been,” Jace asked gruffly, mixing his own drinks. “Whatever happened to making sure I had my drinks made quickly?”
Layton chuckled. “Didn’t you notice that lawyer dude, the one that wants to slip Janie the hot beef injection, was missing, too?”
Jace looked at Janie and frowned. “Tell me you weren’t doing him in the bathroom.” He shivered. “That’s just nasty.”
Layton scoffed. “Whatever. Like you wouldn’t take a skank in there to nail, if given the chance.”
“I have a penis. Of course, I’ll do that. But we’re not talking about me.”
Janie rolled her eyes at Jace as she was still swimming with the desire that Victor Cadwell brought out of her. She didn’t know she could be tempted in such an erotic way. In her twenty-six years, she’d never been kissed like that, never felt like she was floating on a cloud. She liked the way he kissed her way more than he should have.
Jace clicked his fingers in her face. “Earth to Janie. Did you hear anything I just said?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Jace held up his index finger, looking as if he’d planned to scold her. “Rule one—no fucking the customers during working hours. Rule two—no abandoning your post during rush hour.” He handed her the print out of their drink orders still needing to be made. “These were needed like ten minutes ago.”
Janie sighed. “Sorry. I’m on it.”
Layton laughed as Jace left with his tray of drinks. “When did he start acting like the serious one around here?”
Her belly fluttered. “About the time I decided to go home with a man I just met.”
Layton’s eyes rounded. “So you’re going to go home with him?”
Janie nodded, taking a second to glance at his table, but he wasn’t there. Even with his absences, she could still feel his hands on her body, his mouth commanding her lips to move.
God, he smelled like autumn—crisp and new, and wickedly delicious.
She shook her head as if to clear away the arousing thoughts. “Why not? It’s about time something exciting happened to me. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to enjoy one hot night of potentially earth-shattering sex with a man I’ll never have to worry about seeing again? I deserve this, damn it.”
That was her argument and she was sticking with it. She’d never had a one-night stand before, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have one now. The idea of sleeping with Victor didn’t frighten her. It stimulated her, tempted her with more of what he’d already demonstrat
ed with her in the hallway. If he could pleasure her the way he already had, a one-night stand would be all she’d need to satisfy her for a long time.
“Damn skippy you do,” Layton cheered. “I say do it? Do it right, and then share all the juicy details the next time you see me.”
Janie slanted her a playful look. “Sure,” she muttered, with absolutely no intentions of doing any such thing.
The night went by so much faster than it had in a long time, probably because she was nervous as hell about what she was planning on doing. She wasn’t an idiot either. Horny as hell, dangerously attracted to a man that she shouldn‘t be, but not an idiot. As she headed toward her motorcycle she pulled her cell phone from her jean pocket and texted a quick message to Jace.
“In case of emergencies.” She included a picture of Victor’s driver’s license.
A few moments later, he replied, “I hope you know what you’re doing?” A second later she got another texted from him. “By the way, he’s never been arrested.”
She smiled as she read the message. Jace had already looked into him. He wondered how he’d done that since he’d been working with her all night. She would have to remember to ask him later.
Putting on her helmet, gloves, and leather jacket, she used her phone to map the directions to Victor’s house. Then, she hopped on her motorcycle and headed in his direction. The moment she pulled up to the gated property, she almost lost all nerve and headed home. And had the gates not began to open the second she arrived, she probably would’ve.
Just then, she heard his voice through the intercom system beside her. “Pull up around the front.”
She did. Slowly.
Parking her motorcycle near the front door, she tugged off her helmet and gloves. Within seconds the door opened and Victor stepped outside to greet her. He was wearing swim trunks. Only swim trucks. She couldn’t even describe the color if needed because her eyes were too busy devour his toned chest, narrowed waist, and that line of muscles that teased her senses just above his shorts. Moisture pooled between her legs and her nipples hardened to sensitive points.