Page 3 of Immortal Bastard

With a nod, she rushed off to fill the order and Delilah anxiously waited, hoping to slam her shot, grab her beer, and get the hell away from google-eyed-boomer. Gazing straight ahead, her knee bounced as her foot balanced on the lowest rung of the stool.

“You know,” Stool Hog started again. “There are laser treatments now. You could get them removed.”

Mother. Fucker. This guy didn’t know when to stop.

“You could probably find one in the area—”

“Look,” she snapped, cutting off any more of his pedantic bullshit. “If my tattoos bother you so much, maybe you should find someone else to ogle. I don’t remember asking for your fucking opinion or even sending you a signal that I was remotely interested in what you thought. Look at me and look at you. You’re older than my dad. No wonder you don’t get it.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

“And I bite.”

“I bet.” His gaze dropped and he leaned in, moving to touch her, but she jerked back.

“Hands off, dude. Find yourself a geriatric center and have some pudding with people your own age.”

“That’s the problem with you young people—”

“How about you shut the fuck up about things you’re too fucking closed-minded to understand, and let me order my goddamn drink in peace?”

He scowled. It should have been enough to end any further dialogue, but the dickhead was enslaved by his ego and couldn’t resist hearing himself talk. “I was just going to say—”

“I believe you were saying goodnight,” a deep voice cut off Stool Hog’s response, and Delilah stilled as the fine hairs on her neck lifted with awareness as the new ink on her wrist tingled.

She slowly rotated her body to look up. Holy shit. Her mouth fell open as she gaped at the gorgeous man. Tall, with dark wavy brown hair, a strong jaw, a straight nose, and bright crystalline eyes lined with thick, dark lashes stared back at her.

Come to mama.

The boomer also pivoted. “This is a private conversation.”

That stunning face locked on the boomer, his eyes brimming with unflinching promise. How could anyone so menacing also be so damn beautiful? “The lady asked you to leave her in peace, did she not?”

Stool Hog glared at the intruder. “What are you, her keeper?”

“Yes.”

That one word hit like a punch, knocking the wind out of her as heat tingled through her veins. Every muscle in her body went weak. Heat consumed her blood and her thighs pressed tight. She’d never seen the man before in her life, yet his classically beautiful face fit her definition of perfect so well, he seemed familiar as if he were literally the man of her dreams.

Wow, she silently mouthed, wondering what a man like that might do with a few extra hours and her naked body sprawled beneath him. Visions of entangled, sweaty limbs filled her mind. Mouths licking, bodies writhing, muscles contracting…

His glare snapped from Stool Hog to her and his nostrils flared. Was he having the same chemical response? Picturing the same sinful scene? Something in his intense stare told her he was.

Fuck the drink. This tall glass of water was better than anything the bar was serving. Yes, she definitely could see herself riding his face and wearing his cum before dawn.

His hand shot out, possessively curling around her shoulder, doing that thing when guys see a woman in trouble with a creeper and act like they know her.

She smiled and fluttered her lashes up at him, enjoying his possessive hold even if it was total bullshit. My hero…

His grip tightened on her bare shoulder, once again implying his interest. The strobe lights flashed against his catlike eyes and she frowned at the inhuman shape of his pupils. Was he wearing contacts?

“Look, buddy—”

“I’m not your buddy.” Mr. Gorgeous corrected the forgotten pest to her left.

He spoke with an accent, thick and heavy, hopefully like his cock.

Stool Hog took a disgruntled stance and started to rise. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation until—”

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