Page 14 of The Satyr's Guilt
After performing a one-eighty with predatorygrace, the dreamsicle rested his elbows on the bar, leaned back,and crossed one ankle over the other. He managed easygoing andpredatory at the same time. She fixed on the muscular forearmsexposed beneath his rolled-up black sleeves. With each breath, hischest expanded, threatening to pop buttons on the silky collaredshirt clinging to his solid pecs.
His sexuality was a gravitational field,sucking in the women along with a few men who sauntered past. Theyswished their hips, wandering by him to get a closer look-see. Somesidled alongside to flirt openly.
His lips curled into the sexy smile of a manwho reveled in his effect on the opposite sex. But his eyes. Theywere translucent pieces of pale beach glass, framed by thicklashes.
They swept the room, probably looking for aneasy score. All the handsome ones were searching for a mark,weren’t they? An easy woman. A woman they could manipulate.
Unfortunately, Denim was a sucker for a guywho pulled off polished gigolo and dangerous man in one body.
As women walked past the sexy guy, hisirises latched onto their asses. No doubt about it. He was aplayer. A troller. A bullshit artist.
While Denim continued to monitor the actionaround the sexy guy, a skank in five-inch heels and a barely-thereskirt had slithered alongside. With her mitts wrapped aroundgorgeous guy’s enormous biceps, she planted a kiss on dreamsicle’slips, her boobs pressed against his chest. Could she have been moreblatant?
As if he had opened for business, a tallcurly-haired woman squeezed between him and the behemoth. Herfingers strolled across his pecs, probably leaving greasy smudgeson his expensive shirt. This time, he bent forward to drop a kisson her.
As Denim continued to monitor the situation,Galena poked her arm. “Who’s snagged your interest?” She followedher partner’s gaze. “Oh no, girlfriend. Wrong direction. WrongFirebrand. The slab of steamy beef is Ramirez. Man-whore should betattooed across his forehead. Of course, he’s a satyr. So it comeswith the territory.”
Pfftwent her fantasy, but it wasn’tas if she hadn’t already guessed.
She sipped her Alabama Slammer. “Don’tworry,cher. I’ve learned the hard way to stay away from histype. Obviously, my man-dar is broken or I wouldn’t have marriedthe idiot wife-beater.” Denim cocked her head in Ram’s direction.“Women ogled Steven, too, but he had eyes for me. Sure he did. Hethought I was a push-over. And I was. For a time.”
Denim was due a little R and R. But whileshe was hoping for rest and relaxation, gorgeous guy was likelysearching for some rock and rut.
Galena pivoted in her chair to check out theShed. “It’s raining males tonight. How about the guy overthere?”
“Nice looking, but I’m not in themarket.”
“He’s got a big gun and knows how to use it,if you know what I mean.”
“You’ve screwed him?”
Galena nodded, finishing off her drink. “Ofcourse. How else could I recommend him?”
“Ew. That’s just wrong. I’m not taking yourseconds like a poor country cousin,cher.” Her gaze returnedto the bar.
“You’ve got a thing for satyrs, huh? Ramwill give you a good time. No complaints from any of the ladiesabout him.”
“Have you messed around with him, too?”
“No. I avoid knocking boots with thewarriors stationed in my own stronghold.”
Denim sighed, relieved Galena hadn’t doneher fantasy he-man.
“I can tell you’re not gonna let him go.”Galena pursed her lips before she shared. “Ram’s not a Steven. He’snot cruel or abusive. Just stiff as a board all the time. But he’sa satyr. Hell, sticking their wicks in females is a biologicalimperative. It’s how they feed. They need the arousal which comeswith sex. Can’t live without it. Like blood to a vamp. But youcan’t count on them being in bed to warm your feet the nextmorning.”
“I don’t know if I’m good at casualhook-ups.”
“If you’re interested in the satyr, youbetter get good at it. It’s the only way he flies. He never returnsfor seconds unless he’s sure the female has no designs on him.”
Having disengaged his lips from Tall andCurly, the corners of Ram’s mouth curved into a self-satisfiedsmile, but his eyes moved away from the bar slut.
Holy hell.
The dreamsicle’s translucent gaze was hookedon Denim, and it was flashing green. She swiped a hand across theback of her neck. “Is it hot in here?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I caught a blast from afurnace.”
