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Mak stood behind the bar, watching every move he made with a pensive gleam in her eye, and lips pressed thin as though she was studying the behavior of a new species she didn’t understand.
Huh, not exactly the heated, fuck-me-now vibes he’d been shooting for, but not a brush off, either. He could work with neutral. Hell, how long had it been since he’d had to put any effort into getting laid? Shit, had he ever? Could be fun.
“Were you talking about me?” She asked as she tilted her head. Most of the subtle gloss on her mouth had worn off her bottom lip as though she’d been gnawing at it recently—arousal from watching him dance, no doubt.
“Talking ’bout you when, babe?” He smiled at her. For some reason, her expression didn’t change. The tense set of her shoulders didn’t loosen, either. What the hell? Women always reacted to his smile. They lost their fucking minds. Maybe he was drunker than he’d thought, and the booze was making his face contort in an unsexy way.
“When you said you had some, uh, some p-pussy lined up for tonight.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper on the word pussy. “Did you mean me?”
She didn’t sound angry, disgusted, or appalled in any way. Then again, she sure as fuck didn’t sound interested. She came across as…curious. Like he was some science project, she’d been assigned to work out.
Maybe she just needed another of his patented grins. This time he made sure her gaze was on his mouth before he shot it her way. “Sure did, babe. Wanna take off for a bit? Betcha Monty can handle the bar without you for thirty minutes or so.”
Without so much as cracking a smile, she glanced at the other end of the bar where Monty stood, observing them with a frown. “Uh, thank you, but I’m good.”
Thunder blinked. Surely, he’d misheard.
She’s good?
She was good?
What the actual fuck? Sure, she was good now, but she’d be fucking great after he made her come a time or two in the next half hour.
For the first time in his entire fucking life, a female had rendered him speechless. His mouth opened, then closed again. Frankly, he had no idea how to respond. He didn’t want to be an arrogant asshole, but women paid for the privilege of having his cock.
Literally paid money—lots of it every now and again.
He’d have understood more if she came across as disgusted by his dance. At least then he’d know she wasn’t his type. Too pure, too prudish, too stuffy. But she just acted so…indifferent. As though she could take it or leave it. No skin off her back.
“Here.” With a sweet smile that he wanted to fucking lick, she held out a large glass of ice water. “I’m sure you need this. Enjoy the rest of your night. And congratulations again, Thunder.”
Then she walked down the bar, getting asked to serve up a drink almost immediately.
Thunder ran a hand through his damp hair. She’d been interested, dammit. He’d caught the goddamn attraction in her gaze not twenty minutes before. And she’d anticipated he’d be thirsty and brought him a drink.
Sweet, cute, and attracted to him.
But then, she’d turned her back on him and went about her job as though he didn’t exist.
What. The. Fuck.
Maybe she didn’t understand what he’d meant when he asked her to take thirty and leave with him.
Yeah, that had to be it.
What else could it be?
CHAPTER SIX
IT SEEMED AS though every person in the clubhouse worked up as much of a thirst as Thunder had during his little…performance.
After he disappeared, the bar grew so busy, Mak barely had one second to obsess about Thunder’s blatant and erotic offer. Could it even be called an offer? Really, it was an assumption. An arrogantly made assumption that she’d be in his bed…if he even wanted a bed. God, he’d told that half-naked woman he already had some pussy lined up for the evening.
He’d spoken with such confidence. As if it were a forgone conclusion she’d be sleeping with him. Sure, she was ignorant when it came to the whole hook-up game, as her brother called it, but…had she given him some sort of confirmation without knowing it?
Weirdest part of the whole encounter was how he didn’t come off as an asshole. The guy wasn’t a cocky jerk. He’d just been one hundred percent convinced she’d hop over the bar and run off with him for sex.
That was what he’d wanted, right?
Had she read the situation wrong?
Ugh. She’d been dying for a break from the insanity of the bar for the last hour and a half, and now that she had fifteen minutes to herself, all she wanted was to be busy enough to distract herself. Because, in reality, she’d wanted to say yes to Thunder, and that’s what had her mind spiraling out of control. For the first time in her twenty-three years, she wanted to strip off her clothes and be touched by a man.
