Page 10 of Tamed By A Knight
My silence prompts him to speak again.
“How about you apologize and we can get on with our night?” he insists.
A wiser man might’ve accepted the offer. Said sorry for something he didn’t do, move on, and be done with it. Good thing no one’s ever accused me of being wise.
“No.” This is still Knight Rider territory, even if the bar isn’t one we frequent. But three fools swinging their dicks around in some show of masculinity must mean they aren’t aware of who runs the place.
New in town. Factory workers, perhaps. Nobodies trying to assert dominance where they have none.
“No?” His eyes narrow to thin slits, nostrils flaring.
“Here’s your change.” The barman’s voice hits the back of my head.
“Keep it.” I’d rather give away the eight bucks than turn my back on these three. Not in the mood to take a cheap shot to the back of the skull. The bartender gives thanks and shuffles off. “As for you three, go back to your table. Drink your drinks. Enjoy your night. Forget you saw my face, and I’ll forget about your barking. Are we clear?”
Stubbles’ face softens, and he erupts in a raucous belly laughter. The two behind him join in. “You’re a funny man. Real funny. But just remember, I never forget a face. And forgiving ain’t in my nature.”
They leave, and so do I, back to my table where Tara waits. Her beauty and smile going a long way in soothing my ill temper.
6
TARA
Questions answered with monosyllable responses. Hush is closed off, sitting with crossed arms and a thousand-yard stare. But worst of all, silence fills the void unless I’m talking.
I should be used to it with him. He’s not much of a talker at the best of times, but with how well things started when we got here, I hate seeing him lost inside his own head.
Well, Detective Tara’s on the case, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this and pull him out of his bad mood.
“What’s got you so down in the dumps?” Straightforward and to the point is how I operate. Dancing around tension leads to much worse outcomes.
“Nothi—"
“The guys at the bar?” An intrigued brow raises as I cut him off without thinking. Of course, it was them. Hush looked fine until they spoke to him.
He answers with a half nod, groaning.
“Rider business?” I shouldn’t ask, but curiosity is getting the better of me. I’ve known Hush for months, but he’s held all things Knight Rider close to his chest.
“No, but don’t worry about them. I’ll wait for ‘em to kick up more dirt before I handle it.” He shrugs.
“Fine, but if I accept that you’re not going to tell me,” —sliding out of my seat and moving into the one next to Hush, I can’t hide the smile growing on my face. I just pray it won’t give my intentions away— “I won’t accept you being all doom and gloom by yourself, either.”
His eyes follow me as I cross the gap from opposite to beside him, settling between my eyes when I’m seated again.
“I’m sorry.” He snaps his head to the other side of the room. Allowing him to continue, I slide my hands under the table. “I didn’t want to ruin the night, but…” He trails off as my fingers brush over his knee, circling his muscular thigh until my palms cup tightly against it. “What are you doing?”
“Me? Nothing at all,” I say with as much sultry flare as I can muster. “Just trying to help you relieve some stress.”
I walk my fingers along the inside of his thigh, while my palm slides along with it. His body tenses the closer I get to his manhood, already throbbing and bulging against his jeans.
“See?” I continue. “The best way to get rid of that pent-up tension is to get it out. And I’ve got it under good authority that men, especially those in harsh professions like yours, store most of their tension in the balls.” My shit talking is enough to put a smile on Hush’s face. A step in the right direction, considering the deep creases his intense frown left on his forehead.
“What do you suggest then, doctor?” Hush asks, leaning back in his chair and separating his legs to give me easier access to the rock-hard slab in the middle.
My momma used to say the easiest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And with the way my dad looked, pot belly and smiling from sun up to sun down, I believe her. But what I’ve learned is that the easiest way to settle the storm brewing inside them is through their cock.
There isn’t a thing in this world that can’t be remedied with a well-timed stroke. Hush molding like putty beneath my fingertips reaffirms the point, and by the end of the night, he’ll have forgotten all about the guys at the bar giving him trouble.
