by W. Winters
“Kay,” she answers me, and then takes a swig of her own. Her nose scrunches, but she swallows. Watching her lick her lips after makes my cock harden. I have to rip my gaze away and I focus on the cracked door as a roar of cheers leaks back to us.
“Someone did something good,” she says quietly and I can hear her take another drink.
“Did you want to watch the game?” I question her, almost praying she says yes just so we’re not alone back here. Everything is her call. But damn she’s pushing me to give in with that innocent and tempting look in her eyes.
“As much as I like it out there, no, I want to play,” she gestures to the pool table. Right. I drop my head, remembering that’s why we’re back here. It’s not so I can fuck her on this sofa like I want to do. The days going slower and slower until that moment she lets me walk her home. That short amount of time is a blur, leaving me wanting and waiting in agony until I can see her again. She’s addictive. Her soft glances and gentle touches are my drug. I want more.
More than that, she wants more.
“What are we betting?”
“What do you want?” she asks me in return, the question deliberately seductive, and I have to swallow tightly, taking a long drink of my beer. I nearly finish the damn thing.
“How about, if you win, you can pick where we go next Sunday,” I offer her, knowing it’s a win for me too.
“I like here. I told you I was curious what it was like.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never been here,” I finish the beer and stand, grabbing the rack to get the game started before all the blood in my head moves to my dick and I forget about the pool game again.
Laura follows my lead, “I don’t see how you can’t believe that… as I’m not twenty-one so I shouldn’t be in a bar and this isn’t exactly my crew.”
“Crew,” I lean back, grabbing the cue and lining it up. “You don’t need to be in the crew,” I mock the way she said it, “to hang out in here. Didn’t you want a job? We need a new waitress and you don’t have to be twenty-one for that.”
She’s quiet for a moment, not answering and I would give anything to know what she’s thinking. Everyone knows The Club is our hang out and she’s right, not everyone is welcome. It’s only a bar, but it’s where all the cash is funneled so all the dirty shit we do comes out clean in the checkbook.
She finally relaxes her shoulders, letting the bottle sit on her knee to tell me, “I really love the atmosphere though. And the people… it’s nice to be around here, I guess that’s how I can put it.”
“Well, I’m glad you came.”
Just as I’m pulling back the pool stick, Laura calls out, “Uh, no. Ladies first.” She pulls at the stick from behind me, and playfully nudges my shoulder. She teases, “And to think, I thought you were a gentleman.”
I loosen my grip on the stick and when she has it fully in her grasp, I raise my hands, letting my gaze roam down her body, from the tight cream sweater to the faded pair of jeans with a hole in the knee, she looks utterly desirable. The cut on her sweater is lower than most of them. At school she’s always hidden behind baggy sweatshirts. It doesn’t escape my notice that she decided to wear a sexed up version for today’s venture. A not-date with yours truly.
“Whatever gave you the idea that I’m a gentleman… I take it back. You should know I’m practically a savage.” My joke is awarded with a sweet laugh and a complimentary blush coloring her cheeks.
Laura rests the stick against the table so she can take another sip of beer before telling me, “I may have picked up on the savage part.”
“You like the beer?” I ask her and she shrugs.
“So far I don’t hate it.”
I wait, taking my time for my next comment until she’s lined up and pulled back.
“I heard you liked something else today,” I start and watch her ass sway, her hips rocking as she teases the cue, letting the slim wood thread through her fingers as if she’s a pro with it. I’ve got a full hard on just watching her, and I might be a bastard, because I’m not ashamed of it in the least.
“What’s that?” she asks, squinting just so and ready to strike.
“Heard you told your girl Cami that you like my ass,” I confess just as she pushes her weight forward, barely hitting the cue ball and bumping into the table as well. With her mouth hung open although it comes with a smile she can’t contain. A vibrant rose colors her chest all the way up to her cheeks. The balls smack against one another, only three break away, not giving her a damn thing.
“Speechless?” I question when she doesn’t say anything, the butt of the pool cue hitting the floor as she holds it against her body.
My lips are on my beer, but my eyes stay on her as I drink.
“You’re not a savage,” she finally responds with more confidence than anything else, “You’re an ass.” She says it all with the most beautiful smile. I belt out a laugh, holding my hand out for the cue. She’s resistant, pursing her lips, but gives in, passing me the stick.
Our fingers brush one another when she does. Electricity strikes me, coursing through my arm and then down my body. It’s hot and the heat lingers long after she’s sulked back to sofa, sitting on the armrest with her arms crossed against her chest. I want to feel that all the time. The way she makes me feel with such a simple touch.
“I don’t remember saying a damn thing about your ass by the way,” she shrugs. I make my hit quick, lining up an easy pocket. Crack. I move to the other side of the table, lining up another that should break the rest of the balls up. It’s a more difficult set up, requiring a little more strength.
“Is that memory of yours selective?” I ask her and immediately pocket another ball. With the stick in my right hand, I round the table, daring to look back at her.
She’s seething, but the embarrassment, or anger, whatever’s got her panties in a bunch, is mixed with desire that’s been coming to the surface more and more with every passing day.
It’s quiet until I pull back.
“You do have a nice ass,” she mutters, and I look over my shoulder to see her shrug, bringing her beer to her lips, her eyes focused on the ass in question.
“Glad I can give you a good view,” I offer and just miss the next pocket.
Laura’s giddiness is accompanied by a squeal of “my turn” and her quickly coming up behind me, her left arm brushes against my back, her fingers dance over mine. Every touch is deliberate, seductive, and I am drowning in it. I don’t let go of the stick at once. When she tugs it, her eyes meet mine and the air sparks between us, getting hotter and lighter.
“My turn,” she whispers, and I let go, not saying a word. I back up to the other end of the sofa, memorizing every curve of her body. She calls the side pocket and with a soft touch, the ball rolls lazily into the pocket. I have to wait until her back is to me to adjust myself. I’m uncomfortably hard, my cock pressing against the zipper of my jeans.
“We didn’t come up with a bet,” she reminds me when she misses her next. We trade places with little conversation, but the heat between us is there, and when she hands me the pool stick, she hesitates, forcing me to look into her eyes and see the smoldering heat that stirs in them.
“Right,” I nod when she hits the cue, misses, and makes her way back to the other end of the sofa, handing me the pool stick. I’m still standing where I was, watching her. Instead of going back to the table, I make my way to her, planting the stick down right in front of her, both of my hands around it I ask her, “What is it that you want, Babygirl?”
Her hazel gaze drops to my lips in a heartbeat. I know it’s one heartbeat because my own pounds in my chest with lust and need.
“I can have anything?” she questions in a breathy whisper, slowly raising her gaze back to mine.
I lean in closer until my lips are only inches away from hers. “Anything you want.” The tension sizzles between us.
Her chestnut hair falls in front her, draped around her shoulders
and I reach forward to tuck a lock behind her ear. I don’t get the chance to though, Laura’s small hands reach up, grabbing onto mine. There’s desperation in her touch, want and need swirling in a deadly concoction in her eyes.
“Seth,” she tries to speak my name easily, but lust mingles with the single syllable. She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply, letting her chest rise and fall.
All I have to do is lean forward. That’s it.
But the door whips open and Derek’s voice booms in, startling Laura.
She gasps and backs away, leaning deep into the sofa as I glare at Derek.
“Oh shit, sorry,” Derek looks between the two of us. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine,” I answer but my tone notes that it’s anything but fine. Clearing my throat, I ask him, “What is it?
“We need you. Some,” he glances at Laura who looks down and away, as if she’s not listening, “information just came in.”
I know exactly what he’s referring to and it can’t wait. Fucking figures.
“I have to go,” I tell Laura rather than answering Derek. “I’ll drive you back.”
“You don’t have to,” she answers sweetly, not at all bothered that our non-date ended as quickly as it began.
“It’s not about what I have to do. Do you want me to?” I regret asking her that the moment the question slipped out. Derek’s still hear watching and my nerves are on tip toes waiting for her answer.
“Yes… please. I want you to.”
Derek butts in, responding to both of us. “We have to go that way anyway.” He speaks to Laura this time, “So even if you said no, I’m sure Seth would have insisted.” He is friendly towards her, but I can see the warning when he looks back at me, the politeness when he looks at her. He still hasn’t changed his mind.
I haven’t changed my mind either.
“I hate your fucking guts,” I mutter to Derek and he only chuckles in response. Like all of this is some joke to him. The evening sky is already black, not a star in sight and with no streetlights in Laura’s neighborhood, the only lights are from the windows lining the row of townhouses.
“No you don’t,” he finally says, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “I was surprised you brought her to The Club. Didn’t even know she was back there with you.”
Nervousness pricks down my neck. I know exactly why he wouldn’t think I’d bring her there.
“She wanted to do something this weekend. I offered to take her.”
“Of all the places?” he questions, but doesn’t say anything else as I put the car into drive and make a right, driving back to the highway.
“You kiss her yet? Or was that your first and I completely cock blocked you?”
“The latter assumption,” I answer, tightening my grip on the wheel. My palm heats talking about this with him. He’d given up all the warnings for weeks now.
“So no kiss?” he asks like it’s unbelievable.
“No kiss,” I answer him, not bothering to hide my resentment towards him for interrupting us. I’m not just taking it slow. I’m letting her lead. Which is taking a longer time than I’d hoped. It’s fucking torture but that’s what I get.
“If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”
“What are you talking about?” What sign?
“That I just happen to walk back there and stop it. You’re in too deep with her. And you know it.”
“This again?” Anger forces my muscles to coil. “I told you, it’s none of your business.
“It is because you’re my friend. My best friend. I’d give my life for you,” he stresses in a pained statement.
“I’d do the same for you and you know that,” I pause, making sure he accepts that as fact, “but she’s not up for discussion.”
“Could you even love her? Knowing that she doesn’t know.”
She’ll never know. I’ve already decided that. She will never know the truth. It’ll kill her. I won’t allow that to happen. An intense wave of protectiveness jolts through me, leaving a cold sweat to cover every inch of my skin. Having to slow down at the stop sign, I look Derek in the eyes, “There were only 5 of us in that room. They’re all dead but you and me. She will never know.”
“They could have told someone else. You don’t know.”
My head shakes in anger, denying what he’s saying. No one else knows. They can’t.
“I’m just saying, are you sure you want to go after her and not end this? It’s not too late to walk away. She’ll be alright man. I’m telling you. She’ll be fine if you walked away.”
“I’m not walking away, Derek. It’ll be best for us, if you never bring that shit up again.”
He starts to apologize, but I cut him off, easing into traffic and dropping this conversation, “I made up my mind on how this is going to happen. If anything gets in my way, or threatens to get between me and Laura, there will be hell to pay. I want her, and I’m going to have her.”
I know if she were to know the truth, she’d hate me. I’ll do everything I can to keep it a secret.
“She’s going to fall for me.” I speak out loud, wanting Derek to know it, to accept it and get the hell over his reservations.
“Are you going to be able to give her that back?” he asks in a calm even voice riddled with true concern. “Can you really fall for her, knowing what you did?”
If I were a better man, I’d keep her away because I don’t know the answer to Derek’s question. I wouldn’t dream every night for her to kiss me. He has it right. It’s selfish of me to want her to be with me.
I’m not a better man. She makes me feel like one, though. That’s why I can’t stop.
I don’t answer his question, and he doesn’t bring it up again.
All I need is Laura to kiss me. One kiss, and then I won’t hold back a damn thing anymore.
Hard to Love Prologue
Seth
On the west coast and several years before meeting the Cross brothers.
This hour of night, the floor-to-ceiling windows reveal nothing but black outside. Pitch black. Inside, though, the lights shine brightly and keep everyone in this place invigorated. The bass of the music thrums in my veins just as it lightly vibrates the hardwood floors beneath my polished oxfords.
Wrapping my hand around the steel rail that runs along the second-floor loft, with my office behind me, I watch the bright blue lights fade to nearly black in time with the beat. Bodies sway, drinks are poured, and life moves on.
My bar is the hottest spot in all of Tremont. The women, the money, all the shit that goes down in the back rooms—it’s all mine. Everyone wants in those black glass double doors. Thank fuck for that. It took nearly a year to get my name back, to get the money, both dirty and clean, flowing easily without someone wanting me dead along the way.
A year of recovering from the damage that was done.
A year without her.
A year cleaning up the mess and taking care of shit that nearly broke me. Between all the fights and all the drugs, none of it compares to what happened last year. Two days until the date.
A gruff exhale leaves me as I force away the memories and focus on what’s in front of me. The perfect location, the perfect setup. The perfect fucking life I’ve been building.
The name of the bar mirrors every inch of what’s inside. Allure. It’s designed to lure in customers and to keep the drinks flowing, the hips moving, and the money streaming in. The bar is seductive with polished black marble waterfall counters that gleam, their shine visible from all the way up here. The deep cobalt velvet sofas on opposite sides of the seating area are just as enticing as the women who perch themselves there with crystal glasses containing pink cocktails in their manicured hands as they let out peals of feminine laughter. Black crystal chandeliers drip from the ceilings.
Club Allure is about escaping from reality via luxury and illusions of grandeur.
The basement though… and the back rooms… those are the rea
l moneymakers, all of it under the table, and how I earned the fear and respect that comes with my name.
It’s also what led to enemies. You haven’t made it in this world until someone tries to take what’s yours. Until someone wants to challenge you. Until someone wants you dead.
I learned that hard lesson a year ago. And the ones who came for me? Their deaths didn’t go unnoticed by anyone else who thought they could take from me.
An eerie prick travels down my spine as my mind wanders to places in the past. Back to when I was a different man. Things change when the ones you love the most leave you. Just as I think about everything that happened before this, just as the memories invade the present, I swear I hear her voice.
It’s only a memory. She’s only a memory. I remind myself like I’ve done so many silent nights, only to have my gaze drawn to the sound again.
The crowd doesn’t part for her; she blends into it, which is what she always wanted.
I see her though, and everyone else blurs as I focus on her alone.
My grip tightens on the rail and everything pauses around me. My blood runs scorching hot. Her dark brunette hair cascades down to her lower back. In distressed dark denim shorts and a silk cream tank top that hangs low on her back, she makes her way straight to the bar. I watch as the corners of her lips turn up at recognizing the two men behind the bar. They’ve been my crew since the first day… she was there too.
She was always there, always a part of us.
Connor sees her first, dropping the empty glass he’s holding on the counter to reach across the bar. When he calls out, “Babygirl,” Roman looks up from the set of four shots he’s pouring and grins at her.
It’s too loud on this floor to make out everything they’re saying. It’s all smiles and hugs, though. Warm, friendly greetings. It steals any heat I had and leaves a chill to settle over my shoulders, slowly wrapping its way around me as the time ticks away.