Page 2 of Sharkbait
I don’t know where the hell I learned how to operate that way.
Correction: I know exactly where I learned that from, but that’s all in the past.
I’m free now, and it’s freaking glorious.
Did I mention sexy bartender man has a buzz cut? That style is not usually my cup of tea. But on this guy? I’m obsessed. I wantto run my hands all over his prickly, sexy skull.
So I do.
Let’s rewind for a moment. How exactly did I end up making out with a sexy-as-hell, buzz-cut bartender in a walk-in beer refrigerator?
It was some kind of magic.
After hours of sly glances across the bar, we locked eyes and…boom.
No words were necessary.
Instant same page.
Things happened fast from there. I mumbled something to my friends about the bathroom. He threw his rag down on a rack of pint glasses. Then before I knew it, we were facing off in a dark hallway, breaths synced, bodies drawn to each other like magnets.
And I’m not being poetic about the magnet thing either. This honest-to-God energy I’ve never experienced before literally pulsed through my body anddraggedme to him.
I resisted it for a hot second, but then that voice in my head—the one that’s usually so freaking loud—surprised the hell out of me when it whispered, “Fuck it, Lou.”
Fuck it, indeed.
Tonight I‘m not “smart girl” Louise who weighs every decision over and over until her brain is ready to burst. Tonight, I’m not “responsible girl” Louise who everyone counts on to do the right thing.
Tonight, I am Lou: the girl who does whatever—or whoever—she wants.
James. His name is James.
James breaks from the kiss and runs the backs of his fingers down my cold cheek. “You’re really not gonna tell me your name?” His whisper sends delicious chills across my skin.
“No, I am not,” I whisper back.
“Alright.” His deep voice vibrates as he rains kisses down the column of my throat. “I guess I’ll keep calling you Cold Brew then.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Oh no?” He tears his lips away.
“Resume what you were doing, please!”
I’m giving him mixed signals.
“What I meant was I likethat.”I point at his mouth, then jut my neck out in his direction. “The uh, that thing you were doing just now to my neck? Thatwas good. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me... Cold Brew.”
He dives into my neck again, and I think we’re back on track until he murmurs this madness between kisses, “That’s too bad. A hot thing like you slowly pouring over me and effortlessly spiking the temps in my refrigerator? A strong, concentrated woman like you who won’t be diluted with water for other people’s comfort? A delectable drink of a girl like you who isn’t afraid of a coarse grind when everyone else is pummeling themselves into soft, palatable powders to please the masses? Cold Brew is the perfect nickname for you.”
What the hell is he talking about?
So he’s weird. That’s fine. After tonight, I’ll never see him again.
Looks like I need to take matters into my own hands.
I cup the bulge in his jeans and feel him respond.
