irritated and aroused her at the same time. He was such an infuriating man.
“Took ya long enough, Butch.”
Humor lightened his eyes. “You’ve always been a demanding wench.”
The bartender sidled closer. Butch shook his head without looking at the man. “I assume you got the room.”
She really should take exception to his tone. She should have been pissed when he’d sent her a text with an order to secure a room. Instead, just the thought of being ordered about by him had her hormones humming. He could melt her into a puddle of lust with just a look. When he went all Alpha male on her, she couldn’t say no.
“Yes, although you didn’t specify what kind of view you wanted.”
His lips quirked, but he said nothing as he watched as she finished her drink. She didn’t hurry, even if she wanted to. Truthfully, what she yearned to do was to rush upstairs, strip him naked, and then jump his gorgeous bones. It wouldn’t be the first time for that…and definitely not the last. Tonight, though, she wanted to draw out the anticipation. She knew it drove him crazy.
S he was pushing him . She was good at it, excelled at it in fact. Years of practice had made her an expert on just what would push him over the edge. And she always was one for the game. But this time, he thought, he would just push back.
Butch crowded closer, slipping in between her barstool and the next. Her bare thigh rubbed against his. He was wearing slacks, but it didn’t matter. Even without touching her skin he was hard. The mere thought that they were moments away from stealing upstairs for an illicit tryst had his body raring to go.
He closed his eyes. Good God she had him thinking like…he didn’t know what the hell he was thinking like, but it wasn’t like him. Illicit tryst? He sounded like a hero in a gothic novel. Opening his eyes, he motioned toward the bartender and ordered a lava flow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught her satisfied smile, the curve of her lips into a shrewd smirk. It was about time to give her a little of what she was tossing out.
“So…”
She flashed him a grin that was all teeth. His cock twitched. He loved her independence, loved the fact that she was so confident in herself. It had become almost more of a turn on than the compact little body she displayed in that curve hugging dress.
“Gennifer—with a G.”
He snorted. The woman had a twisted sense of humor. “So, Gennifer with a G, where did you get that dress?”
She skimmed her hand down her body. He curled his fingers into the palms of his hands, resisting to the urge to touch, caress. He couldn’t be in the same room and not want to have his hands on her.
“Went out this morning shopping, just for this.”
The bartender set Butch’s drink down in front of him and he tossed the young man enough cash to cover both drinks. Saying nothing, he pulled a sip off the straw, still amazed he liked the fruity concoction he’d tasted his first night on the island.
When he said nothing, just continued to watch her, she squirmed on the stool. A flash of irritation passed over her face. The next second, it melted into calculation. She leaned closer. The scent of her always drove him crazy. Wildflowers, and just a hint of her—musky woman. It was an aphrodisiac.
“You should see what I bought to wear later.”
He could just imagine. Her moods changed as often as weather in the South. Black leather one day. Pink velvet the next. It didn’t matter what it was, if it was on her, it would be sexy.
Her lips brushed against his ear. It would be unmanly to shiver, but he could feel one waiting to crawl up his spine. He suppressed it knowing it would give her too much satisfaction. She wanted to play, and he was helpless to do anything but please her. Still, there was no way to ignore his erection. Her breath feathered across his lobe, his cock twitched again and lengthened.
“Are you ready yet?”
The double entendre was intended. She never