Lips twisting in thought, she mulled over how to respond. It was apparent she was trying to keep our “relationship” vague. I wouldn’t fight her on it. I wasn’t looking for anything serious either but could use a release before my big day tomorrow.
“Let’s just say I’m in communications.” That could mean anything from public relations to social media to marketing to broadcasting. And fuck me, if she happened to be in front of a camera, I would be renewing my cable subscription to watch.
“Sounds like a fun enough job.” I gave her a smile, not pressing further.
“I get to do what I love while making a living. Can’t complain,” she remarked. “What about you?”
Oh boy. Since the injury, she was the first woman I’d encountered in Indy who didn’t look at me like a washed-up has-been. How did I vaguely convey that I was the head coach/former player of the city’s professional hockey team?
Aha! I got it!
“I’m in management,” I blurted out a little too enthusiastically for the mood of the conversation.
“Hmm.” She hummed. “So, you boss people around all day long?”
She wasn’t far off from the truth. “Something like that.”
Leaning closer, she whispered, “I like bossy.”
Gripping the back of her neck, I hauled her face a breath away from mine. “Is that so?” My voice took on a gravelly quality.
“Uh-huh.” Her breath fanned my face.
She was giving off all the right signals, but I was still a touch gun-shy. My next move could either prove right on the money or have her slapping me across the face. But I was too far gone to stop now.
Closing the barely-there gap between us, I crushed my lips to hers. Instantly, she opened, granting me access, and my tongue tangled with hers, swallowing her moans. She shifted, trying to get closer, and when her knee barely grazed my jean-clad cock, I hissed.
I already regretted not rubbing one out in the shower earlier. She was probably used to boys who blew their loads too quickly, and I wanted to be the one to teach her how a grown man fucked, pleasuring her for hours on end and making her scream. Maybe I could sneak off to the bathroom to handle business—it wouldn’t take long—but I couldn’t risk her leaving while I was gone.
Fuck, I was stuck between a rock and a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.
Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging my head to the side so she could change the angle of our kiss. The way she used her tongue with confidence, I could tell she wasn’t shy and wasn’t inexperienced, which would bode well for me later. I could make love; it just wasn’t my favorite. And I wanted nothing more than to dive right in with this girl and fuck her senseless. I wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d forgotten the name she refused to give me.
When we finally came up for air, both of us panting, I noticed the waitress had dropped off our round of whiskey.
Needing to cool off, I tipped the glass to my lips, letting the liquor burn a path down my throat. Placing the empty glass on the table, I took a deep breath, only to find my beautiful companion and hopeful future bed partner staring at me with her mouth open.
I quirked an eyebrow in silent question, and she finally gained her bearings, a sultry smile curving her lips.
“You know what they say about a man who can shoot his whiskey straight, don’t you?”
“No. Tell me,” I commanded, my voice gone gruff.
“That he’s not afraid to go down on a woman.” Her blue eyes flared, and I about damn near swallowed my tongue—a tongue I would have no qualms using between her thighs if given the opportunity.
“That’s an interesting theory,” I teased, reaching down and pulling her chair flush with mine. Her breathing hitched, and my chest rumbled before declaring, “Any man who’s afraid of burying his face in a pussy isn’t worth your time, sweetheart.”
Her swallow was audible. I was so close to ending this little game and taking her home. I just needed to hear her verbal confirmation that she wanted it too.
Taking her own whiskey, she shot it straight back, the same as I’d done mine. An errant drop of the amber liquid slid down from the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darted out to catch it. I groaned, and she smirked back at me.
Dipping my head beside her ear, I said, “Tell me, love, are you a moaner or a curser?”
“What?” Her reply was dazed and breathless.
“When you’re about to come, do you start moaning or cursing?”
A shaky breath flew past her lips, and she dropped a hand to my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze. “How about you find out for yourself?”
