I’m almost tempted. “Maybe later.”
“Sure.” She grips my arm harder. Christ, her perfume’s strong. I try not to breathe it in and start to turn away from her. “Fancy a drink, Gage?”
She really can’t take a hint. The thought of hooking up later is no longer even half tempting. I’m not that desperate for a blow job.
Rowdy laughter erupts from the back room, and I pull free from her grasp. Not that I’m expecting trouble, but sometimes non-regulars need a reminder of just who owns Odin’s. I swing around and stop dead. Strolling toward me, grasping a handful of empty glasses and beer bottles, is the sexiest chick I’ve ever seen.
It’s like I’ve been punched in the gut, and all I can do is drink in the sight of her knee-high boots, black fishnets, and short leather skirt. Her messy, copper-blonde hair frames her face, and her lips are full and inviting. But bizarrely, it’s her black sleeveless shirt that snags my attention. It hides everything, when I expected cleavage, and somehow the combination of fuck-me-now legs and don’t-touch tits strikes me speechless.
She tosses her head, clearly not giving a shit about the coarse comments following her, and catches my gaze. For a second I think she’s going to stumble, but instead she gives me an oddly furtive once-over, before I block the door and she has no choice but to stop.
“Coming through.” There’s a husky edge in her voice that dives straight to my dick.Fuck, no.She raises the glasses and gives me a half smile that doesn’t do anything to kill the graphic image of me shoving her up against the nearest wall. She’s obviously Amelia Davis. Who the hell else can she be?
This chick has got to go.Any girl that works in the bar is hot—my sister excluded, of course. It’s a job requirement. But I don’t want one who can give me a hard-on just bystandingthere.
Instead of telling her that, I step back to let her pass, and it’s got everything to do with wanting to see how cute her ass is as she walks on by. I swallow a groan. It’d be funny if it weren’t so inconvenient.
“Thanks.” She tosses the word over her shoulder, along with another lingering glance. She takes in my leather vest, and her smile freezes as if she never even noticed it before. Her cheeks go pink, and why that’s a fucking turn-on I don’t know, but instead of looking me in the eye again, she speeds up and disappears behind the bar.
I let out a breath and scan the room to make sure no one saw the effect she had on me. It’s like she was full of electricity, sending shockwaves through the air. I grin at the image, which is fucking insane, but also weirdly accurate.
Shame I have to fire her. On the upside, at least it means I have a chance of screwing her tonight.
…
Amelia
I dump the bottles in the trash in the room behind the bar and take a deep breath. My cheeks are still burning, and I resist the urge to press my hands against my face. Or escape out the back door. That’d work, too.
For almost an hour, I’d collected the empties and wiped down tables, and despite some dirty comments, no one had tried to grab me. Maybe it’s a house rule, but it kind of surprised me.
Whatever. I can’t believe the only guy I looked at twice is aViking Bastard.What are the chances? I hope he’s not Gage Reynolds because that’s just going to be awkward as hell.
“Amelia.” Tod leans into the small area. “Come and meet the boss.”
No way. My stomach churns, and I risk patting my cheeks which are as hot to the touch as I feared. There’s still a small chance that the guy I all but drooled over in public isn’t my temporary boss.
I’m not holding my breath, though, which as just as well, since the guy behind Tod with his arms folded across his impressive chest is, of course,him.
He looks nothing like his cousin. For a start, he’s got to be six feet tall, and his dark brown hair isn’t nearly as long as most bikers I’ve known.
Stop. Staring.I blink a couple of times and pretend I can’t see his gorgeous brown eyes or the hint of a smile playing about his kissable lips.
Tod slinks back to the bar, and there’s nothing for it but to brazen it out. Gage probably didn’t even notice me giving him the eye a couple of minutes ago, not with that blonde dripping all over him.
“Hey, Amelia,” he says, and his voice is all dark and throaty and sends shivers racing over my arms.This isn’t supposed to happen in real life.Except it is, and I literally have no idea where to look because he’s taking up all the space.
All the air, as well. I hitch in a shallow breath and try not to stare at his patches. Or his abs.Definitelynot any farther south…
“Hi.” I manage to sound bored, which is a huge relief. I have the crazy urge to tell him to call me Amy, like all my friends and family do, and I don’t know why, because that never crossed my mind when I had the interview with Tod.
Gage Reynolds is not, and will never be, my friend or anything even approaching that, soAmeliait is. It’s nothing to do with the way my name seems to roll off his tongue like spiced honey.
Get a fucking grip, Amy.
“Gage Reynolds.” He holds out his hand and for a second I stare at it. Is he for real? I have the scary conviction if I touch him I’ll spontaneously combust.
Before I can stop myself, I take his hand. His fingers wrap around me, and his thumb caresses my skin in a blatantly possessive gesture. The last of the oxygen disappears from my lungs, and I clutch his hand as though he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
