Hot Nights, Dark Desires

by Eden Bradley

  “It shouldn’t be this hard to answer you,” he said finally.

  “I know,” she whispered against his neck. “But it’s okay that it is. It sounds like we’re a lot alike in some ways—sounds like you’ve never taken any time for yourself.”

  “I guess I haven’t.”

  He leaned against the bar and took it all in, wondered if this area could ever rebuild itself the way it had been, even though he knew the answer.

  Nothing ever stayed the same—that was the way things were supposed to work, which was why he changed and left before things did.

  But there was no reason to say he couldn’t stay in one place and weather the changes from there. Once he cleared his name with Terrell and the rest of the town against the charges of Darren’s murder, Bat was going to do some serious planning for his future—for himself and his sister and his niece. He needed to be around to keep his promise to always be there for them. He needed to keep his promise to Big Red.

  He needed to do more than merely survive.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  The town appeared divided by what had happened to Darren, although Flo seemed to come down hard on Bat’s side, and told both Catie and Bat that when she came to the bar with a big bag of her homemade food for them both.

  Catie guessed that, for now, any bad blood that had passed between herself and Flo was gone, especially judging from the way Flo hugged her before leaving the bar to get back to the diner.

  “I think it’s cool that you stuck up for Bat like that,” Jase told Catie as she helped restock the bar before it opened.

  She took that as a major compliment, since the large man with the handsome scowl hadn’t said more than two words to her since arriving in Bayou Rouge. She wasn’t sure if he knew Bat wasn’t getting paid in his usual way, but Bat had assured her that all the staff was being paid in full and on time.

  “I know he didn’t do it. Even if I hadn’t been with him, I’d believe that,” she said, and Jase shook his head.

  “He’s not an angel, Catie.”

  “I think that’s one of the things I like most about him.”

  Jase mumbled something under his breath as he hauled a case of beer onto the bar and pushed it in her direction.

  “Don’t mind him,” Keith told her. “He doesn’t understand why anyone has a relationship that lasts more than one night.”

  She jerked her head toward him in surprise. “Relationship?”

  “You guys are together most of the time. Eat together, sleep together, work here during the day together. I just assumed it was more than a one-night stand.”

  She didn’t say anything else for a few minutes as Keith helped her shift the bottles around in the cooler to make room.

  “Did you know Bat when he was in the Marines?” she asked finally, a safer subject than relationships.

  Keith shook his head. “After he got out—we all worked a job together down in Georgia. Wild time. Bat was still new to the game—still bouncing, like we were. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing.”

  “I always knew,” Jase interrupted as he hauled over another two cases.

  “Yeah, that’s why Bat and I were always saving your ass.” Keith shook his head. “Look, Bat’s sniper days are behind him—and that was a job. Like working here is a job. He doesn’t carry a weapon. Not even a knife. Has used nothing but his bare hands for as long as I’ve known him.”

  “Do you think he’ll be cleared soon?”

  “Word from a buddy who works for the city is he’s the only suspect right now. No fingerprints on the weapon, and the police are working hard to place him at the scene of the crime.” Keith gave her a hard look. “You know that some people say you lied to protect him.”

  “I know. But I wouldn’t do that. And Bat doesn’t need my protection—he was with me.” No, she needed his protection. And because of that, he was in big trouble.

  “He can take care of himself—he’s been doing it for long enough. Jase and I, we’re a lot like Bat, we don’t like to stick around in any one place for very long,” he said. “We grew up that way—followed in our father’s footsteps.”

  “And you like it that way?”

  Keith shrugged. “That’s the way it’s always been. Hey, customers are starting to come in. You shouldn’t be down here.”

  “I know. I’m going,” she said, casting her eyes across the room to Bat, who was near the front entrance, leaning against the wall. She caught his eye and he didn’t smile, but he nodded once at her.

  He probably knew she’d been discussing him, the way he seemed to know everything. But when she turned back slightly on her way up the stairs, she noted that he was still watching her.

  That night, it was noisier than Catie had ever heard it in the bar. She looked out to the back lot, saw it was overflowing with cars and motorcycles, and she wondered if the investigation was the reason for all the people. Or maybe it was merely Bat’s reputation that was ramping things up—Flo had mentioned that the Bon Temps had become the talk of several towns since he’d arrived.

  By two in the morning, things had quieted down completely, and she’d been drawing nearly nonstop. Rubbing her wrist, she unlocked the door and went downstairs. The bar was quiet, most of the tables were still in their upright position and the floor had already been swept.

  Bat came out of the storeroom, his shirt torn but otherwise looking intact. He stopped when he caught sight of her, stared at her legs. She still wore the loose denim shirt she’d been working in—it came down to mid-thigh, and beyond a small thong, she wore nothing else.

  Being around Bat all the time made her want to walk around naked; this was as close as she’d risk it when coming down to the bar, in case Keith or Jase were still around.

  “Rough night?” she asked.

  “No different than the last couple of nights.”

  “Is there any news from Terrell?”

  Bat snorted and shook his head. “He’s been questioning everyone who was in the bar last night—asking about me, about you. About us.”

  About us. She liked the sound of that, if not the circumstances. “Let them talk.”

  “I don’t like people talking about you, Catie. Not like that. Me, they can say anything they want. But you’ve got nothing to do with this…with my past.”

  She bit her bottom lip, fought the urge to go to him. Maybe he needed time alone. Or maybe…“You’re always helping me—what can I do to help you?”

  He stared at her, hair falling across his forehead. He shoved a hand ruthlessly through his hair, pushing it off his face. And then he rubbed the scar on his cheek with one broad knuckle. “You really want to help?”

  She nodded.

  “All right, then. You can help.” He ambled over to start the jukebox, let the familiar zydeco music fill the empty space, and as long as she lived, she wouldn’t forget the familiar strains of “Jole Blon,” the wailing voice of the singer…

  The way Bat looked as he went behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of tequila and several shot glasses and laid them all out on the cracked wood top. “Drinks are up, Catie chere. Come join me.”

  He poured several shots, put the lemon wedges out and slid the salt shaker to where she’d settled onto a stool across from him. The vinyl of the seat was cool under her nearly bare thighs.

  “What did you draw tonight?” he asked as he pushed one of the shots toward her.

  She played with the short, thick glass, stuck a pinky tip into the amber liquid and ran it across the tip of her tongue before she answered him. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”

  The newest sketch detailed their sixty-nine position—it was all shadows and light, half-hidden bodies and very abstract…sophisticated.

  “You’ve been surprising me from the second I walked into this bar.” He ran a hand through his hair again, shoving it away from his face, which served to emphasize his sharp cheekbones, and his scar, even more. And then he yanked a bandanna out of his pocket and t
ied it around his head so it kept his hair out of his eyes, and God, she loved when he did that.

  She licked the outside of her thumb so the salt would stick, but he shook his head. “That’s not the fun way to do that, Catie chere. And here I thought you wanted us to have a good time.”

  “Then I’ll follow your lead.”

  He came out from behind the bar, toward her, a slow, almost predatory swagger that made her pulse quicken. And as he came close, she automatically spread her legs so he could nestle between her thighs.

  He undid the first two buttons of her shirt and tugged it down so one shoulder was bare, while she wrapped a calf around him, as if that alone could keep him close. She shivered when he put his mouth against the sensitive skin of her neck, rubbed it with the day’s worth of rough on his cheeks to tickle her.

  “You like that?”

  “I like that.” She twined her fingers through his hair while he ran his tongue in a long, slow lick across the bared skin of her shoulder.

  She shivered as she felt the light sprinkle of salt dust on her shoulder and realized what he was doing. With the shot glass in his hand, he suckled the salt slowly off her skin in a way that shot straight to her sex, made her nipples tighten and the breath catch in her throat.

  He lifted his head and downed the shot. She took a lime wedge, brought it up to his lips and watched him suck the juice out.

  He licked his lips after she took the lime away. “That was nice. Best shot I ever had. Your turn, Catie.”

  Holding fast to his shoulders, she pulled him down to her so she could lick along his collarbone to the hollow spot at the base of his throat. He arched his neck back when she sprinkled the salt and licked it off, and then she did the remaining two shots in a row before he put the lime between her lips.

  “Now, that’s what I call having fun,” he murmured as the tequila did a long, slow burn all the way to her stomach. “You know, this is where I first saw you. You were standing there, staring out the way you just were. What were you thinking about that night, Catie chere?”

  “I was thinking about you.”

  “Nice try, but you didn’t even notice me walk into the room.”

  She grinned as the pleasant, buzzed feeling kicked in. “I was probably the only woman who didn’t. But yes, I was thinking about you. A man like you. I wasn’t even sure a man like you existed.”

  “A man like me who would watch you dance on tables?”

  “How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?” she asked.

  “Am I wrong?”

  No, he wasn’t wrong. Nothing about the way she felt when she was with him was wrong. “No. I was thinking about what having fun would be like. I never had much time for fun—until recently.”

  “Tables are looking pretty lonely to me.”

  She laughed, until she realized he was serious. That’s when she realized that she was serious too, although he was still smiling at her, and she brushed her hand lightly against his growing arousal. God, she loved being able to do that to him, to make him hard with a word or a stroke, the way he made her wet just by saying her name that certain way…hell, saying her name any way. “You’ve been stopping people from dancing on the tables. New house rules.”

  “You’ve been spying on me?” he asked. She wondered if he’d known she’d been sneaking down to watch what he was doing—not because she didn’t trust him, but because she liked watching him. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

  He changed the song on the jukebox and a slow, sensual beat wafted through the room. “Go ahead…live it up.”

  She walked over to one of the front tables, where Bat helped her up on a chair, and from there to the tabletop, and stood near her, watching.

  She worked the buttons on her shirt, one by one, until it swung loosely around her torso, separating slightly with each of her movements.

  Bat shook his head and she noted the hard bulge in his jeans, thought about all the ways she’d let him take her over the past days and nearly lost all control of herself. He could undo her with a single glance, a low drawl of her name…with the simplest of touches.

  Still dancing, she eased the shirt off her shoulders and then she let it drop from her body and float to the table, and there she was, on the table, nearly naked in front of him in the middle of the empty bar.

  “Are you having fun?” His voice rumbled through her like a red-hot orgasm, and oh yes, she was.

  The cool air from the ceiling fans hit her skin, and her nipples tightened. She put her arms over her head and ran her hands through her hair, turned so her back was to Bat and let the beat of the zydeco music guide her.

  She felt the way she did that first night, when she was on the cot—completely uninhibited. Free.

  God, she loved this.

  She turned to face him and he slid her thong down slowly. She kicked it away impatiently, and he bent in and kissed the small blond triangle between her legs.

  “Bat, I can’t here…”

  But it was too late—his kiss moved down, his tongue found her, began with small, stroking licks as his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Those were the only things holding her steady and upright as he sucked and probed and tasted. Her hands wound in his hair, and sensation shot through her like a rocket, and her core was melting like molten lava.

  “You need to take a picture—draw your pretty little pussy. You’re so beautiful down here, Catie chere. I could take up residence between your legs and live happily.”

  He separated her labia, blew on it softly and then tickled it with his tongue until she cried out, pressed her hand to the back of his head, forcing a hard touch. “Bat, please, I can’t stay upright much longer. Not if you’re going to keep doing that.”

  He obliged by bringing her down so she was sitting on the edge of the table. Then his face went right back between her legs. And when his tongue pressed her clit and circled it with a slow, rhythmic motion, she finally lost all control, called his name over and over as she came against his mouth.

  Again, he didn’t stop there, continued his assault of pleasure on her sex, but this time he slowly inserted a finger inside her. And when she groaned he added another and then a third, and began to rotate his hand in time with his tongue.

  “Bat, please, I can’t…” But he didn’t stop, and she could, and did—was breaking apart, shattering into a thousand pieces against his mouth and hand as a long, keening cry left her throat and floated through the Bon Temps.

  In seconds, he had them both down on the floor—he’d spread out his T-shirt and grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket. She ripped the packet out of his hand and sheathed him, moving on a mixture of adrenaline and lust as she straddled his thighs.

  Her legs wrapped around his body while he remained upright, arms behind him. She held his shoulder fast with one hand as the other reached between his legs.

  His erection was thick and long and impossibly hard. She began to ease him inside of her, her sex rippling as it opened to take him, inch by inch.

  “That’s it, Catie. Take all of me,” he murmured.

  She sheathed him fully inside of her, gasping his name out loud.

  “Oh God, Bat, I…” She lost the train of thought completely as he drove his hips off the floor and into her. She lowered her face against his shoulder, bit down hard on his skin.

  “Fuck, yeah, that’s…” He groaned as she kissed the spot she’d bitten and began to grind against him. “Come on, chere, ride me just like that, make us both come.”

  Their bodies were sweat-slicked. The tequila and the sex made her bold as she moved, up and down on his cock. His mouth found her nipple, tugged it between his teeth, and she wound her hands in his hair as the orgasm shot through her. Her pussy contracted hard around him and his groan was muffled against her breast as she felt him come in pulsing waves deep inside her body, just as surely as if there were no barriers between them.

  “Are you all right, Bat?”

  Catie stroked his hai
r as they lay together on the bed, the dawn just outside the window. A small breeze caught the window shade. He’d forgotten what growing up around here had been like—the way the high grass smelled after a rain, the sounds of the swamplands at night, the way his skin tingled from the heat.

  He’d carried her up the stairs after their wild tussle on the floor of the bar, and she was still warm and slightly drunk and completely loose after spending the last few hours in his arms. He’d buried himself inside her for what seemed like hours, took her over and over, while she made those beautiful noises for him. When she’d ridden him, he’d come hard enough to see stars, and still he felt his cock grow hard.

  But even so, he was coming close to brooding, and there was no way to lie to her. “I’ll live, Catie chere.”

  “They’ll investigate, find out you didn’t do anything,” she assured him.

  “The accusations are nothing new.” He rolled onto his back, stared up at the ceiling fan as if that could give him all the answers before he continued his explanation. “Wherever I go, I’m the new guy. The dangerous one. The one who’s capable of doing anything and everything. And yeah, it comes in handy most of the time. But times like this…”

  He didn’t finish, couldn’t, shook his head and turned on his side away from her. He knew she wasn’t going to let him get away with that, though—not anymore.

  Nearly three days together felt a hell of a lot longer—and in a better way than he’d thought possible.

  “Hey.” She pressed her body along his back, spooned him as she leaned up on her elbow. “This time, you’re not alone. This time, you’ve got me.”

  This time, you’ve got me.

  Catie’s breasts brushed his back, her breath fanned the back of his neck, and shit, he wanted to believe that. With other women, he could pretend he was the bad-boy loner with no past and no future, but here with Catie, she knew. Knew where he’d grown up and what he’d done when he left, and yes, some things were much easier to reveal to a stranger.