by J. S. Scott
It was getting later, and the crowd in the small bar was thinning. It was Wednesday, a typically slow night anyway. She wiped down the bar, smiling at several of the patrons she knew, making drink orders in between her cleanup.
She hadn’t told anyone at Sully’s about her breakup with Rick. She’d never had an engagement ring because Rick had never had the extra money, so it wasn’t like Tina or any of the other ladies here at Sully’s had any physical indication that anything had happened. And it was too humiliating to share the fact that her fiancé had been screwing another woman in their bed. She’d kept her problems to herself, coming to work here every evening and just doing her job.
The only person she had confided in was Travis.
“Happy Birthday, Ally!” Charlie Sullivan, a big bear of man with reddish hair and a booming voice, came out of the back room, carrying a tray of drinks.
“What’s this?” Ally asked, puzzled. Tomorrow was her birthday, but she hardly wanted to be reminded that she was turning twenty-eight years old, and no longer had a life plan of any kind.
Her middle-aged boss patted her on the back as he brought the drinks to an empty table. “You told me just the other day that even though you make these drinks, you’ve never tried any of them. I think you need a little birthday surprise. Time to try out something new.”
“I have to work tomorrow. And I have to drive home.” She gave Charlie a dubious look. She didn’t care for beer, and she did have an occasional glass of wine, but that was the limits of her experience with alcohol. Having been the only child of an alcoholic, she didn’t experiment much with booze. Maybe it was a bit odd that she was a bartender and yet had never been drunk. But she never had the time to breathe, much less be laid up with a hangover.
“I’ll take you home,” Charlie replied, taking her by the arm and leading her around from behind the bar.
“Come on, Ally,” Tina, one of the waitresses, encouraged as she sidled up to the table. “Live a little. Try a few.”
“I’m not completely done with my cleanup,” Ally protested laughingly as Charlie brought her over to the table.
“I’ll clean up. And make any drinks that need to be served. Try out your instructor’s concoctions,” Charlie encouraged.
Ally looked down at the tray of drinks, and then around the bar. There were only a few regulars, and they had already crowded around the table, patting her on the back and hooting for her to celebrate her birthday.
The tray consisted of almost all Blow Jobs, a drink that she’d made about a thousand times, and watched women consume with great relish every single weekend. Charlie had piled the whipped cream on the shot glasses high, which would make it almost impossible for her not to make a mess.
Live a little.
Really, Ally had never really lived, never did one thing that wasn’t carefully planned. Would it really hurt to try to have a little fun just once, laugh with a few friends? It wasn’t like she was going to become an alcoholic like her mother just from having a few drinks. Tomorrow was her birthday, and she’d be spending the entire day taking shit from Travis.
Do it, Ally. For once in your life, do something spontaneous. It’s a special occasion.
“Oh hell, why not?” she conceded, reaching for one of the shot glasses.
“Oh, no,” Tina said laughingly, playfully slapping Ally’s hand. “You have to do it the right way.”
Ally groaned, but compliantly put her hands behind her back when Charlie positioned them for her. She’d just try it once. Tina put the drink on a napkin on the table.
Ally had seen this done by other women often, but they made it look much easier than it actually was. Opening her mouth wide, she felt the burst of silky sweetness hit her taste buds and closed her lips around the rim of the shot glass. Unfortunately, the drink slipped and she only downed about half of it, the rest falling down the front of her t-shirt as the glass shot out of her mouth and to the floor.
Everyone groaned, and then laughed uproariously, encouraging her to try again. Tina came forward and gave her instructions on the fine art of doing Blow Jobs, and Ally tried again, getting the entire thing down this time. It was sweet, smooth, and went down easily, the taste delicious. She licked the cream off her mouth and went for just one more.
“Ally, if you’re going to do a blow job, you have to do it right. Tip your head back farther and swallow.”
Travis stopped in his tracks, his whole body freezing as he heard that booming comment from outside the small bar. His hand tightened on the doorknob until his knuckles were white.
Ally? Blow jobs? Swallowing? Holy fuck, no!
Travis felt his anger rising to the surface, something that almost never happened. He rarely let it get that far before stuffing it back inside him, except for his normal disagreements with Ally. But it wasn’t the same kind of anger; it was the much more dangerous kind. His stomach rolled at the thought of what he might find when he stepped inside, and he was suddenly feeling homicidal at the thought of Ally touching anyone in that way—or any way at all.
He heard several men laughing and one female voice that didn’t belong to Ally. What in the hell? Were they having a bar orgy?
Travis put all of his weight against the door as he turned the knob, the forward motion propelling him into the one-room tavern. There, in the middle of the room, was Ally. There was a man holding her hands behind her back, and Ally had her head tilted backward so far Travis was surprised her neck didn’t snap. One woman and several men stood around the table, all of them smiling.
Bastards!
“What in the hell are you doing?” Travis bellowed, causing Ally’s head to snap forward, and a shot glass to pop out of her mouth. Judging by the amount of empty glasses already on the table, it wasn’t the first.
Ally eyed him in horror, her tongue snaking out to catch white cream from her lips.
Anger was pulsating in waves from Travis as he growled, “Take your fucking hands off her or I’ll break every finger you’ve got.” Seeing the man, any man, handling Ally made him lose control. And the fact that he was holding Ally in a submissive position nearly had him jumping on top of the guy and pounding the hell out of him.
The older man backed away from her. “Look, man, I’m not looking for a fight. Ally’s my employee. We were just celebrating her birthday.”
“They’re all friends,” Ally confirmed, licking at her lips again.
“This your guy, Ally?” the older man asked, looking toward Ally.
“No,” Ally replied, moving over to Travis. “What are you doing here?” she whispered anxiously.
“I’m Travis Harrison. And she’s my employee, too.” Now why in the hell had he said that? He hated telling people who he was. There were very few people who wouldn’t recognize the name. He looked down at Ally with a scowl. “Are you sure they weren’t hurting you?”
“Totally sure,” she replied, her green eyes slightly glassy.
It was the only answer that kept Travis from beating the hell out of all the men. “Are you drunk?” he asked, surprised.
She covered her mouth and hiccupped. “I think I might be a little tipsy. I don’t usually drink.”
“I’m taking her home. She’s not driving,” the older man who’d been holding Ally’s hands behind her back added.
Only in your fucking dreams, man. Travis shot the auburn-haired guy a warning look. “I’m taking her home,” he informed everyone, his tone daring them to argue. There was no way he was letting anybody near her right now. She was too damn vulnerable in her condition.
Ally put a hand on his arm, and he looked down into her liquid emerald eyes, and then raked her entire body with his gaze. The tank top she was wearing was thin and wet, and he could see the outline of her nipples through the skimpy, low-cut top and obviously damp bra. She had on jeans and sneakers, and he noticed for the first time that her hair was down, the mass of blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders.
“I was just doing Blow Jobs. I’ve neve
r done them before. Would you like a Blow Job?” Ally asked him, licking her lips again.
Travis almost came in his jeans. Ally was definitely a little beyond tipsy, and had no idea what she was saying. There was no guile on her face, no seductive expression. She was simply offering him a drink because she was in an inebriated daze. But Christ, hearing those words from her lips was one of his horniest fantasies, and watching her flick her tongue to keep licking her sticky, full lips was nearly killing him.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Time to go home, Alison.”
“Wait.” She pulled her hand from his and turned to Charlie. “Thanks, Charlie. I had…fun.”
Charlie grabbed her purse from under the bar and handed it to her. “Have a good birthday, Ally,” he said sincerely.
Travis grabbed her hand, watching her wave happily at the remaining people in the bar as he dragged her out the door.
“Guess you didn’t want a Blow Job. They’re actually really good,” Ally told him cheerfully as they exited the bar.
“For Christ’s sake…stop saying that, Alison.” Travis tried to sound calm, tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. If she asked him about that one more time, his cock was definitely going to detonate.
He got her to the car and strapped her into the seat, before moving around to the driver’s side. Tomorrow, they were going to have a very serious talk about her safety. Or maybe there would be no talk…just action. That was what he was good at, and he planned on making certain that Ally was okay from now on. Obviously no one else seemed to worry about her, and her dickhead fiancé had never cared.
Travis knew her parents were both dead, and that she had no siblings. Her father had died when she was very young, and her mother had passed away soon after she had started college. No wonder she had been ripe for the first asshole who had promised her forever. She’d been easy pickings for a hustler like her ex, probably still grieving and alone. Not that she had shared those things with him. Most of her history he’d learned from Kade, and for some reason, that completely pissed him off.
Maybe she talks to Kade because he isn’t an asshole to her like I am.
Travis drove Ally home, saying very little except to get directions to her house. He was afraid that if he said anything, he would definitely lose control. There was no forgetting that moment when he’d seen her with her hands being held behind her back by some other guy. His protective instincts had flared, and he’d been ready to throttle the bastard just for touching Ally, even though the situation had been mostly innocent. He hadn’t reasoned, hadn’t thought anything through…he’d just reacted. Things didn’t work that way for him, not usually. He was a planner, a thinker, weighing the risks and benefits of every action. And he never, ever did anything remotely emotional or scandalous.
“Why did you come to the bar tonight?” Ally asked quietly, sounding more lucid; clearly, the drive home had sobered her up a little. “I know it’s definitely not one of your usual hangouts.”
“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” Travis answered honestly as he pulled into Ally’s driveway.
“Is it because I nearly had a meltdown in your office earlier?”
No. It really wasn’t. He’d done it because he hadn’t been able to stay away after he’d realized exactly what her situation was in life right now. How could he explain that he suddenly wanted to protect her, fix things for her, in addition to the fact that he was dying to fuck her? He didn’t even understand it himself. But he answered, “Yes.” It was the easiest excuse.
“I’ll be okay.”
Fuck! Her voice sounded tentative and vulnerable, and Travis had all he could do not to find her ex and kill the son of a bitch. He’d screwed Ally over, and left her all alone, in a bad situation, after she’d given him everything. Didn’t the asshole know just how valuable that kind of devotion was from a woman? Did he even care? “I know you’ll be fine,” Travis said gruffly. He planned on making damn sure she was from now on.
Ally seemed steadier as he helped her out of the car. She ran her hand lovingly over the hood of his Ferrari. “Well, it least I got to ride in one of your expensive cars,” she said jokingly. “This one is beautiful.”
“It isn’t that expensive compared to some of my other ones at the track,” he admitted. “But I like it for casual driving.”
Ally’s delighted laughter flowed over Travis like a balm to his soul.
“I’d kill to drive this F12, and you’re talking about it like it’s a cheap family car.” Ally snorted.
Travis felt the edges of his mouth start to tug. “I just got a Hennessey today. I was testing it out before I came to see you.”
Travis actually did smile when he heard Ally gasp as she said, “A Venom GT?”
“Yes,” he answered, surprised that Ally knew so much about cars. “You know your vehicles.”
“I grew up in Daytona Beach. I worked the concessions at the raceway in high school. It would have been hard not to learn something about fast cars,” she answered, amused. “I still pay attention.”
“I’ve driven that track more than once,” Travis told her as he walked her to the door.
“I know,” Ally answered, digging her keys out of her purse. “Do you ever regret it, giving up a professional career as a driver?”
Travis shook his head. “No. I like running Harrison. I think if racing had become my full-time profession, it wouldn’t be fun anymore.” Harrison Corporation was who he was, and he would never let it be put in the hands of someone else to manage it while he was out racing cars.
Travis took the keychain out of her hand when she had problems getting the key in the door. She might be less drunk, but she wasn’t completely sober either. He opened the door, handing her back her keys. She’d flipped on the lights, and Travis’s covetous gaze feasted on the sight of her. Her eyes were still bright, but she was looking at him intently, as though she’d never seen him before. Her gaze moved over his entire body boldly, landing on his lips with a look of longing.
“Would you kiss me?” she asked him hesitantly, her stare still intent on his lips.
Travis stared right back at her, wanting to tell her she was the most kissable, fuckable woman on the planet. He wanted to devour her mouth more than he wanted anything else in the world right at that moment. But he made himself white-knuckle the doorframe to keep himself from touching her. “You’re not in your right mind, Alison. You don’t know what you want right now. Take a couple of aspirin and go to bed.” Holy shit…that hurt. Travis had nearly gagged on the words, wanting something else completely, but he was unwilling to take advantage of Ally when she’d had a few drinks. This situation made him even harder than when she’d offered him a Blow Job, probably because she kind of knew what she was asking for this time. She was asking for him.
Her gaze left his mouth and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked.”
He sure as fuck hoped it was because she wanted him, even if it was just a little. “Close the door and lock it.” He wasn’t budging until he heard the deadbolt put in place. He needed to leave, get the hell away from her before he changed his mind.
She nodded, starting to swing the door closed, her eyes not meeting his.
“Alison?” he said quickly before she closed the door.
She paused. “Yes?”
Don’t kiss her. Don’t take advantage of her. You’ll hate yourself later.
Travis gripped the wood a little harder. “I’ll pick you up around eight in the morning and send someone to get your car.” He pushed himself away from the door frame so she could close the door. “And if you’re feeling okay, I’ll let you drive the F12 in the morning.”
“You will?” she asked, sounding shocked.
Travis shrugged. It was just a car. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do if he could just get her to smile at him. “It’s your birthday,” he used as an explanation for his actions, knowing he’d let her do it anyway just b
ecause she wanted to. “Now lock up,” he demanded.
Ally closed the door obediently, and the tumbler on the deadbolt flipped immediately.
Good girl.
Travis’s heart was still racing as he walked back to his car, got in, and started the ignition. He leaned his head against the steering wheel for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Jesus! Not touching Ally tonight had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He wanted her badly, but not that way. He needed her warm and willing, aware of everything that was happening. And maybe there was a small part of him that didn’t want her to have any regrets, didn’t want her to hate him because he took advantage. His instinct to protect her was just as strong as his desire to fuck her, and that was saying a hell of a lot, because that yearning was damn near killing him.
He already knew what his dreams would look like tonight. There was no way he wouldn’t be dreaming vividly about Ally asking him if he wanted a blow job, licking those luscious lips as she uttered the words every man in the world wanted to hear from a woman he wanted. And in his dreams, Travis would never refuse to kiss her. Hell, he’d probably have a damn heart attack and die in his sleep when he answered her differently, did exactly what he’d wanted to do earlier when she uttered those requests in his dreams tonight.
Travis waited until the lights went on upstairs before he backed out of the driveway and drove away, wondering when in the hell he’d actually developed a conscience, and hating himself because when it came to Ally…he actually had one.
Ally woke up late the next morning, with barely thirty minutes to get ready for work. She hadn’t wanted to drag her butt out of bed, and she wasn’t certain whether it was really the alcohol she’d consumed the night before, or the fact that she was going to have to face Travis.
Oh God, did I really ask him to kiss me?