Page 49 of Lying Hearts

Chapter Thirty-One

Annie

Mind: blown, with pieces caught in my hair, on my clothes, and in the rubber mats under my feet. What the fuck just happened.

Ifinish the ledger and slide it into a drawer, struggling to accept that this night isn’t a dream. It has to be. “Of course you love it. All men love AC/DC.”

“That’s because all men have good taste,” he throws back.

“I disagree with that.” I grab a clean towel, dunk it in the sink, wring it out and wipe the bar counter down as we talk. Many, many times, I steal looks at him, watching him picking up those chairs with his muscles tensing each and every delicious time.

“That’s because you women don’t get the genius. Women hate AC/DC.”

His smile is challenging, and it stirs up my competitive streak. “See, now that’s bullshit.”

His eyebrows fly up.

“Is that so? Bullshit, you say?”

I make a pffth sound and nod, moving the pile of napkins over so I can get under them. “Total bullshit. We don’t like AC/DC because most of us mistakenly believe that there was only one singer, not knowing that Bon Scott died in his own vomit, thereby leaving the band to have to settle for the screaming fuckhead who took over. It’s the screaming fuckhead we don’t like!”

“Because who would like a screaming fuckhead.” He’s stealing glances at me, too, but I’m too caught up in my argument to notice.

“Yeah! When women – any woman I’ve ever made listen to them – when they hear Live Wire, amazing. Dirty Deeds, priceless. It’s A Long Way To The Top? Awesome. And they’re confused, thinking, hey this is pretty funny stuff. But it’s AC/DC so they blow it off and discount it, because they are forced to stick to their guns and think men just love that screaming fuckhead and Lord only knows why.” I grab the condiment tray and almost spill out the olives when I see his face. “What?”

He puts down the chair he’s holding, and crooks a finger my way. “Come here.”

Oh, shit. Am I in trouble? I walk around the bar to him, and as I meet his eyes again I see that the only trouble I’m going to have is keeping him out of my pants. In other words, none. He’s looking at me like I’m meat and he hasn’t eaten for two years. I stop just short of climbing onto him without further ado. “Yes?”

“You’re too far away.” He pulls me in to him. “And you’re wrong about AC/DC.”

“I’m not.” He smiles, and shakes his head briefly. I gaze up at him as he ebbs closer.

“You make a very compelling argument but you’re wrong.”

I close my eyes and say on a whisper, “Back In Black is a screeching disaster.”

His eyes dance. “You’re very, very wrong.”

He kisses me, opening my mouth with his. The soft tip of his tongue touches mine and we move on each other. My fingers languidly slip into his wavy hair. His hands travel up my back and he firmly pulls me in as close as he can, our bodies becoming smashed. He’s growing hard against me, the strength of him so powerful. Our kiss moves faster, until we’re gasping and urgent. I want to dissolve every moment we’ve ever been apart. I want to give myself to him. Every cell. Every pulse.

“Wait. Wait.” I say on a gasp, pulling away. “Not in front of the window. It’s my business and I…”

“Of course. You’re right.”

“So move me out of sight already.”

He laughs. “Oh.” Picking me up in a standing position, my feet slightly off the ground. I feel the wall come up against my back as our mouths move on each other and he sets me down. Reluctantly, he pulls away to look to the window, check to see if we’re hidden. We both glance over. All clear. He mutters against my lips, “If we can’t see it, then it can’t see us.”

He pushes me hard up against the wall. His hands fluidly move down my body and back up to hold my breasts, cupping and massaging them while we kiss. With tantalizing slowness, he nibbles down my neck. I close my eyes, losing myself to the feelings, aching for him. Through the halter fabric he flicks my nipples with his thumbs, bites me, tugs on my neck, pulling it between his lips. He’s the man and I’m the woman. He wants me to know and I want nothing else. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. My leg wraps around him to press against the bulge in his pants. His fingers slip behind me, down inside the back of my jeans and under the wisp of lacey fabric below. He presses hard into the flesh of my ass, massaging me in time with kisses as he takes my mouth again in his.

Suddenly he pulls back to look at me, eyes hooded. His hungry smile fades quickly. He searches me. I stare back at him, my breaths shortened now. “What? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something familiar about you.”

No! Not now! You can’t recognize me now!

I shake my head. “I’d remember you.”

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