by Jacob Chance
“A diet soda would be great, please,” I’m the first to reply.
“Have a real drink,” Adam orders.
“No alcohol for me, I’m the DD, remember?”
“I’ll be driving us home.”
“Wait.” Holding up a hand, I bring my lips together in a small smile. “Are you one of those macho assholes who won’t let anyone else drive their truck?”
“Nope, not at all. I’m one of those macho assholes who doesn’t want someone who isn’t familiar with the area or my vehicle having to drive home late at night. In case you didn’t notice on the way here, the roads are really dark and winding.”
“Oh.” My expression is chagrined. “I guess I owe you an apology for assuming the worst.”
“I’m not going to say that I’m not a macho asshole sometimes, but not in this case. Now what would you like to drink?”
“I’ll take a piña colada with extra cherries.”
He asks Larsen and Vi what they want and tells us to find a seat while he orders.
Larsen leads the way through the other patrons to the one open table in the back corner. He and Vi choose seats next to each other, leaving me to take one with my back to the window. I study Adam leaning nonchalantly against the bar waiting for our order. Tall and broad shouldered, he’s eye catching for his large size alone. But once you see his face and his green eyes level on you, like they’re currently doing to me, it’s hard to hang on to your wits.
A tall, model-thin blonde saunters over, placing her hand on his arm, drawing his attention and releasing me from my brain-fog trap. Adam smiles at her before pulling her close in a hug that seems to be overly friendly. She’s probably one of his many conquests. My lips reflexively press tightly together with irritation.
What did I expect? Did I think that because we’re in another state he’d act differently than his norm? He’s been relentlessly flirting with me all afternoon. He can’t seem to help himself. Maybe flirting is all he knows how to do.
Tearing my eyes away, I take in the rustic decor that’s perfect for this location. Pine boards run horizontally up the walls and across the angled ceiling. Round, black, industrial looking light fixtures hang evenly spaced over the bar. The high gloss sheen on the hand carved feature highlights the wood's natural grains, giving it the appearance of rippling water. It also reflects the warm glow of the overhead lights, like the sun shining down on a lake.
When my eyes seek Adam once more, I’m surprised to find him heading this way, balancing our drinks in his large hands. He passes them out without mixing them up or spilling any.
“Thank you.” I raise the glass, slipping the straw between my glossed lips. Drawing a deep pull of the piña colada into my mouth, my eyes close as the pineapple and coconut flavors explode on my taste buds. It’s like a tropical vacation in a glass. If only it contained magical powers that could transport me away to paradise right now.
“Good?” Adam asks in a hoarse tone.
I meet his gaze, nodding. “Sorry. I didn’t realize my enjoyment was so obvious.”
He leans over, bumping my shoulder with his. “It was hard to miss the look of rapture on your face.”
“Oh, God.” Embarrassed, I cover my eyes with my hand. And what strange phenomena is this? I never get embarrassed by men.
Briefly catching my wrist, Adam draws it downward, exposing my face to his appreciative gaze. Placing my palm flat on the table, he releases his hold. “Rocky, don’t get embarrassed because I saw your orgasm face.” A wicked, crooked grin angles one side of his lips upward. “It was hot as hell.”
My mouth falls open and then closes. Then opens and closes some more as I struggle for something to say. Giving up, I wrap my lips around the straw, sucking down the ice cold beverage until pain racks my head. I clap my palm to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut to soothe my brain freeze.
Fucking ouch.
This is not going how I planned.
6
Adam
“Brain freeze, huh?” I ask, feeling sympathetic.
The only answer Roxanne gives me is a pained whimper.
Shifting on the stool, I turn to face her. Placing my fingertips on each of her temples, I croon, “Relax,” slowly rubbing in a circular motion. She turns into my touch, desperate for relief. After a few seconds, she releases a relieved groan, and I remove my hands.
Her eyelids slowly lift, revealing her look of gratitude.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. How did you know that would help?”
How did I know? I didn’t. I saw her pain and needed to do something to ease her suffering. An urge to make her better hit me, and I couldn’t help myself. That my technique worked is merely a happy accident.
I hold my hands up, wiggling my fingers. “These hands have the cure for whatever ails you.”
“What can they do about bad company?” Her lips quirk.
“Rox,” Violet says her name in a scolding manner. “Be nice.”
Roxanne doesn’t reply. At least not verbally. Eyes bouncing back and forth between the girls, I watch their brief, animated, silent conversation take place.
Larsen stands. “Anyone ready for another?”
“I’ll come with you,” Vi offers with a smile, slipping from her stool.
“We’ll each take another,” I intercede before my reluctant companion can disagree.
Roxanne stares after Vi and Larsen, as if she wants to shout take me with you.
“Alone at last.” I can't ignore the chance to tease her.
She sucks down the rest of her drink, this time with no problem. “So, what do you do for work?” I ask.
She jerks, as if she’s been kicked underneath the table.
“You all right, there?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She forces a stiff smile, awkwardly baring her teeth like a donkey. Albeit, she might be the cutest donkey I’ve ever seen.
“You never answered my question about your work,” I remind her.
“Oh. Uh. Umm… I own my own business.”
“And what does said business involve?” I prod, eager to know more about this beautiful woman.
“Nothing exciting.” She fidgets with her bracelets, twisting them around her narrow wrist.
“I’ll be the judge of that. That is, if you ever share the details with me.” I smile.
She laughs, but it’s abrupt and sharp, not like her real one. I had the pleasure of hearing her genuine laugh earlier today when she was joking around with her friends. Husky and sexy, the sound stirred up images of us naked and rolling between the sheets, giving me a semi. And as a result, it might be my newest life goal to hear the throaty sound again when we’re both naked and in my bed. Or her bed. I’m not picky.
“I have an investigation firm,” she finally reveals.
I definitely wasn’t expecting her to say that. “Do you mean private investigations?”
“Yes, amongst other things,” she offers without clarifying.
Why is she being so friggin’ cryptic? Getting her to talk about herself is like prying the lid off Pandora’s Box. Challenge fucking accepted.
“Where’s your business located?” I’m not about to stop the questions. I’m pushing for as much information as possible.
“Brookline. Comm Ave., more specifically.”
I let out a whistle. “That’s a great location. How did you manage that one? I have friends who’ve been looking for real estate there for years and have had no luck.”
She shrugs one golden shoulder. “I’m lucky, I guess. I found space the first day I began searching for a place to rent.”
“If you ever need to renovate, let me know. Rex and I will be glad to take care of it for you. We’ll even give you the friend's discount.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you. I’ll keep you guys in mind if I do.”
“And to think I’m offering before you’ve even slept with me.” I wink.
She scoffs. “Is this how you reel in new business? Do you dangle
your dick, hoping they bite in more ways than one?”
I cover my zipper. “Ouch. No biting. Unless you want to bite my neck. I’m all for that.”
“Gross. No, thanks. Has it ever occurred to you to try a little less? You’re overselling.”
“You think?”
She nods. “I know. Look, you’re a good-looking guy, and you seem intelligent enough. I’m sure you don’t need to resort to cheesy, trite pickup lines to get laid.”
I imagine raising and pumping my fist. She thinks I’m good-looking. “You’re right. I don’t usually have to say much.”
She tips her head, studying me. “Then why are you?”
“You’re not blinded by my good looks. I’m trying to win you over.”
She rolls her eyes. “With predictable come-ons?”
“No, with charm.”
“I’m pretty sure you have a twisted version of being charming.”
“What kind of things do you consider charming?”
She rolls her lips inward as she thinks about my question. “There are a lot of actions that fall under that category. Someone who opens doors for me or pulls out my chair.”
“I opened the door for you. And I would’ve pulled out the stool for you if I hadn’t been getting our drinks.”
“It’s more than that.” She waves her hand, dismissing my reply. “Charming can also be when a man listens when I’m speaking and actually seems to care what I’m saying.”
“I hate to toot my own horn, but I’m listening, and I’m definitely interested.”
She laughs. “Yeah, humility seems to be your strong suit.”
“Did I mention I love a woman who can use sarcasm well?”
“Have you ever met a woman you didn’t like?” she asks coolly.
“Of course. I’m a choosy motherfucker about who I spend time with. Especially outside of bed.”
“Does that mean you don’t mind screwing someone, even if you don’t like them as a person?” she questions.
“Haven’t you ever had sex with someone you didn’t really like but you were attracted to?”
“Nope. I’m not saying I only sleep with guys who are relationship material, because I’m not interested in that. That being said, I don’t sleep with guys who are jerks either.”
So, she’s not interested in a relationship? This woman is a dream come true. She gets more perfect with each minute we spend together. Now, I need to find a way to get her under me tonight.
Or over me.
Or in front of me.
I’m not choosy.
Rocky pulls one of the cherries from her glass and plucks the fruit from the stem with her teeth. She chews slowly, licking her lips when she’s done.
“Can I have your cherry?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“You’re a little late for that,” she drolls, and I laugh. “And who says I want to share?”
“You’ve still got two,” I point out.
“There’s a reason why I order my drinks with extra cherries.”
“In case anyone else wants one?”
“Not even close, but here.” She holds the cherry in front of me, dangling by the stem. Leaning forward, I capture the dark red fruit between my lips, tearing it from the stem.
Rocky slips the stem into her mouth, and I wonder what the hell she’s doing. Does she eat that part too?
I don’t have to wonder for long. After about ten seconds, she expels the object from between her lips using her tongue. Grabbing it between two fingertips, she holds the stem up between us—it’s fucking tied in a knot.
Oh, Christ. “That’s an impressive party trick you’ve got there.”
She smiles. “Some people are good with their hands…” she trails off, leaving me to finish the statement for her.
And some are good with their tongue.
And now I’m hard as a rock and wishing we were alone. I want—I need—to experience those tongue skills firsthand. Since there’s no way for that to happen right now, I down the rest of my beer, hoping the cold liquid will cool off my libido too.
Placing the empty bottle on the table, I avoid looking at Rocky. Instead, I observe Larsen and Vi, heads bent together, deep in conversation since they returned with the next round. Looks like they’re hitting it off. I hate to interrupt, but I need a distraction, so I ask, “How do you guys feel about moving to one of the back rooms? There are comfortable couches, and my brother and I can smoke cigars.”
Violet answers first. “I’m fine with that.”
Rocky let’s out a relieved groan. “Thank God. My ass is killing me from this hard stool.” She stands, rubbing each cheek.
“Want some help?” I thoughtfully inquire.
She titters. “You’d enjoy it way too much.”
“You’re right. I would.” Placing my hand on her lower back, I guide her into the next room. We settle onto two burgundy leather loveseats—Rocky and me on one and Larsen and Vi on the other directly across from us.
Flagging down a waitress, Larsen and I order another round of drinks and a couple of cigars.
“Do you guys live near each other?” Larsen asks the girls.
“Yep. We’re within fifteen minutes from each other and also Danika.”
“Do you get to see each other often?” Larsen questions.
Damn, he must really be liking Vi if he’s going the small talk route.
“We get together at least once each week.”
“How about you guys?” Vi turns the table on him.
“Me and Adam?” Larsen gestures between us.
“Yeah, and your other brothers too,” Vi clarifies.
“We see each other weekly. Sometimes we go out for drinks or over to one of our places to catch a game. Jack doesn’t join us as often as we’d like. He’s the oldest brother, and he has kids in their late teens. It seems like he’s always got something going on.”
“Or maybe he wants us to think he does,” I cut in. “Sometimes I think Jack avoids spending too much time with us on purpose. He prefers peace and quiet, and when the four of us get together it’s anything but.”
The waitress returns, setting our drinks down on the coffee table between the two loveseats and also a small rectangular dish with our cigars and everything we’ll need on it before hurrying off.
I hand Larsen a cigar and a small box of matches with the bar’s name printed on the top. Grabbing the cutter, I snip off the end and pass it to Larsen, so he can do the same.
Striking a match, I hold the cigar in my hand. Placing the tip above the flame, I roll it between my fingers until the end is glowing and then slip it between my lips. I puff a handful of times and glance at Larsen to find him doing the same. Smoking a cigar has always been something I find extremely relaxing. I can take my time and enjoy the taste. Leaning back into the soft, worn leather, I glance at our female companions.
“You sure you guys are okay with this?” I ask, waving my lit cigar.
“Definitely, I’ve always loved the smell,” Violet reassures, “and Roxanne’s been known to smoke them.”
My head turns to Rocky. “Really?”
She shrugs. “Occasionally.” Snatching the cigar from my fingers, she raises it to her slick, red lips. Entranced, I watch her mouth wrap around the brown cylinder and her cheeks hollow as she puffs on it.
Fuck me.
It’s only natural that now I’m imagining what her lips would look like wrapped around a certain appendage of mine.
She releases a perfect smoke ring, and I rub my palm over my chest, as if I can slow my rapidly beating heart.
Oh, Christ. I think I’m in love.
7
Roxanne
Remaining at the bar until closing, Adam drives us home, as he promised. Keeping a watchful eye on him at the bar, I made sure he didn’t drink too much. That’s the only reason I paid such close attention to him all night. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But even I’m not buying my lame excuse.
He switched to
drinking water for the last two hours, and that’s when I felt comfortable enough to take my own drinking up a notch or two.
Somehow, Vi and I ended up doing shots, which was a horrible decision. Thank God we had the presence of mind to refuse the Winters brothers offer of using their washboard abs for body shots. Well, I did, anyway. I don’t count Vi’s squealing and doing the Carlton dance as turning them down. Then again, neither was her licking salt from his stomach before slurping tequila from his belly button.
But somehow, common sense prevailed—mine, at least—and I was able to salvage some of my dignity. At least until we got inside Adam’s truck. Then I don’t know what got into Vi—well, that’s not exactly true. Larsen’s tongue definitely penetrated her mouth the minute the drive home began.
Now, I’m trapped in the front seat next to a smirking Adam, our ears being assaulted by moans, groans, and heavy breathing.
Leaning my head back against the leather headrest, I sigh.
What have I done to deserve this?
“Does this monster truck have a radio?” I ask.
Adam’s shrewd gaze sweeps over me before returning to the dark, winding road. He mindlessly punches a couple of buttons on his steering wheel and Marvin Gaye croons about sexual healing and getting down tonight.
I shit you not.
Adam laughs so hard his entire torso shakes. I want to punch him in his laughing mouth, but since he’s driving and I don’t want to die, the logical option is to simply join in. I start with a snigger and progress to a full belly laugh within seconds.
“Do you guys mind?” Larsen calls out from the back seat of the cab, which only adds fuel to the fire. Tears gather in the corner of my eyes and I swipe them away with my fingertips. I see Adam do the same with his palms while still navigating us safely along.
The two adults sucking face in the back like teenagers reluctantly part when Adam parks his truck in the driveway.