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Chapter Eight
Lula
Vale brings me to a bar called The Coyote.
I don’t have a fake ID, but the bouncer takes one look at Vale and doesn’t question him leading me inside. He was right about it being dark in here. Comfortably so. There are flickering hurricane candleholders on every table, lit in a pale yellow glow. A cover band plays at the back of the expansive space, the sound of a harmonica pleasing to the ear. On the left, there is a scattering of tables occupied by couples and groups of friends. To the right is a long bar and that’s where Vale brings me, all the way to the corner where he positions me against the wall, blocking me in with his big body.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s pinning every customer at the bar with a steely glare. “Vale.” Laughing, I tug his elbow. “What are you doing?”
“Letting them know you’re mine. That you’re leaving with the same man you walked in with.” Out of sight, he settles a hand on my bottom, shaping it roughly. And after a moment, his intense blue eyes find mine through the low lighting. “Never felt like this, Lula. I’m worried what I’ll do if someone looks at you. Mine.”
I play with the middle button of his shirt, surprised how easily I’m flirting with Vale. I wasn’t lying when I told him I’ve rarely flirted in the past, but now…now I’m not worried he’ll be uncomfortable with my intentions. He’s made it clear he’s attracted to me. That he finds me desirable. And I’m starting to feel that way. I never would have worn this outfit before yesterday, but I love the way it makes me feel. Feminine and sexy and a little naughty. As if being out at a bar, illegally, with my stepbrother isn’t more than enough naughtiness for one night. “How about you look only at me, Vale, then you won’t know what anyone else is doing?” I bite my lip and twist the button of his shirt. “And it won’t even matter.”
His breath releases in a rocky rush. “Fuck, you were tempting before, but now…Lula, you’re blossoming. You’re going to bring me to my knees.”
I can hear Santana and Jess in the back of my mind, cheering me on. “Maybe you’ll bring me to my knees,” I murmur, heat racing up my cheeks. Who am I anymore?
“Lula,” he moans, dropping his forehead to mine. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t hint that you might suck my cock when I promised myself I’d give you a proper date.”
“Okay,” I say, breathlessly, my confidence growing at an exponential rate, excitement filling my tummy with fizzy bubbles. “I guess I’ll just think about it,” I say teasingly, dragging a finger down the thick slope of his muscular chest, continuing downward, scratching my nails against his belly button. “How it’ll taste. How deep I can take—”
His mouth cuts me off with a growl and I’m backed into the wall, his fingers burrowing into my hair, his tongue licking deeply, past my teeth, stroking, stroking, stroking. He curls a hand under my left knee and jerks up my legs, notching his hardness flush to my sex, rocking roughly, his hard exhale bathing my wet, swollen moth. I’m up on my tiptoes and he lifts me higher now, off the ground. Are we going to have sex in this dark bar? It certainly feels like it—and knowing I made this powerful man lose control is a heady feeling. Exhilarating.
“Can I, uh…” A man to my right clears his throat. “Get you two a drink?”
We break apart, breathing hard. Vale looks almost delirious, and for some reason, I cannot keep the smile off my face. Look what I can do! Unfortunately, my smile also seems to harden Vale’s resolve. He plants a solid kiss on my forehead and throws a nod at the bartender. “I’ll have a beer. Whatever pilsner is on tap. And she’ll have…”
“A dirty martini, please,” I say brightly.
When the bartender walks away to fix our drinks, Vale lunges at me, growling into my neck, and a laugh bursts out of me. “I’ll give you a dirty martini.”
He tickles my ribs and I squeal. “I wish you would.”
“Lula. I’m hanging by a thread.” Suddenly, he picks up me up by the waist and drops me into a stool. I’m still reeling from the utter delight of being manhandled with such ease when my stepbrother hits me with a stern look. “Behave.”
“For now?”
His lips twitch with mirth, and my God, he’s so mind-bogglingly hot with that baseball cap pulled low on his forehead and dark blond hair sticking out at the sides, I have to sigh.
“For now,” he agrees, kissing me softly. With promise.
A few minutes later, the bartender drops off our drinks. Vale stands between my thighs, his left hand resting on my hip, his back to the rest of the bar. He hands me my drink with a skeptical light in his eye. A second later, I found out why. I sip the mixture of vodka and pickle juice, immediately wanting to spit it out. Vale chuckles, taking back the martini and setting it on the bar. Then he tips his beer to my lips to get rid of the after taste.
