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Finally, he made it over to the bar and managed to catch a prospect’s attention. Dare ordered his usual whiskey and peered down the bar, trying to see what the raucous crowd down there was all about. Finally he asked Blake, “What’s the deal?” He gestured toward the far end.
Blake swept the long strands of dark blond out of his eyes and smiled. “There’s a girl doing a taste test.”
Dare frowned. What the hell did that mean? And then a thread of discomfort curled into his gut. What girl?
Probably Cora, given how shy Haven was. She hadn’t even been able to come into the room at their last party, and tonight was rowdier by far. Still, the idea of Cora getting drunk as a public spectacle didn’t sit right with him. He at least wanted to make sure someone was looking out for her.
He pushed through the crowd of onlookers until he made it to the far end of the bar, and there was Cora—except she was sitting sideways on her bar stool, seemingly looking at someone else. He tapped a couple of younger guys on the shoulder, and they stepped back for him the minute they realized who it was.
And that’s when Dare saw Haven.
Standing at the bar in a pair of killer tight jeans, heeled black sandals, and a clingy, form-fitting black shirt that emphasized her curves. Her hair was stunning—pulled back in some sort of complicated arrangement and tumbling in soft waves all the way down her back. The crowd immediately around her quieted for a moment, and she must’ve noticed, because she laughed and glanced over her shoulder, a puzzled expression on her face.
And that’s when she saw him. “Dare,” she breathed, her voice high and light, clearly the effect of alcohol, like the pretty pink flush on her cheeks.
But what he noticed even more was the makeup on her face. She didn’t need it—in fact, he preferred her without it—but he couldn’t deny that she looked like a model done up to such perfection.
Jesus Christ.
Dare was rock hard in an instant, his effort to rein in his body by avoiding her all week undone with just one glance, just one word.
“What are you doing?” he bit out.
“Trying new things,” she said, swaying a little on her low heels. “Join me?” One eyebrow went up just the littlest amount, and the challenge implicit in that tiny gesture was like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull.
He sidled in next to her, so that when she turned to face Cora, her back was at his front. “Exactly what is it you’re trying?” he asked over her shoulder.
She spun to face him. “For right now, different kinds of drinks. I never had anything before tonight. Can you believe it?”
Uh, yeah. He could. Though it was hard to resist her obvious pleasure in trying something new, even apart from the growing inebriation. She wasn’t drunk yet, but she was a few sips past tipsy for sure. It made her body fluid and loose, all of her usual timidity and tenseness gone. The confidence she wore might’ve been all the liquor talking, but it was still sexy as fuck.
Why did she affect him this way? She was too young and too innocent and too in trouble for him. And did he mention too young?
“And what have you tried so far?” he asked, his gaze dragging over the line of bottles and shot glasses arrayed in front of her.
She chuckled. “I don’t remember what all their names were,” she said, looking to Jeb, the club’s other current prospect. “Except for the Buttery Nipple. That one’s kinda hard to forget.”
Jeb braced his hands on the bar top, his brown hair covered by a black doo-rag knotted around his head. Dare must’ve been throwing off some hard-core displeasure, because the kid looked at him like he knew he needed to tread carefully. “She’s had very small sips of red and white wine, vodka, tequila, whiskey, and rum—just enough to taste them, and mini-shots of a Buttery Nipple, Alabama Slammer, and Lemon Drop. So far.” A mostly empty glass of water also sat in front of her, so at least the kid had been doing that much for her.
Haven grinned at him. “Vodka and tequila are not good by themselves. Though you probably know that. But whiskey is pretty good, and I really liked the Alabama Slammer and Buttery Nipple.” She wobbled, her hand gripping the edge of the bar largely responsible for holding her steady. “What should I try next?” she asked Dare.
“A Blow Job!” someone behind them yelled. The crowd laughed and cheered.
Despite the fact that Haven’s cheeks filled with a dark pink, she met Dare’s gaze and licked her lips, making them shiny. “Should I? Try a Blow Job?”
