Page 46 of Silver Player

“Well, it’s true, but I was hoping to impress her with my kissing expertise.” I’m filling the glass again while I listen to myself, and the words sink to the pit of my stomach.

“And I’m sure that statement did the trick,” Clyde mumbles. I lift the glass and begin drinking again. What does he know about women? “A woman likes to feel special, one of a kind.”

Did I ask my question out loud, or is he suddenly into mind reading? I don’t stop to ask. I just continue guzzling down the crisp taste of our house specialty. It’s the head on this brew that makes it so good, and I chug it to keep the flavor consistent.

Let me give you a taste of my head, I like to joke as I pour for a flirtatious female customer.

“A woman wants to be wooed.” Clyde’s still rambling.

“She wants my wood,” I mutter, removing the empty glass from my lips and reaching for the tap again.

“Not your wood, nimrod. Wooed, like wined and dined. When’s the last time you took a woman on a date and not your office for a quickie?”

I don’t take women to my office. That’s my sacred space at the pub. But I can’t answer his question about a date. I haven’t dated in years. The only time I take with a woman is the time it takes to…

“You sound like a goddamn woman, Clyde. How do you know so much about this shit?”

“I read,” he states proudly, standing to his full height and puffing out his chest. I shake my head. Well, that explains it.

You don’t touch a book, William. You read it. You enjoy it. And you’ll never read mine.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason I don’t read,” I mumble. Too many words, like those that hurt.

18

Floored

[Roxanne]

By standing near the front counter, I see him coming before he even enters the store. I’m fixing a display on the side counter when his body appears in my periphery. I turn and watch as Billy crosses the street, holding up a hand to stop an oncoming car in order to reach my side of the road. My eyes remain fixed on him as he yanks open the front door that sits at an angle to the corner, and then he struts up to the counter, only he doesn’t stop to speak to me. He rounds it, takes the step up to the platform, and reaches for my wrist.

“William,” I snap as he tugs me forward. He looks both ways as if crossing a street, which is ironic, considering he charged right across the legitimate road outside and continues to drag me down the main aisle of my store.

“Got any customers in here?” he asks as he leads me toward the back, and I hustle to keep pace with him.

“No,” I answer too quickly. It’s Monday afternoon. Several businesses are closed on Monday, allowing themselves a break from the weekend visitors, but I like to remain open. I consider it my business day. Inventory checks. Restocking. Basic accounting. “But what are you doing?”

He tugs at my wrist in a way that I spin to face him, backing me up between travel books and writing manuals. His other hand comes for the nape of my neck, and he responds, “The ungentlemanly thing.”

His mouth crushes against mine. It’s a battle of wills for a moment. Mine is under surprise attack. His is out for total control. Eventually, we find common ground, and then we lower for it. His mouth is taking mine as if I’m the air he needs to breathe, and the pressure of his kiss is dragging me to the floor, literally. He lowers to his knees, bringing me with him, refusing to remove his mouth while keeping his grip on the back of my neck. Dammit. I hate when he’s right. He is the best kisser I’ve ever experienced. This, of course, reminds me of the other night, and how he reminded me he’s kissed many.

“Billy,” I mutter against his mouth as my knees hit the hardwood. We kneel while kissing.

“No talking,” he states against my mouth and continues to devour me. I’m leaning back at his insistence, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back with Billy’s knee between my thighs. Oh God, this is crazy. I’m not thinking about how unsanitary it might be on the hardwood flooring, or the fact we are on the floor in my place of business. All I can concentrate on is Billy Harrington over me and his mouth against mine.

“Billy, slow down,” I whimper. He’s going to eat me alive if he keeps going at this pace, and I’m not complaining, but something isn’t right. He’s too adamant for this kiss. Too determined. He pulls back but only enough. I can still feel his breath brushing my lips. His forehead rests against mine. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes close, and he rolls his forehead gently over mine as my hands reach for the scruff of his jaw.

“So many things,” he says. I swallow the sting. Am I one of the things wrong in his life? Is it Sadie? Is it all too much? Before I can ask my questions, his mouth returns to mine. “Just keep kissing me.”

I’m lost to his lips for another few seconds, allowing him to take what he needs from me as I feel equally desperate to receive what he’s giving. His mouth on mine. Hands on me. His knee between my thighs. Without thought, I rock against the broad curve against my core, the friction like a spark to forgotten flint. My sex clenches. It won’t be enough. I want to rub my entire body against his. The sound of a high-pitched ping filters to my ears.

“I hear bells,” I mutter against his mouth.

He chuckles against my lips. “That’s a new one,” he teases. We continue to kiss a second before his words register. It’s another reminder he’s been with so many, and I push at his shoulders.

“Dammit, Billy, why do you have to ruin everything?” The question stops him short, and he pulls back slowly as a scratchy feminine voice calls out my name.