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“Brings me right back,” I tell him with a grin. “I missed this shit.”
He shakes his head incredulously and I laugh. I know people don’t get it, but sex is an art and working in sex, when you love it as much as I do, is actually pretty amazing. Sure, there are bad parts, but that’s the case with any job.
“Yo, Kill, drink,” a voice says from behind me and my back goes a little straighter.
Shooting the tequila, I slam the glass down and pick up the beer before turning to Sergio’s ugly mug. I’m sure other girls would find him attractive, but somehow being viciously raped by someone doesn’t equate to much sexual appeal. Go figure.
“Hello, handsome,” I say, instead of all the other things I’d like to say or do. Like, you know, poking him in the gut fifty times with a rusty nail.
Sergio grins down at me. “Make that two, Kill.”
Killian nods and places two shots in front of us, giving me what’s quickly becoming his signature look before moving down the bar.
“Cheers.”
I slam down the second shot, grateful for my alcohol tolerance.
“I gotta admit, baby. I remember that fine ass from the other night, but what’s yer name again?”
“I’m Echo, sweet stuff. And you are?”
“Sergio, I run this place.”
I resist the urge to snort at his boasting, but decide to fuck with him a bit instead.
“I thought Neil ran this place,” I comment sweetly, reaching forward to grab my beer and take another sip.
Sergio starts saying something but I’m not really listening. I see a man who I don’t recognize heading up the stairs to the back. My eyes narrow slightly as they follow him until he’s out of sight, and I realize Sergio just asked me a question.
“Umm, sorry, what?”
Sergio lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle and leans in. “I said, you want to party?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. And here I was worried it’d be hard to get close to them.
“Serg, now,” another voice says before I can respond.
I turn to see the same man from before, now at the bottom of the stairs. Sergio replies back in rapid Spanish I don’t understand, and they both laugh. Shooting his drink, he turns back to me.
“Another time.” He puts his shot glass down and walks away, leaving me sitting there. Again. I watch as he follows the other man upstairs and I have to hold back a sigh.
“You want another?” Killian asks, breaking me from my disappointment. I nod and chug the last of my beer.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” he replies, standing in front of me. He hesitates a moment, but nods toward the stage. “You were great up there.”
My smile turns more genuine. “Thank you,” I say again.
He smiles, small but true, and I feel a small flutter in my stomach.
And who said work crushes weren’t fun?
Chapter Four
Can’t Get You Out of My Head
Killian
