Page 4 of Brewbies
But an instinct older than the Cascade Mountain Range warned him that she was no quick fuck. She wasTroublewith a capital T.
“I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that, but I won’t deny it.” He took another swig of his beer, wishing he could hold the chilled glass to his heated cheeks.
“Well, come on then,” she said, sliding off the barstool in such a way that lifted her skirt almost up to her hip. Tugging at it, she did a little catwalk turn before reaching for his hand.
He took one look at her ass and forgot what his name was.
Was he doing this? Was this going to happen?
Something whispered to him that this was, indeed, going to happen whether he was ready or not.
It might have been the fact that he’d already allowed her to pull him from his stool and halfway to the door before he realized what was going on.
A chilly night welcomed them as spring threatened to give way to summer. The staccato of her heels made a sensual symphony against the concrete. Each step, each breath, each heartbeat, inhale and exhale, caused the chaos in his core to culminate in his cock.
“Where are we doing this? Your car?” she suggested.
He stumbled. No way. He had weapons in there. Classified paperwork. She’d leave it smelling of whatever herbal musk clung to her atmosphere, no doubt peddled by a French model or an A-lister.
“I have a room.” He nodded to the four-star hotel down the block he’d booked for the evening.
Sweet, but with a critical edge, she smiled, her lips curving up into a bow, her pearly whites glinting in the streetlight. “Can’t figure you out. Are you a man with a plan? Or an overconfident asshat?”
“I thought you weren’t going to ask.”
He could tell his answer amused and irritated her at the same time.
Must not have been that big a deal, because sheworkedthat satin-covered ass as she set off toward the hotel with renewed purpose.
They didn’t speak when the elevator doors closed them in with a Sikh having an intense conversation on his cell. Nor when they were dumped onto the fifteenth floor.
In fact, the next thing she said to him was when he’d thrown the tumbler lock and slid the chain home, securing them in his room.
“Just so you know,” she said, “I have a taser.”
Cute.He had to pretend he wasn’t trained to take it from her. Because the last thing he wanted was to make any woman afraid of him.
“I was perched beneath the bar’s camera with you, was seen in the elevator’s camera with you, and used my professional discount to upgrade the room. If I’d been up to no good, I’d have made different decisions.”
“Fair point.” She discarded a clutch on the desk and glanced around, taking in the plush carpeting, glossy headboard, desk, nightstands, and lamps.
A large king bed dominated the room, its heavy four-post canopy reaching to the ceiling like a treehouse, the lush sheets and pillows a welcome invitation.
“Do you care if I open the curtains?” she asked, gliding toward the drapes. “I love a view.”
“Sure.”
As her arms lifted to catch the cord, the hem of her dress summited her thigh and began to hike up the curve of her ass.
Should be criminal to go out in public looking that fuckable.
“Wait. You’re not going to…to charge me for this, are you?”
If he were a coward, he’d turn away so he wouldn’t have to face the fallout of that question. If she demanded money, he’d be upset. If he assumed she wanted compensation and she didn’t, she’d be upset.
Ugh. He done fucked up.
She again startled him by breaking into a grin followed by a bubble of her infectious laughter. “Believe me, if I decided to charge for this kind of thing, you couldn’t afford me. Now take off your pants.”
