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For some strange reason, I couldn’t pull my gaze away from him. What in the hell? I was a very educated young woman, and I just sounded like a goddamn teenager trying to figure out how to talk to her crush.
Terri pulled me into the booth as Tucker shot me a funny look and turned, walking over to the bar. I hadn’t fumbled over my words like that in at least seven years. Of course, that was the most Tucker had talked to me, or touched me, in the last seven years.
“Jesus, sit down before you fall again,” Terri said.
Feeling humiliated, I let out a frustrated groan. “Are Jim and Tucker joining us?” I asked, looking back at her with a dirty look. I had wanted this to be a girls’ night only.
Terri grinned an evil grin. “Yep.”
A waitress walked up and flashed us both a huge smile. “What can I get ya?”
“I’ll have a Blue Moon,” I said with a grin of my own.
“Same for me! Thanks!” Terri blurted out all chipper sounding.
My body sagged. I wasn’t in the mood to be around Tucker. I didn’t have the energy to pretend like I was okay. Not tonight. Tonight I needed to talk to Terri and get her advice on this fucked-up situation. I didn’t need members of the XY gender joining us and offering their sage words of wisdom that always involved their penises.
“Why, Terri? I needed a girls’ night out, and I needed to talk to you about something very important, like life-or-death important.”
Before she had a chance to respond, Jim slid into the booth. “So, what do you think about Sedotto, Charlie?”
I couldn’t help my reaction to Jim, though; he was infectious to be around. With a wide grin, I glanced around the bar again. “I love it! I foresee this being our new weekend hangout.”
“Hope so, since it’s my bar.”
His voice alone sent shivers down my spine. Turning around as I peered up, I got a better look at Tucker and swallowed hard. A few moments ago my eyes had been pinned to his, not allowing me to take him in fully. Now I got to study him closer. Something I enjoyed doing very much.
He was dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked completely fuckable. Then again, he could have a bag over his head and I’d think he was fuckable. And gorgeous.
No, I don’t mean that. Yes, I do. No. No, I don’t.
Then his words replayed in my head.
It’s my bar … My mind did a double take. “What do you mean, it’s your bar?” I blurted with a noticeable amount of time between when he said it and when I spoke. I hadn’t meant for it to come out so bitchy and condescending, yet I knew he would take it that way.
“I mean, it’s my bar, Pumpkin. I am capable of owning and running a business, not just serving drinks.”
Thud.
There went my heart … straight to the ground. My cheeks heated at the memory of Tucker whispering into my ear as he sank balls deep into me.
“Does that feel good, Pumpkin?”
Tucker stared at me with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. That bastard. It was almost as if he knew the endearment would bring back that memory.
Oh, Jesus, Charlie. Stop this! Focus.
“You … own … this place?” It felt like I had to force the words out.
His smile grew bigger and those damn dimples appeared. “I sure do.”
That voice made my insides heat up. It didn’t help he hadn’t shaved in a few days either and from our previous interaction and him rubbing that scruff on my cheeks, all I could think about was that scruff roughing up the inside of my thighs. Damn, he looked hot as hell. I was suddenly fixated on wondering what his face would feel like between my legs. Would he take his time or quickly bring out an orgasm? I could still remember what it felt like to have him buried deep inside me, and I longed for that again.
My mouth went dry as I let the mental image of Tucker buried between my legs play out.
Terri leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What in the hell are you thinking? Because your face is turning ten shades of red, and I can practically feel the lust pouring off your body, you whore! Are you about to orgasm in front of Tucker? If so, I need to excuse myself.”
Shaking my head, I got a grip on myself.
