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He stands, pressing our foreheads together, kissing my nose. His rigid cock pushes against where his face was, leaving me with the distinct impression it isn’t on board with his latest negotiating tactics.
“Cary?” I question whether he’s come to his senses and is about to help me regain my own.
My palm caresses his cheek, drawing his hazel eyes to focus on my brown ones.
“You’re right, Holly. We’re literally surrounded by garbage cans and you’re worth more than a back alley fuck.”
“So that’s it? We’re not?”
“Not here, anyway. Later? Someplace a little less… smelly?” He alleviates my confusion and I reward him with a soft smile.
He shakes his head with a goofy turned serious grin, caging my body against the exterior club wall. “You don’t wanna know what runs through my head when you smile at me like that, Hol.”
“There’s a party afterward for Kimber. You could stay and tell me…”Show me,my voice trails suggestively.
“I’ll stick around on one condition. I need a plus one for Glen’s wedding.”
“You want to take me on a date?” His tactic surprises me.
“I didn’t sputter when I mentioned not wanting to fly solo.” Lowering his mouth to my ear, the scruff of his beard sets me on fire again. “And if you’re set on me fucking you tonight, I can guarantee the next evening we’re together will end with my cock buried inside you.”
My hard nipples scrape the soft cotton of my shirt when I let out a sharp inhale. It hurts, but not as bad as the unsatiated throbbing in my core.
He turns his face. “So, are you in?”
Rendered speechless, my chin bobs in agreement.
If I thought the last three hours on my feet were torture, the next are murderous. What’s worse is my willingness to forget the warning signals flashing red to remind me Cary is out of bounds. He doesn’t return to the bachelor party but takes up residence next to Trig and they strike up a conversation. It carries through Kimber’s husband walking behind the bar to refill their drinks as customers slam us with orders.
Near the end of the rush, Morgan escorts Aidy up to the bar. He stands a few feet behind her while she asks for a water. Cary tacks on a second for himself and adds both of them to his ever-growing tab. My position is closer to the cooler, so it’s an easy reach for the bottles. Aidy and I thank him.
Trig doesn’t miss the lingering touch when Cary accepts his drink from me.
He chuckles, thanking Cary for a third time. “Aidy lives in my house. There’s nothing more important than taking care of the women in your life. Trust me when I say trust her.”
I catch Trig pointing at me as I scurry away to fill another glass. I can’t decipher the rest over the din of the crowd. However, aware Iama sure thing, I’ve also felt Cary’s eyes lingering on every inch of my body and his agitation each time the club’s patrons flirt with me. It’s left me wondering how to prove to Cary it’s him I want.
After last call, the club empties, and the house lights blaze on for the overnight crew to begin cleaning. I get to the job of stocking right away, so I can enjoy the party for Kimber. Cece rounds behind the bar with Dusty carrying the usual cases of liquor we go through like water.
“Go.” She prods. “I owe you this.”
I have no clue what Cece is talking about, but hell if I’m passing up the chance to sneak off while everyone is following her lead.
Cary’s shuffling top-shelf rum to fit in the row. He must think it’s normal to pitches in. He snags a bottle with an aged pirate ship and hums, “Have you tasted this brand?”
“Sure I have. It’s the bee’s knees. The distillery is smaller and in demand now, so we have a hard time getting it and don’t let on that we serve it unless someone asks. The owner gets persnickety when we run out.” I put the bottle back, motioning for Cary to come along.
Jake’s office is in the same hall as the dancer’s dressing room. It perpetually smells of Italian leather and expensive cologne… and sex.
In the middle of the room there’s a desk with a closed laptop on it. A couch is jammed against the left wall that’s been painted a dark wine. From one side to the other on the perpendicular walls old posters dating back decades cover the mirrors. They feature the dancers who used to perform here like Kimber and Cece, “Sweet” Caroline herself, and Carver’s mother. The very center both in front and behind the desk is open and I can see our reflection.
I walk around the desk and move the computer. Cary is on my heels, so by the time I turn to face him, he’s pinned my upper thighs to the desktop. I sit back, spreading my legs and letting Cary into my space. He’s giving me a cocky-assed grin and I shoot one back.
“How the fuck did you figure me out?” His hardness edges closer, exactly where I want to feel it.
I stay silent. Cary likes to watch and, when the alleyway didn’t happen, catering to his proclivities was the quick and obvious answer to reignite the mood. I’m glad the stars aligned to pull it off. The next best private space to choose from would have been a broom closet.
Cary tips my chin up and our lips meet. The kiss is softer than before. He takes his time exploring my mouth and caressing down my arms. The shivers it creates excite me. My grip pulls him closer. I inch his shirt up in the back to touch his muscles and my other set of fingers plays with the short hair at the nape of his neck. I love the way his body feels under my hands.
