The sight of her pouty lips tantalizing me was causing me more discomfort than I would have liked. She walked around to my side of the table, and it was the first time I caught her scent. How was this little choir girl causing me more stirring with just her lips, emerald green eyes, and scent than any one of my professional ladies?
I broke out of my trance as she continued teasing me.
“Well, the commission would have been nice,” was all she added, but I got the message. I’d screwed up her day, and now she was going to screw up mine.
I would rather she just screwed me.
Every time she leaned across the table to aim for a shot, her sweater rose just enough for me to see the outline of her sweet ass. I wished she would hurry and win, take my money, and I could leave with my tail between his legs. That was what my fucking dick was feeling like—a gigantic tail between my legs.
True to her word, my little choir girl cleaned the table and made the final shot. Her brother walked over and handed her the money. He leaned in and kissed her cheek again. “Good job, sis.” He nodded to her other two brothers and they headed toward the door. “Gotta go, Katie. Want a lift?”
“I’m fine. I’ll catch you guys next visit.” He leaned in so she could kiss him on the cheek. She walked over to the other two and did the same as she whispered something into one brother’s ear. She almost looked sad as they left. Where were they going? She said ‘see them next visit.’ They didn't live here?
It didn't matter. My fun with my little choir girl was over. She would go home, and I was going to have one more beer and head back to my apartment. I sat at the bar and ordered a beer.
“Make that two,” I heard my little choir girl say. “It’s the least I can do for playing you for a chump.” Her laughed resonated, and my cock twitched.
What the hell was she doing? I was done playing with her. She needed to take her tight little ass off the barstool beside me before my other head got any ideas.
Chapter 4
Katie
As I looked in the full-length mirror on the closet door, I admired the way my skinny jeans fit into my too-high boots. My brother Braden hated those boots. He called them ‘come fuck me’ boots and ordered me to throw them out. I usually avoided wearing them when he was in town, but tonight, I didn’t care. He was going to have to learn to not be so overprotective.
Moving into Haley’s old house was a start. At least I wouldn’t be under his scrutiny every time I went out. Even Gabriel and Liam had taken to bringing friends here to my house and using the spare room. While cleaning one day, I had found boxes of condoms left in the nightstand in the spare room. I was going to throw them out but thought better of it. At least they were being careful. They were also very discreet.
I sighed with disappointment as I lay back on the bed and forced up the zipper of my jeans. I had been eating my feelings since my father passed six months ago and it was beginning to affect my wardrobe. If I wore my long sweater over the top, no one would see that my jeans fit like they had been painted on.
I took my hair out of its constricting bun, greased my palms with pomade, and ran my fingers through my hair, adding some bounce to my curls. I washed off all my makeup and applied a little moisturizer. I didn’t need makeup. I had flawless skin that glowed without any help from store-bought products.
It was a nice night, and Uncle Andy’s pub was close enough for me to walk. I noted that my brothers had already arrived and secured a pool table, and they had already bought me a beer. I didn't drink alcohol—I only drank non-alcoholic beer.
“Hello, boys,” I greeted my brothers. “Are you ready to lose your wallets?” Braden gave me a death glare when he eyed my boots.
“I thought I threw those out?” he growled.
“You did, and I fished them out of the trash and brought them with me when I moved.” I was not going to cower to Braden, not tonight. I had already dealt with one overbearing ass today.
“Rough day?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, my one pm VIP, Mr. Walsh, turned out to be a Very Insignificant Prick.”
“I saw you missed communion,” Braden scolded.
“Yes,” I glared back at him. “I needed the time to get ready for the appointment. ” I let my frustration with my overprotective brother show. “I don’t get it. You know what a big deal it was to work on Sunday, right?” I took a swig of my beer. “This guy comes in to ask for the Boardroom and Beyonds and doesn't even want to try them on.”
I must have been more upset about it then I’d originally thought. I had already cleared the table with Liam and was now taking on Gabriel. “Then, he says he is only going to wear them once. Once!” I repeated loudly.
“What size?” Liam asked.
I stared him down. “What does it matter?”
“Katie, those shoes are worth a small ransom, and I’m not afraid to do a little dumpster diving.” A wide grin crossed his face. I found myself laughing out loud for the first time that day and I didn’t care who heard me.
“Size fourteen—sorry, Liam,” I teased. “Besides, tomorrow I am going to ask Leona what the deal is.” I stomped over to Braden. “What’s that twitch, Braden?”
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” he deflected.
“Yes, you do. Every time I mention my boss, you get this twitch in your jaw. Don’t deny it.” I stood my ground.
“You spent all this money on design school, and now you’re back to selling shoes. If you need money, you should be working with us,” he griped.
“Working in The Boutique is part of the internship program. It’s good for me to see how things work, so when I get my designs into the store, I will know why they will or will not suck.” I stomped back to the pool table.
With both of our parents having passed, it was only the four of us. Braden ran a tight ship at the security firm and my brothers were always away on what Braden called assignments. Braden often argued with me about paying rent for some place when I could live at home for free. They were hardly ever there. It was when they were there that made living with my overprotective brother’s difficult.
“Well, boys, looks like I cleaned house again.“ As I put my hand on the money sitting on the edge of the pool table. I felt a warm jolt of electricity run up my arm as someone placed their hand on top of mine.
“Aaron.” His name fell silently off my lips
“I don’t think I have been challenged yet.” His voice was gravelly and rough. Not the smooth talking man I had met earlier.
My brothers immediately circled the wagons. Did ‘Mr. I Don’t Need to Try Them On’ think he could beat me at pool?
“Mr. Walsh,” I pulled my hand out from under his. “You fancy yourself a pool player, do you?” He had soft hands, but not a feminine, over-manicured soft like I was used to with my summer romances. No, his hands were all male, and they gave me a slight shock—like static on a carpet.
Did Braden actually growl at him? Good Lord, he was never going to let me grow up.
‘It’s okay, boys, I got this.” I laughed. “I’ll take your challenge, Mr. Walsh.” I explained the rules to him, but he seemed a little put off, like he didn’t think I was serious. I would show him just how serious I was.
“Braden here will hold the money. You are good for it, aren't you, Mr. Walsh?” If I couldn't get his money on the commission, I would certainly take it now.
“Clean house with this one, sis,” Braden encouraged me. Despite how overbearing he could be, he also respected my decision to be independent.
“Your brother?”
“All three of them,” I bragged. I was proud of my brothers.
“They’re so big, and you’re…”
I knew where this conversation was going. I got it all the time. I might as well tell him what he was already thinking. “So little,” I finished his sentence.
“I was going to say petite, but yeah, let’s go with little.” He pointed to Braden. “And why did that one snarl at me?”
>
“You see, I had this VIP customer today. On a Sunday. We never open Sunday. Not for anyone… ever.”
“Wait, never?” I sensed he had no idea how big a deal this was. To be open Sunday.
“No, never, ever, except today for some reason.” I took another shot. He was beginning to understand my plight. I had come in and expected compensation, and he did not comply. I worked my way across the table, landing ball after ball. I was going to take his money today anyway, and I was going to have fun doing it. “You can imagine my excitement. This must be one hell of a customer for Mrs. Van de Graaf to allow anyone in on Sunday.” I paused and took another shot.
I swept past him, my ass in the painted-on jeans barely contacting his crotch as I moved in for my next shot. God, he smelled good. He hadn’t overdone the cologne like some of the young men I had dated. He smelled natural, clean… delicious. My jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight. The seam rubbed across my clit when I reached for the balls, almost causing me to lose concentration. I needed to clear the table, take his money, and find a comfortable bar stool.
Mission accomplished. Braden handed me the money, and I saw my brothers off. They were on assignment but needed a few days off to regroup and continue their mission with some help from another team they’d called in on a favor.
I knew too much about what my brother’s did. And at times not enough. It was the nature of running a security business. As much as I could work for my Braden, I wanted to carve out something that was my own. I kissed them each goodbye on the cheek and whispered to Gabriel to be careful.
I arrived at the bar in time to hear Aaron ordering a beer. “Make that two. It’s the least I can do for playing you for a chump.” I laughed, “Mr. Walsh, I think we got off on the wrong foot—may I call you Aaron?”
“May I call you Katie, Miss Steele?” He was smooth, but I promised myself just one more drink and then I needed to leave.
I put out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Aaron. Thanks, Anne.” I nodded when our beers came—his in a glass and mine another non-alcoholic bottle.
“Cheers.” I clinked my bottle to his glass.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, and finally I broke the ice. “My brother Liam wants to know when you are going to throw out your shoes so he can go dumpster diving.”
I snorted a laughed when Aaron almost spit out his beer.
“Would he really dumpster dive?” Aaron’s face softened, and I noticed his amber eyes. They glowed and reminded me of a wolf. Was Mr. bad-boy Aaron Walsh a wolf in sheep's clothing? If so, it was very well-fitting clothing. I took in the way his T-shirt stretched across his chest and licked my lips. It draped over his muscular arms and rock hard abs. I had noticed this at the shop.
The other thing I had noticed at the shop was the fact that I was not going to make any extra commission. Maybe if I had focused on the man and not the dollar signs, I would have been nicer. Too late for that now. All I could do now was be polite, finish my drink, and let him be.
I answered his question. “For a pair of shoes like those, Liam would certainly go digging through the garbage. He fancies himself a ladies’ man, and those would go a long way toward impressing the ladies.”
The longer I sat talking to Aaron, the more aroused I became. This was not happening, I thought. I didn’t do one-night stands. I did summer romances with the single men who came to vacation with their parents and then left at the end of the summer.
I didn’t want to sleep with someone and then have them come into the shop or run into them in town. Of course, I also didn’t do long term relationships. Summer romances were uncomplicated. I hated complications.
“Aaron, why did you need those shoes today? Why couldn't it wait until tomorrow?” I was curious.
“I have a meeting tomorrow morning, and I was encouraged to walk in wearing a pair of those shoes.” He didn't elaborate.
“You don't come off as the type who does what you're told.” I laughed nervously.
“This is different—it’s complicated.” Aaron brought the beer to his lips and took a sip.
“How old are you, Katie?”
I knew he was going to ask eventually. They all asked—eventually.
“Twenty-five,” I answered sweetly.
“No, truthfully, how old are you?” His tone made it clear he was not amused.
“Twenty-two.” I answered honestly this time. “How old are you, Aaron?”
“Twenty-nine.”
I brought my hands to my mouth in shock. “Oh, my God, you’re old enough to be my… my brother.” I removed my hand and laughed. “I get it. I look like jailbait, but don’t worry, Mr. Walsh. I don’t do one-night stands. I’m not going to invite you to take me home.” I was sure the disappointment in my voice was apparent, but better he know straight out.
I reached for my purse from where it was stashed behind the bar. It was time for me to leave. I did not do complicated, and Mr. Aaron Walsh had complicated written all over him. Then again, he was just passing through. It wasn't like I would be running into him around town.
I shook my head in an effort to banish the thought from my mind. Was I so deprived of sex that I was actually considering a one-night stand with Mr. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing?
Of course I wasn't. Just passing through or not, Aaron Walsh was out of my league. He no doubt dated models and actresses, not shoe clerks from some obscure small town. I wasn't a virgin, but I was no way as experienced as the women he probably dated—that I was sure of. If he really was a size fourteen, by God, he would split my petite frame in two. I would say my goodbyes and head home.
I held out my hand. “Goodnight, Mr. Walsh. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Aaron took my hand and kissed the back of it like a chivalrous knight. I was right. He was a shot of whiskey. His lips burned, and I felt it all the way to the tips of my toes—toes that were curling in my boots.
“Goodnight, kitten,” he casually drawled, his amber eyes laughing at me, and I felt a gush of wetness between the legs of my too-tight jeans. I might have just had my first orgasm with him, and it hadn’t involved sex.
Well, not conventional sex. Aaron Walsh oozed sex, and with me already on edge, I felt justified that any normal woman would have reacted the same way.
He opened his wallet to pay for his meal and Anne stopped him. “I think you got cleaned out enough for one night. Have a good one, handsome.” She nodded towards me. “Goodnight, sweetie. Remember, we always have a place for you at the Thanksgiving table if the boys don't make it home, all right?”
“Thanks, Anne. I will let you know.” I grabbed my coat and left. I became aware that Aaron had followed me out. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and froze in my tracks.
“Katie, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Aaron’s voice cracked.
Chapter 5
Aaron
I was concerned. Katie had stopped so suddenly that I’d practically knocked her over. What could have scared her to the point of freezing her in place? I grasped her arm, afraid she might topple over.
“Katie, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Katie pointed to a bike parked in front of the bar. “Is that the Harley Street Glide with the 107cc Milwaukee-Eight, custom rims, and saddlebags?” The words slid off her lips as a slow sensual groan. She walked over to the bike and stroked the leather seat with her fingertips. “What else?” she asked, excitement in her voice. “Come on, tell me. What else is customized?”
“How do you know this is my bike?” I asked, looking amused. I was not expecting this from my little kitten. She was practically purring.
Katie eyed me up and down. “Classic leather jacket, worn out biker boots, an attitude that screams bad boy, and,” she pointed to my helmet, “seriously?”
“Attitude that screams bad boy?” I asked, feigning hurt. I knew I did. I just didn't like the way she made it sound like a bad thing.
“Please, you scream bad boy li
ke I scream jailbait.” She was mocking me, standing with her hands on her hips and smirking.
I conceded and walked over to the bike. “Okay, okay… I had a GPS installed and the seats are Corinthian leather. They withstand the cold better—less cracking.”
I practically exploded in my jeans as she grazed her fingers across the seat again and licked her lips. She asked about the oil-cooled cylinder heads and classic 45-degree V Twin cylinder angle. This little kitten knew her bikes.
“Have you ever ridden one?” I regretted the question the minute it left my lips. Of course she wouldn’t have ridden one. The bike had cost a fortune, and I doubted any dealership would let her take one out for a test drive.
She laughed at me. “I might come off as tough,” she shrugged in a teasing manner, “but I really don't have the strength to hold up one of these bad boys.” She sighed. “I guess it makes sense. What else would the country's biggest multi-millionaire corporate raider bad boy ride?”
I raised a questioning eyebrow and she shrugged. “I Googled you after you left. If I was going to have to explain to my boss why I was rude to our VIP, I wanted to know who I was rude to.”
She didn't apologize for being rude, although she’d just admitted to it. She wasn't the only one who had been rude. I hadn’t exactly been courteous myself. I felt bad for having given her a hard time.
“If anyone should be apologizing for being rude, it should be me. I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“Good posture is an asset, I’ll have you know. Let’s call it a draw, and the only explaining I’ll have to do is why I couldn't fleece you for the add-ons.” She was a persnippity little kitten, I thought.
She walked away from the bike and looked over her shoulder at me. “Goodnight, Aaron,” she said with a pout. One look at her full lips, and my better judgement escaped my head.
“You may not be big enough to ride one alone, but I’ll bet you’re little enough to ride on the back of one. Give me your address, kitten, and I’ll give you a ride home.” I hoped I would not regret this decision later.
Bastard Heir (The Heirs Book 3) Page 3