Reaching up, I run my fingers through my hair, puffing up the curls my helmet had flattened. I lean forward and take one last look in my side mirror, double checking that my makeup still looks right. I apply another coat of lip gloss, even though I don’t really need to. I’m stalling. I know I’m stalling. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I know that once I step foot inside that bar, there will be no turning back.
The music thumps. Laughter pours through the propped open front door as I climb the wooden steps. Inside, throngs of people are gathered together in groups both big and small, all of them drinking, laughing and dancing. Everyone seems to be having a good time.
Approaching the polished wood counter of the bar, I motion for the bartender. “Gin and tonic, please,” I say. With a grin and a nod, he taps the bar with his knuckles and sets off to make my drink and I turn, taking in the Friday night festivities. I don’t recognize a soul in the room, and that’s a good thing. I don’t know how I would explain being here, dressed like this, to someone wondering where Jeremy is. Nobody would understand.
The bartender places my drink on the bar behind me and when I reach for my wallet, he holds up a hand. “It’s been taken care of,” he says, pointing down the length of the counter to a handsome man in a leather biker cut, whose eyes are pinned on me.
Feeling a shy heat creep across my skin, I hold the glass up in thanks and take a sip. The liquid barely touches my lips when a husky voice speaks into my ear, his warm breath fanning my hair and causing goosebumps to race across my flesh.
“You have an admirer.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I take in the gorgeous man standing so close, his unnaturally blue eyes pinned on me. Smirking, he tilts his head toward the man at the end of the bar, who now sits watching us with a frown on his face.
“Just one of many,” I reply, trying to appear coy and praying my nerves aren’t showing in my expression.
He reaches out and pulls the glass from my hand, his finger skimming across mine and sending a shiver through my body. “Let me buy you a new one.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply as he turns to the bartender, holding up two fingers. I take advantage of his momentary distraction and take him in. He’s tall. At least a foot taller than my five foot three. His dark hair is unruly in the most delicious, I want to run my fingers through it kind of way. The stubble on his chiseled jaw surrounds his full lips, telling me he hasn’t shaved for several days.
His dark grey Henley is taut across large biceps and a wide chest, but that’s as far as I get in my perusal before his attention is back on me. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
Laughter bubbles up and past my lips before I can stop it. I know it’s a come on, but tonight I just don’t care. I want to be his ‘gorgeous’. I want him to hit on me. He’s not going to have to work too hard. He stares back at me expectantly, waiting on an answer. Shit. My name. “Ummm … Chrissy,” I stutter, giving the first name that comes to mind. I can’t tell him my actual name. I’m not me tonight.
He arches a brow, his steel-blue eyes assessing me as he takes the fresh drinks off the bar. “Well, Chrissy,” he drawls, his tone telling me he knows damn well I didn’t give him my actual name. “You can call me Jake.”
I reach out, accepting the glass and grin. “I can, can I? What does everyone else call you?”
He chuckles, the glass just about to his lips and tilts his head to the side. “Not Jake.”
Okay then. Apparently, I’m not the only one keeping things a secret. I can deal with that. Grinning so wide that my cheeks hurt, I hold his eyes and take a sip. All thoughts of my children and my husband evaporate from my mind while I watch transfixed as his tongue darts out, licking the moisture from his lips.
“A toast,” he says, holding up his drink. “To meeting a beautiful woman.” It’s timed perfectly, a drop of cold moisture drips from the base of my glass, landing on the exposed swell of my breasts. The air around us seems to thicken with some sort of primal electricity as his eyes follow its progress until it disappears in my bared cleavage. “And to that fucking incredible shirt.”
The grin on my face turns into a full-on laugh, my hand coming up to wipe away the wetness from my skin. I had borrowed this shirt from my sister-in-law. This entire night had been her idea in the first place. It was a black leather-like material corset that laced up in the front, propping my tits up higher than I ever remember them being. They looked fantastic, and going by the hunger in his eyes, I’d say Jake thinks so too.
“So, Chrissy. You wanna dance?”
Tipping back my gin, I swallow it down in three large gulps, letting the liquid heat gather in my belly, giving me some much-needed courage. I can do this.
With the most seductive smile I can muster, I take his hand and lead him to the dance floor, putting an extra sway in my hips as I walk. I can feel his eyes on me. On my ass. I wore my favorite dark blue distressed jeans. The ones with the rhinestones on the back pockets. The ones Jeremy always says make my ass look irresistible.
The classic rock music pours through the speakers, the room vibrating with the bass. Holding onto one of Jake’s hands, I turn to face him and throw my free arm into the air, swaying my hips from side to side with the tempo of the music. Jake’s heated gaze takes me in as he moves in front of me, making me feel sexier than I’ve ever felt before.
As one, we sway and move our bodies brushing up against each other, the high-heeled boots I’m wearing putting me at the perfect height to feel his hard, seemingly large package against my belly as we dance. One song turns to another, and then another, the tempo changing with each tune, but our bodies never part. My hands roam his impressive arms and chest, his trailing along my back and resting on the curve of my ass.
I don’t know what I’d expected to feel when I’d come here tonight, leaving the home I share with my husband and children and come to this bar, intent on finding adventure, but this overwhelming awareness of my own sexuality wasn’t it. I feel lithe and sensual, beautiful and desirable. The need growing in Jake’s eyes with every thumping beat of the music only adds to my need to act on being the woman he sees, even if just for tonight.
My breaths are coming out in pants and gasps. His scent, leather and soap with just a hint of woodsy aftershave, intoxicates me. I want his hands on me. I want to put my hands all over him. Dancing so close in a room full of people is pure torture at this point. The people around us fade from existence as we move, and all I see is him.
Leaning up, I rest a hand on his shoulder and put my lips to his ear. “Let’s get out of here,” I say, surprised at the huskiness of my voice.
He pulls back and his eyes lock on mine, mirroring my own fervent restraint. With a wicked grin that rivals the slightly deranged smile of the Cheshire cat, he wings up an eyebrow and sinks his teeth into his lip. He stares at me for a moment and then literally whisks me off my feet. Before I know it, he bends at the waist, presses his broad shoulder to my belly and carries me toward the exit caveman style, hoots and hollers from our fellow bar patrons following us as I squeal with delight.
I’m not a tiny girl. I’m not exactly what some would call fat, though. I like to think of myself as curvy. Voluptuous even. But I have never been the girl that a man could carry around effortlessly until now. My cheeks flame as I squirm and give half-hearted slaps to his impressively firm ass, loving every minute of the attention he’s giving me.