But I zone them all out when I notice a man approaching the woman I can’t keep my eyes off. He pushes his way between her and the occupied seat next to her, invading everybody’s space.
She backs up and gives him a nervous smile as he lays out some sort of cheesy line, I’m sure. The guy in the stool pushes him which knocks him into her, and his drink sloshes out of the glass, landing on her and the bar.
I’m out of my seat before I can question why, and making my way over to her.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, then reaches for a napkin to wipe the liquid from her chest. “At least it was clear, right?” she says with a soft chuckle.
I give her a smile, then look for my brother. “Royce!” I put my hand up. “Napkins?”
Royce rushes over with a handful of napkins, then takes out his rag and cleans up the bar. The guy who came to hit on her has taken her seat, and not even bothered to apologize.
“Thanks,” she says, after I hand her the napkins.
“Looks like he stole your seat,” I tell her. “I can have him move if you want it back.”
She shakes her head. “Probably not worth the drama. I can sit at this table back here,” she says, pointing to an empty booth.
I come up next to the seat thief and grab the new drink Royce replaced already. “Are you not going to apologize to the woman?” I ask.
He looks up at me, his eyes red and glassy. “What?”
I eye Royce, who’s still wiping up the mess and decide I don’t want to cause a scene in his bar.
“Just watch yourself,” I tell him, taking the glass and handing it to the woman who’s still pressing napkins to her shirt.
She walks to the booth, and I stand nearby, wondering if I should stick around or not.
“You can join me,” she says softly. “I’m not here with anyone.”
I slide into the seat across from her. “You new here?”
“Yep. Is it that obvious?”
I grin. “It’s a small town. I’d have remembered seeing you before.”
She blushes, her lips drawing up into a smile. “Oh. Yeah, I haven’t been here long.”
Cillian saunters over and puts my drink on the table. “Thought you might want this,” he says, giving me a wink before he walks away.
“My brother,” I tell her.
“Ah,” she says, lifting her chin up.
“What’s your name?”
“Nova. What’s yours?”
“Elijah.”
“Elijah,” she repeats. “I like that name.”
“I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.”
She blushes again then takes a sip of her drink.
We spend the next hour drinking and talking about inconsequential things.
“Where’s the best place to eat in this town?” she asks.
“Besides my house?”
She grins, then bites down on her lip. “Do you make breakfast?” Mischief twinkles in her eyes, and I know instantly what she’s getting at.
“Yes, I can make breakfast.”
“Can I find good entertainment at your house, too?”
I lean forward and swipe my tongue across my bottom lip. “Entertainment is my specialty.”
She finishes her drink, and I gulp down the rest of mine. When I stand up, I reach for her hand and help her out of her seat.
The tight black jeans she has on showcase her slim waist, wide hips, and thick thighs. The shirt she’s wearing fits her like a glove and rides up a bit, showing off her flawless skin. The pair of heels she’s wearing give her a few more inches but still leaves her several inches shorter than my six-foot frame.
I leave her near the door and go back to the bar to pay for the drinks. As I’m waiting for Royce, I remove my phone from my pocket and order a Lyft. “I’m leaving,” I tell the group. “Thanks for inviting me out.”
Cillian gives me a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, you’re fucking welcome.”
When it starts taking too long before any of the bartenders becomes free, I hand my money to Cill and tell him to pay for me.
Once I get back to Nova, we step outside and don’t have to wait more than a minute before the Lyft arrives.
Ten minutes later, we pull up to my house.
2
Once inside, I finally do what I’ve been wanting to do since Cillian pointed her out to me. I step forward and pull her body in to me, planting my lips on hers.
She moans into my mouth as our tongues dance together, both of us tasting of liquor. Her free hand rests on my back, pushing me into her as I cradle her head in one hand while the other one rests on her hip.
I step back, ready to get to the bed, and escort her up the stairs and into my room. She steps out of her heels and places her wallet and phone on my dresser, then comes toward me as I’m taking off my shirt.
Her palms rest on my chest before trailing down my stomach, then come to a stop at the waist of my jeans. She pops the button open and unzips the zipper.
I lean down, angling my head to capture her mouth once again. Her hand slides into my boxer briefs and grabs my growing erection.
My groan mixes with her moan, then we’re both frantically trying to rid ourselves of our clothes.
Our lips and tongues come together in a desperate frenzy. We may not be completely drunk, but the alcohol is fueling and heightening the sexual desire. We’re drunk on endorphins. Our hands explore every part of the other person while our mouths barely disconnect. We topple onto the mattress, and I reach into my night table for a condom.
After sheathing myself, I don’t waste any time. As much as I usually enjoy taking the time to tease and please, my desperation to bury myself inside
