Page 12 of Butcher

He studied me. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

“No.”

“Then you should know, I plan to have your thighs wrapped around my head by the end of the night.”

“You- Well, okay,” I muttered, downing more of my drink. It was the last thing I needed, just stoking the flames he was creating within me, but my damn mouth had gone dry at his words. “And what if I told you that wasn’t going to happen?”

He shot me a grin. “Want to bet on it?”

“What’re the stakes,” I asked, suspicious, but too intrigued to put a stop to it.

“I win, we fuck.”

I chuckled in disbelief. This guy was something else. “And if I win?” Somewhere along the line I’d turned to face him. Our knees were brushing and even that little bit of contact made my heart race. This was so dumb. I wasn’t in grade school dealing with my first crush. But man, did talking to him appeal to me.

“What do you want?” he asked.

I licked my lips, fully aware that his eyes tracked the movement of my tongue. “Maybe I’d want you to take me out on a proper date.”

His eyes met mine again. For just a moment there was a flash of confusion and, could it be, fear? He quickly rallied though. “Done.”

I didn’t want a date. I just needed him to think I was interested inmore than sex. So he wouldn’t be suspicious of how easy this was.Liar.I ignored that little voice in my head. Something told me he probably wouldn’t question it if I told him to take me somewhere so we could fuck now. I’d be willing to bet it happened often enough to him that he wouldn’t question it, but that was just a bit too easy forme. The perverse side of me wanted to play a little before I killed him. And there was a part of me that actually kind of liked him now that I’d spoken to him. He was funny. I didn’t meet nearly enough people in my line of work. Who stayed alive anyway.

“What’s the game?” I asked. I eyed the pool table. There were also dart boards in the back.

“We go shot for shot.”

I focused back on him then down at the bottle. The fact that he was drinking straight from it rather than a glass told me he’d win that game easily enough. But then again. That was the point. “Okay,” I agreed.

“Come on,” he said, standing.

I rose too and watched as he motioned for the bartender to hand him another bottle of jack. Following him back to an empty table, I eyed the two bottles. “We’re going to get alcohol poisoning if we drink all of that,” I told him.

He chuckled. “It’ll be fine.”

Maybe for him. I actually didn’t drink much. I was just using this as an excuse to allow him to take me out of this bar.

“You live here?” he asked, pouring us both a shot. Somewhere along the line he’d grabbed two glasses.

“Yeah,” I lied, then tossed the shot back. My face screwed up into a grimace. I typically preferred that my alcohol tasted like something more than acid and bad decisions.

“Today’s the first time I’ve seen you.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “You expect to know everyone in this city?”

He shrugged. “Tucson’s a small city. Hard to go anywhere without running into people you know.”

“Well, you don’t know me,” I pointed out.

“Not yet,” he agreed. He poured two more shots.

I was going to need to figure out a way to get rid of this alcohol—other than drinking it—or I was going to be passed out long before I had the chance to kill him.

“You must weigh twice as much as me. You should be taking two shots to my one.” It was a gamble.

He eyed me suspiciously then said, “Fair’s fair I suppose.” And took a second shot. That should help a little.

An hour later, I was swaying in my seat, realizing I’d been right. Holy shit. That man could hold his liquor. Even with him taking double shots, I was still in trouble.

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