Page 17 of Full Throttle

“I’m not into one-night stands, thank you.”

“It doesn’t have to be one night, Cherry. I’m not the player you want to think I am.”

“Why would I want to think that?”

“So you can justify pushing me away, when we both know you want something totally different.”

“And what is it you think I want, Mr. Salvatore?”

“Exactly what I want. To take you to my bed and make you scream my name. My first name. Repeatedly.”

She jumped back, shocked. Or turned on. I couldn’t tell. Her breathing was rapid and her color high. She stood and hurried away, heading for the ladies’ room. I finished my beer, then stood and followed. We weren’t finished with this conversation.

CHERRY

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed. Then I shook my head. Never mind my cheeks. The pink trailed all the way down my neck to my chest. Where my heart was pumping rapidly. From annoyance.

Or something else.

The moment I’d spotted him in the bar, I tensed. Dom Salvatore had been on my mind since the day I had run from him in the restaurant. His showing up at the salon had been enough of a jolt to knock me off my feet. Cutting his hair had been the single most intimate act I’d been part of since my husband had died. Simply touching Dom was akin to an electric shock. Doing so repeatedly had thrown my entire nervous system into overdrive.

Then his coarse words at lunch. His brazenness had taken me back. Stunned me.

Delighted me in ways I never expected.

His utterly dirty words had lit a fire in me I couldn’t put out, no matter how hard I tried.

He starred in my dreams. My wet, lurid dreams. I woke up most mornings, my hand between my legs, wet and aching. Unsatisfied.

His low, raspy voice played over and again in my head.

And then there were his texts. Short little glimpses into him. Teasing, sweet, patient. Endlessly patient, even when I refused to answer. I found myself checking my phone more, hoping one of his comments or queries would be waiting for me.

And then tonight, he was here.

Looking sexy, tall, and intense in his leather jacket, his scruff thick, his eyes locked on me.

Dancing with him was like foreplay. I couldn’t recall ever feeling this way toward a man. Even Hannah’s dad. We were young, inexperienced, in love. Mike had been a tender lover, sweet in his passion.

The complete opposite of the way Dom Salvatore would be in bed.

I realized I was standing, zoning out in a public restroom, and others were waiting for their turn. I dried my hands, trying to decide what to do. Walk out and leave? Take Dom up on his invite and let him bed me for a night?

I shook my head. I couldn’t do that. I was responsible. Hannah was here. What sort of example would that set?

I ignored the laughing voice telling me Hannah was a grown woman and she was out there in the arms of her lover.

Lover.

The word alone gave me the shivers.

I tossed my hair, thinking.

Dom was sex incarnate. His penetrating looks and swagger drew attention. I saw how other women stared at him. The younger ones with daddy fantasies on their mind. Older women wondering how it would feel to have him pick them for a night.

Well, I wasn’t one of them. I hadn’t needed a man for years, and that wasn’t changing now. I was a mature woman, and I could handle a little overblown lust. I’d finish my drink and leave Hannah and Chase to enjoy their evening. Dom could find another woman.

I tamped down the jealousy that flooded my chest at the thought of him walking out the door with someone else clutching his firm bicep.