Instead, he dropped her off, and the way Lisa looked at him, he knew she was thinking about a kiss and wondering if the time was now.
If he got his mouth on her, no one would get to work; that was a damn fact.
He wanted her mouth. Ached to take it, to feel how soft it was, to check if his memories of her taste still drove him wild.
Grunting low in his throat, he told Lisa he’d talk to her later, and he climbed back into the truck to head to the club.
* * *
An unexpected brawl broke out at Hellfire that night.
Splice was only passing through, but he hung around when a pack of frat boys was causing a ruckus on one of the back tables. Because they were spending big, he let the manager deal with them. Having warned one guy twice when he was being too rowdy, spilling glasses and hitting the asses of the servers, Splice heard shouting, then a slap. He turned around in time to see that same frat motherfucker wind his arm back and crash his palm across the face of a young girl. Splice vaulted over the bar in seconds, glancing at the girl on the floor, before he grabbed the college-age guy by the scruff of the neck.
“He tried to feel her up, dirty fucking pig.” One of her friends yelled.
“She’s lying.” The pervert struggled under Splice’s hold, and then he made a colossal mistake by grabbing a beer bottle; he swung it at Splice, who got his free arm up just in time, or the bottle would have broken on his face.
Some of the minion friends tried to rush forward; Zen and two of the door staff held them back while Splice punched the frat boy in the throat, bringing him to the floor, holding him down with a knee on his chest. He whistled for Zen, who looked over.
“Take the girl and her friends away. Don’t let anyone leave until the cops get here.”
It took a while for the law to turn up.
“Boss, you’re bleeding.” One of his female servers told him, frowning, as she looked at his hand. Splice had felt no pain, but sure enough, the side of his hand was cut open.
He should have booted the asshole in the dick. He couldn’t stand guys who preyed on women.
In the back office, he cleaned up the gash and applied a waterproof bandage. When he looked at his silver wristwatch, he grunted, anger simmering through his bloodstream. He’d missed his ten p.m. call with Lisa and hadn’t let her know.
That just pissed him off, and he wanted to throat punch that D-bag all over again.
“I’m taking off,” he told Zen. “Cooperate with the cops, and comp the girl’s taxis home, got it?”
“Sure. Glad you were here; don’t think I could have taken him on,” Zen half-laughed.
“Keep a bat behind the bar. Be prepared for anything to happen.” Splice warned and stalked off through the bar. His bloodstream hadn’t settled down at all when he pulled into Lisa’s driveway.
He dealt with so much bullshit like that, big and small, that he shouldn’t feel as wired as he was feeling. But he was really bothered that dealing with it made him late for Lisa, so he got off his bike and left his helmet hanging on the handlebars.
He connected the call, and Lisa’s sweet voice calmed his temper.
“It’s me,” he grunted. “Were you asleep?”
“No, not yet.”
“I’m outside; open the door.”
“You’re here?”
“Open the door, Lisa.” He issued again, his tone felt like gravel in his throat as he approached the door and watched the hallway light flip on.
The door opened, and he stepped into her house, backing her up in surprise until she was pressed against the wall. His towering frame was almost bristling with need, every nerve ending tingling at how gorgeous this woman was and at how her very existence affected him on a molecular, basic level.
“Ryan...” she said shakily, her hands pressing into his chest, not holding him back, just there, touching him.
How did he go from the violence just an hour ago to now, when his body was alive to hold her and taste her after so long? He’d only had one thought: to lay his eyes on Lisa, to feel the tremble of desire shake away his black mood.
She was dressed in something simple: bedtime shorts and a t-shirt, but to Splice, she was the hottest little thing on this earth, with no exceptions, and the groan boiled right from his gut as he continued to crowd her. His breathing felt choppy as he dropped his head and wound a hand around her curvy waist.
