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Besides, it wasn’t this guy’s fault she’d had such a craptastic evening. Hell, if he’d gone to Middlemarch High, he might have been a friend. Surely she’d had a few of those, other than Kelly.
Right? She leaned on the bar and stifled the urge to brush the hair off his forehead.
His eyes narrowed and hers widened as a memory teased her mind. But she couldn’t grab it, any more than she could keep from sliding her feet apart on the rung of the barstool. She knew he noticed the subtle invitation from his deep exhale.
Alana rubbed her lips together, savoring the last of the tequila. “Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
She blinked as he stepped closer and infused her personal space with his unusual scent. Crisp aftershave and … faintly, ink. Weird. But also irresistible.
No wonder she always got into trouble. Her addiction to men knew no bounds.
He slid one muscular thigh between hers and her knees fell open like the gates to Graceland, granting him instantaneous admission. She was surprised she managed not to whimper fuck me like the eager, uh … beaver she knew she must look like.
“Did you like the drink?” His voice rumbled along her nerve endings, the deep baritone vibrating straight into her pussy.
“Patron’s my favorite.” Her phone went off in her hand, but she couldn’t quite coordinate her arm to lift it to her ear.
Whether she was buzzed, desperate or just horny, she didn’t know. Right now her overactive libido couldn’t differentiate.
“I want a taste.”
He leaned down and she leaned back, giving herself a little room to think. This wasn’t smart. Rebound flings never worked out. Celibacy was where it was at.
Problem was, she wanted him. Wanted someone. She wasn’t like Kelly, who could go ages without sex. It had already been several months since Alana last touched Ramon. She was overdue. Overripe. She needed the thrill of an appreciative man’s touch as much as she needed her morning jolt of java.
And he was here, ready, willing— her fingers brushed the thick hardness behind his zipper— and more than able.
So what was she waiting for? Maybe crying suited some women, but she’d always been one to hop right back on the horse. Preferably bareback.
She closed the space between them and, forgoing subtlety, dove in for the mother of all kisses. Mmm. Heat punched into her— a quick, swift jab that left her reeling. She gasped and clutched his T- shirt, clamping her lips over his again before more sounds escaped. His tongue invaded her mouth, hot and all- consuming.
Want. Need. Bad.
Everything inside her opened and liquefied, her body seeking his warmth and the unyielding strength his muscles promised. Her hands slid along his hips to grab his denim- clad behind. He had a nice butt and she’d always had a weakness for a good ass.
Weakness for everything …
“Tastes good.” He licked the corner of her lips then nuzzled the underside of her jaw. “This a regular hangout of yours?”
“Not regular enough apparently.”
That made him smile. And what a smile it was. Slow, sure, sexy. While they gazed at each other, he cupped her breast. Obviously he no longer expected her to stop him.
“Where can we go?”
Her nipple pushed into his palm, stiff and yearning. He rolled the tip between his thumb and forefinger and she arched, fresh arousal soaking her panties. She’d never been ready this fast with Ramon. Or anyone.
With tantalizing slowness, she reclined against the bar and arched her hips. “Right here.”
Indecision wavered in the taut lines of his face. He looked around them at people talking and laughing, his ruddy hair haloed in blue. The spill of light made him look younger somehow. Almost innocent.
The strangest tightening sensation seized her chest. No. A trick of the light. He didn’t really look like him. Nicky hadn’t been this direct. For God’s sake, when he’d kissed her at the homecoming dance, he’d been shaking. She hadn’t looked back to see what he’d done after she fled like a coward, but she imagined he’d gone off to cower in a corner.
Such a bitch.
Thinking of homecoming was the last thing she needed tonight. She’d never been a saint, but using a guy like Nicky— who she’d known had a long- standing crush on her— to make her high school boyfriend jealous remained her lowest point. A small part of her had cared he would be hurt by her actions. The rest had wanted what she wanted.
Her boyfriend had swiftly dumped her and Nicky hadn’t talked to her again after that night, except at graduation when he’d left his phone number in her yearbook.
