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Both of these were very bad things with a possible disastrous ending.
Within minutes of my arrival at Biddies Bar, it became pretty clear that Cormac wasn’t Bella’s top priority. The minute I sat down at the table with the lads, she’d made a beeline for my lap and hadn’t left since.
I spent most of the night trying to avoid making eye contact with the short skirt she was wearing and the view of that scrap of black lace between her thighs whenever she bent over the table to whisper something in one of her friend’s ears.
It physically pained me.
Not because I was having some emotionally charged reaction toward her or anything like that, but because my balls ached.
It wasn’t that Bella wasn’t an attractive girl. To give her credit, she was probably the best-looking girl in the bar. With black hair styled in a bob, a tall curvaceous body, and a massive pair of tits, she was a serious looker.
The issue was that I was done. I was over it, whatever the hell it had been between us, and I had been for a long time. And I wasn’t interested in stepping back into the ring for another round.
That didn’t seem to make a blind bit of difference to the girl because she was like a dog with a bone.
Me being the bone.
I’d lost count of the number of times I’d gone to the bar for another round just so I could reposition myself in a seat far away from her.
It didn’t work.
Her ass always found its way back to my lap, and I just ended up getting drunk faster. No amount of no or not tonight or never again seemed to make a difference. She wouldn’t leave me alone.
I didn’t want to embarrass or hurt the girl, though. I wasn’t a complete prick. Which was why I was tolerating this shite.
By half one, my head was swimming, the alcohol in my veins, mixed with the strong-ass medication I was still taking, making me clumsy and uncoordinated.
On a bright note, I wasn’t in pain anymore. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing.
Super.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Bella purred, leaning close to my ear. Sliding her hand into the opening of my shirt, she trailed her fingers over my collarbone. “Somewhere a little more private?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I brushed her hand aside—the one that was tiptoeing up my arm—and reached for the vodka and Red Bull I’d switched to eight pints in. My movements were clumsy, causing my drink to slosh over the rim of the glass and onto the knee of my jeans.
All fucking night she’d been trying to kiss me and pet me, and all night, I’d been turning my head and brushing off her wandering hands.
I wasn’t a PDA kind of guy and she knew this.
Sitting on my lap like this wasn’t something I would tolerate on a normal night when we were on good terms, and the only reason she hadn’t been ejected from my lap by now was because I was drunk as fuck and didn’t want to accidentally drop her on the floor and cause damage.
I didn’t like this, though. Drunk or not, I didn’t appreciate this touchy-feely crap.
“Come on, sexy.” Unperturbed by my actions, Bella reached for the collar of my shirt again. “We could always go out to the car?” she suggested, flicking another button open.
It had to be the fourth fucking button she’d managed to undo.
“No, Bella,” I grumbled, my words coming out slurred. “Stop doing that.” Capturing her hand, I removed it from my shirt and put it back on her lap. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I can get you in the mood,” she teased, hand moving to my belt buckle.
“Stop.” I snagged her hand and placed it firmly on her lap. Again. “I’m still recovering—and we’re done.”
“Oh really?” She slid her hand inside my shirt, ignoring the we’re done part. “I can change that, too.”
“No.” I brushed her other hand away from my crotch, grunting in pain when she roughly palmed my dick. “Bella, stop—” I paused to shake off the hand curling around the back of my neck. “Please just stop.”
Jesus Christ, if I kept touching her after she’d told me to stop, there would be war.
