Page 7 of Prove You Wrong

I’d hate to know what shereallythought. What’s wrong with us bikers?

‘So, why the sudden change of location?’ Ella asks.

I’m intrigued to hear why these ladies have chosen to come to a pub frequented by said morons.

‘I heard some good things,’ her feisty friend replies. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

It’s wrong but I keep listening to their exchange while tidying around the bar back.

‘Not at all, actually.I came across this place myself recently. I’ve been meaning to check it out.’

Her perfume has percolated through the alcohol fumes, fresh, classic, maybe notes of lavender. It was what she was wearing the other night and I move closer, chasing the scent memory.

As if magnetised, I can’t keep away and find myself approaching them. Finally allowing myself to study her properly, I take in the sight of her tight body barely covered in a skimpy black dress. The way she’s propped up at the bar pushes her tits out, straining the fabric. I knew there was something spectacular hidden under that fucking binbag she’d been wearing.

Scanning up, I catch sight of her sexy mouth, coated in bright pink. A vision of her lipstick smeared around my cock flickers through my mind. I find her doe-like eyes and they’re staring right back at me. Her cheeks are flushed as if she’s read every dirty thought that’s just run through my head.

Chapter 4

Ella

The moment I entered the bar, I realised it washim.I’d only needed to catch half a glimpse to know for sure and now adrenaline is coursing through me, along with the taste of lipstick as I chew my bottom lip.

It was such a relief to find Josie and I hug her like it’s been years instead of days since I last saw her. She squeezes me back, her long red hair soft on my face.

Casting my gaze over her shoulder, I spot some guys in the back corner, their black jackets slung over chairs, and helmets scattered on tables. Despite my distraction with the gorgeous man behind the bar, I’m worried about my friend.

‘You okay with the bikers?’ I dip my head in their direction. Anything to do with motorbikes or bikers stirs up difficult memories for Josie, so I usually try to avoid situations like this. And after my mum’s string of hell’s angel-like exes, I’m not their biggest fan either. If I’ve learnt anything from my mum, it’s what a red flag looks like.

She forces a smile. ‘I’ll have to be.Morons.’ She does an impression of her dad.

As I start asking her about the change of location tonight, I can sense Hot Guy approaching. All coherence leaves me as my one-track mind recalls how the rain plastered his tee-shirt slick to his torso. The image has been replaying through my head ever since and I feel naughty for how he’s become the star of my fantasies. Warmth spreads to my face and I’m thankful people can’t read my thoughts.

All the saliva drains from my mouth and my tongue is suddenly drier than a martini in the desert. I need a drink. But I’m going to need to askhimfor one. Perhaps it would have been better if Ihadstayed at home overthinking this whole thing. Then at least I’d have a plan.

He’s here and he’s talking to me and that bloody dimple is out in full force like a sinkhole, sucking me in.

He’s saying words and now looking at me like I need to say words. I don’t know words. Shit.

Josie nudges me with her foot as she says, ‘Shall we get a couple G and T’s while we decide?’

‘A thinking drink? Nice.’ He winks at me as he says, ‘Coming right up.’

Does he recognise me?

‘You okay?’ Josie asks.

‘I think I may have lipstick on my teeth … I should — ’ My eyes dart around trying to locate the toilets, or even better, an escape, but Josie grabs my face.

‘Show me … nah, you’re fine,’ she reports as I tentatively show her my teeth. There goes my plan to hide in the loos.

Two bulbous glasses are settled in front of us, ice clinking. ‘Let me know if I can get you anything else.’

‘What’s going on with you?’ Josie asks once our barman has gone to the far side of the bar.

I fidget and tug at my dress. ‘Is it that obvious?’

She takes a slurp of her drink, eyebrows raised as if that question doesn’t deserve an answer.

---