Page 2 of Desire Me
Laughter made the rounds again, but in the midst, Saint found his gaze wandering back across the bar. It wasn’t until Dain stood from his barstool that his attention came back to his friends.
“So, Monday?” Dain said.
“Monday,” the rest of the team groaned.
“Hey, at least we’re not on assignment this weekend,” Elliot pointed out. They’d been working more often than not lately, but the holidays were shaping up to be quiet, thank goodness. His mom would pitch a fit if he missed another Christmas dinner with his family.
Elliot stood as well, and then King. Time to go.
Saint glanced across the bar one more time.
Elliot and Dain headed for the door. King’s heavy hand landed on Saint’s shoulder. “Coming, bro?”
Saint hesitated.
King’s chuckle was knowing. “I thought so.”
He shot around on the stool. “You thought what?”
“I thought you might be staying behind.” King squeezed his shoulder, then gave him a hard pat that almost threw Saint into the bar. “We’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
Saint snickered. “Sure. Give Charlotte my love.”
King and Charlotte had been childhood sweethearts, but they’d only recently come back together when Charlotte’s life was threatened. Another reason Saint was happy to play the field. It seemed like anyone his team got involved with was already in danger. The thought of a woman of his being in danger… A red haze shifted across his eyesight.
“Will do.” King’s gaze shifted to the dark-haired beauty across the bar; then he gave Saint a wink. “Later.”
Saint grabbed his beer and downed the last swallow, enjoying the bite as it slid down his throat. The bottle landed on the bar with a faint rattle, and then he was off his seat and headed around to the other side of the room.
He’d made it no more than five feet when a heavyset man moved in on his target.
That red haze? It made a reappearance so swift the room spun.
His casual stroll turned into a charge worthy of a bull. Whatever the asshole was saying, it was clear the woman was increasingly uncomfortable. Saint could read the protests as they left her lips, practically hear the demand in the man’s voice despite the crowd separating them. But it was the meaty paw landing on the woman’s arm and clamping down that brought a roar to Saint’s lips, a roar he barely held back.
He had rounded the final edge of the bar, still several feet away, when the asshole reared back, his hands coming up to cover his nose. It was the man who roared, not Saint. No, as he watched the woman’s elbow lower back to her side, it was a laugh that escaped him. She hadn’t needed him after all. Why did that fill him with pride?
“Jesus fucking Christ, woman! What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t like being manhandled,” she said clearly. The words hit Saint like a one-two punch—appropriate, considering. The woman’s voice had a northern accent, not New York but something flatter, less pronounced, wrapped up in a husky tone that sent tingles down his spine straight to his balls, and a self-assurance that turned him on more than either of the first two. The intense need to meet her, to know her, skyrocketed the second her voice registered in his ears.
Mr. Asshole stumbled back toward a group of what had to be his buddies in the far corner—they were laughing too much to be anyone else but an interested party. Saint continued forward without even a consideration of stopping, and before he knew it, he was standing behind the empty barstool next to the woman. “Nice move.”
Beneath the fall of her dark, curly hair, the woman’s shoulders tensed, readying herself for another attack. The knowledge pierced his gut in a way sexual attraction didn’t.
“Hey.” He made no move to touch her, though his fingers itched with the need. “No worries. Just an observation.”
She snorted as her head jerked in his direction. Mouth open, no doubt to tell him to get lost. But the words died on her lips the minute their eyes met.
She felt it too. If the lack of words didn’t tell him that, the stunned look in her eyes did. And that made him one lucky son of a bitch.
Across the bar the sight of her dark eyes had drilled deep into him, but here, this close, mere inches away, they worked a magic that totally threw him. A magic he couldn’t resist. It wound around his body, tightened, holding him captive, and damn if he didn’t feel that look gripping his cock right through his clothes. His breath choked off in his throat.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, hi.” Her words were accompanied by a smile that was a one-eighty pivot from a moment ago. Softer. Sweet. Definitely interested, thank fuck.
“Hi.” He indicated the empty stool. “Mind if I sit?”
He wouldn’t barge in without permission, no matter how interested she seemed. He wasn’t Mr. Asshole.
