Page 114 of Red Marked

We head out.

I would have loved to order in and done wicked things to my soon-to-be new boss.

Oh well!

35

Flint

The door sticks, and I have to shove it open. Star ducks under my arm and walks in ahead of me, and I make the mistake of looking down.

Her ass in those damned blue jeans is something else.

They sit low on her hips and hug everything, and the sequins on that top stop right above the waistband. It has thin straps and dips low down her back. She isn’t wearing a bra. I don’t have to look at her back to know it. Her tits are framed by sequins. Why do they have to be so bouncy? Why are her nipples so damned plump?

She turns and smiles at me over her shoulder, red hair swinging.

Holy shit.

Star asked me to fuck her, and I said no.

I said no.

What the hell is wrong with me? Even now, I’m tempted to take it back. To put my hand on that strip of skin, turn her around, and walk her straight back to the hotel.

I can’t, though.

I won’t.

Everything I said still stands.

The jukebox is halfway through something with too much bass, and the place is pretty busy, reminding me it’s Friday night. Every male head in the room turns, one by one, like dominoes. There are easily eight males to every one female.

I push my chest out like an asshole and step in close behind her, one hand hovering at her back without touching, and I stare at every single one of them until they find something else to look at.

They can fuck right off.

She might not be mine, but they can’t fucking have her. Or even think about having her, for that matter.

“Should we take a booth?” she asks. “There’s one over there.”

“Sounds good.”

I steer her to the one at the back, up a step, with a view of the whole room. She slides in, and I take the side facing the door.

A waitress is on us before Star has picked up a menu. She’s blond, human, in her early twenties, in a low-cut black top. She puts two menus down without looking at Star. Her eyes are firmly on me.

“Hey there.” She tilts her head, all smiles. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Well, welcome back.” She rests a hip against the table. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Two beers,” I say. “Whatever’s on tap.”

“Coming right up.” She lets her nails trail the edge of the table as she goes.

Star watches her walk off. Then she looks at me, and there’s laughter behind her eyes. I pick up the menu and start reading, even though I know what I’m having. It’s awkward. At least it is for me.