The intro to The Stroke by Billy Squier blared through the speakers. Lennox yelled, turning in her seat as the lights on the stage began flashing. Cleo, for all her momentary excitement, seemed to shrink in on herself as three figures walked on stage. They picked up their instruments as the crowd went wild.
I was getting too old for this shit.
“Lennox! What’re you doing?” Cleo asked. I glanced over, mouth drying up as her sister stood on top of the rickety stool her perfect little ass had just been perched on. “You’re gonna fall!”
“No, I’m not!” Lennox called, shimmying her hips to the beat of the song. It was hypnotic. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. Her hands ran along her body, fingertips brushing her hips. They climbed up and up and up, twisting in her hair and exposing the column of her neck. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Lennox, stop playing around,” I said, slipping off my seat and circling the table.
She looked down at me and smirked. “No.” Her blue eyes dared me to do something, burning with the same stubborn fire I saw every time she pushed my buttons.
My hand itched to make her, to throw her over my shoulder and find someplace quiet to turn her ass red. Or maybe I’d do it right here, where everyone could see what a fucking brat she was.
A small crowd had gathered around our table. Most were young bucks who didn’t know their ass from their elbow and sure as fuck wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Lennox. She’d chew them up and spit them out without a second thought.
“Get down,” I seethed.
The stool rocked as she crouched down. I didn’t know howshe kept herself so stable. “Or what?” she asked, letting her fingers play with the collar of my shirt. That simple touch sent blood rushing to my cock, and my thoughts spiraling out of control. This moment, that look she was giving me, would be etched into my skin and my memory until the day I died. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Stop being a pain?—”
My words stopped as she reached forward with her other hand. She grabbed my hat and placed it on her head with smug satisfaction. “If you want me to get down, Bishop,” she said, running a finger along the gold chain around my neck, “then you better make me.”
I barely heard the grumble of disappointed men behind me, too aware that Lennox Hayes was wearing my hat.
My. Fucking. Hat.
And then she pushed to her feet as a single spotlight swung to the middle of the stage, lighting up a man standing dead center. His shoulder length hair was tucked beneath a hat, and he was smiling at the crowd.
“Well… goddamn, Ashwood!” he called out as his band struck their first note of the night. The crowd cheered, going wild as he scanned the crowded bar. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home. I’m glad y’all still know how to party!” The man pointed toward Lennox when she cupped her mouth and yelled. The man laughed and said, “Someone buy her a shot on the band!”
As if summoned by fucking magic, three men raced forward to put theirs on the table.
“She doesn’t need any more fucking shots,” I muttered, turning to shoo them away.
Instead, I was stopped by Cleo’s gaze, staring in horror up at the stage. Goddammit, what the hell was happening right now, and why was everything going to shit?
But as quickly as her face fell, she scrunched her nose andhopped down from her seat. “I—I’m fine,” she said, waving me off with a watery smile. “Just need the bathroom. Take care of her for me, yeah?”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the sea of cowboy hats and raised beer bottles as the band played their first song.
“Fuck this,” I said, surging toward Lennox. She was sorely mistaken if she thought her bratty attitude would keep me from going toe-to-toe with her. If anything, the way she acted only made me want to pursue that more—to punish her for the way she was acting and openly defying me.
Lennox yelped as I gripped her thighs, trying my damnedest to ignore the feel of her smooth skin against my callouses. Her dress rode up as I tossed her over my shoulder, and my fingers slid beneath the fabric.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.What the fuck was I doing?
“Bishop!” she scolded, beating her fists against my back. “Put me down!”
Without thinking, I brought my palm down on her ass hard three times, turning her angry protests into a muffled moan. That noise went straight to my dick, which was growing harder by the second.
I grasped her waist, sliding her down my body until her feet rested on the ground. Her eyes met mine the moment she felt my erection through my jeans, pupils blown from either anger or lust. I couldn’t hide it. Truth be told, I wanted her to feel it, for her to know what she was doing to me. Our chests rose and fell to the same staccato beat, lost in a rhythm we couldn’t escape.
I let my gaze drop, instantly regretting my decision. The top of Lennox’s full breasts spilled slightly over the neckline of her dress. Each ragged breath she took drew me in closer, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up and tracing the line.
Her lips parted as the tip of my finger brushed across the heated flesh. My hands were weathered, riddled with callousesand scars from years of hard labor. If I grabbed her own and examined it, I’d find the same, but this? This part of her was unmarred, a creamy expanse of skin that practically begged me to mark it up.
“You just gonna stare at my tits, cowboy?” Lennox asked. It wasn’t her usual bravado. Her voice wavered as if she was trying to gain control of the situation, but she knew it was out of her hands. “Or are you gonna do something about it?”
