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I nod, my breath coming in shallow gulps. This man is pure temptation, wrapped in desire, dipped in lust. Like some crazy-sexy man-chocolate snack.
He strokes his black stubble with his hand and raises his eyes to mine. There's only desire in his expression, not pity or embarrassment or pain. Thank God.
"Came here specifically to see you, Kate."
In my mind, I'm jumping up and down, hands in the air, cheering. Shit sandwich, find someone else's dinner plate. In reality, I chuckle and stare into those eyes that are not only the color of Johnnie Walker Black, but as intoxicating as a double shot of it, too.
His grin is positively wicked. "Maybe you can join me for a drink later. After you close."
Foom. I feel as though I've been lit on fire. Never mind I'm not supposed to be drinking. I suspect Damien Hastings could entice me into doing many things that aren't good for me, and I'd love every second.
"Yeah, I'd like that. A lot."
kate
. . .
"You wanna join us?We're going clubbing."
I twist my head away from the shelf, where I'm stacking the last of the clean pint glasses.
I'd almost forgotten Jane and those two bikers were still here because I'm so wrapped up in conversation with the only other person left: Damien.
He's at the end of the bar, studying my every move with those intense eyes. We've been talking about everything and nothing over the past hour. The weather, his siblings, people we knew in high school. Banal stuff.
All while eyeing each other.
"Kate? Earth to Kate?" Jane's at the door, staring at me expectantly. The bikers look like rabid raccoons in leather jackets. Long noses, deep-set eyes, furry. I don't know if they're talking about a dance club, a Sons of Anarchy-type motorcycle club place or actually physically beating other human beings with clubs.
And I don't care, because I have a sweet-tempered, raven-haired Marine waiting for me at the end of the bar.
"Nah, she's with me tonight."
Jane, the bikers, and I swivel our heads in Damien's direction.His firm, deep voice and self-assured smirk announced to the world what's on his mind.Oh yeah.
And just like that, I'm crushing on him hard, all over again.
I break into a grin and stack the final glass on their rack. Then slip from around the bar to stand near Damien.
"I'm with him tonight." I jerk my head in his direction.
"Too bad. We're headed to the mainland on the bikes," one of the biker-raccoons says.
Damien doesn't say a word. He slides his arm across my shoulders and pulls me toward him a few inches.
"Didn't get a chance to hug you before," he murmurs. "C'mere."
A fresh wave of giddiness washes over me. Right then, Spotify plays The Strokes, a raw and smoky song that was popular the year Damien and I kissed.
I'm with him tonight.
The very words I'd longed to say out loud in high school. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and hug him tight, burying my nose in the skin near his ear. He smells like spicy lime soap. Irish Spring, possibly. I inhale deep.Yum. His palms press against my mid-back. Not in a sexual way, but in a protective,I've-got-you-girliekinda way.
My word, being in his arms feelsahh-maz-ing.
I reluctantly break away but Damien keeps one hand on my back.
Jane sniggers and eyeballs us. "Gotcha. See you, Kate. Tell your mom I said hi."
