Ross 04 Take Me On by Cherrie Lynn Read Free Book Online

earlier thought that Satan had slid up on the barstool next to him. Oh no. Now she was Satan, and if looks could kill…he’d have her pitchfork buried in his chest. Or elsewhere on his anatomy where she could do maximum damage.
    He couldn’t claim total victory, though, because those particular parts of his anatomy throbbed in time with the beat of his heart. Uttering those words to her and her visceral reaction to them had flooded his dick with heat, and the last thing he needed was to be sporting wood right under her nose.
    Leaving was his best option, but a few guys he vaguely knew motioned him over to start up a game of pool, so he headed in their direction.
    Aware all the while of Gabriella’s eyes on him. They were like fucking laser beams. Aimed right at his crotch. Jesus.
    He tried to concentrate on the game, but damn if she didn’t move over to one of the neighboring tables and start up a game of her own. While he pretended to be aiming his cue stick, he was really scoping out her black-skirt-clad ass as she bent over to do the same.
    He shot. And missed. She made it, as evidenced by her whoop and her male partner’s high-five.
    “Fuck!” Ian bellowed, straightening and getting too much attention from the crowd over there—namely Gabriella’s.
    “Dude, it’s all right.” His partner laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. Ian rubbed the back of his neck, eyeballing the way that one drunk asshole kept trying to put his hands on her. And the way she was allowing it, until she was ready for her next shot. Then she shoved him away and took up a position that had her facing Ian, bending over so her cleavage was shown off to its best advantage.
    Ian felt a sudden sharp nudge in his side. “It’s your turn, man.”
    Already? He snapped out of his funk, looking down at his own table. Naturally, the best shot he could take had him still facing her. He set up, trying not to glance up at her— don’t fucking look at her, you ignorant asshole —but yet again he found his gaze tangled up in hers. She moved that fucking cue stick back and forth through her fingers in an almost obscene rhythm. Just as he was about to moan aloud and embarrass himself, she smiled. Her eyes flickered down at her shot, and she took it.
    A chorus of good-natured groans went up from her flock of admirers, and she gave an adorable pout as she straightened.
    “What the hell are you waiting for, man?” one of Ian’s spectators asked.
    “I think he’s too busy watching the show over there,” another said.
    “Hell, for that matter, so am I.”
    He wanted to jump up and break his stick over someone’s head. Instead, he channeled all his agitation into nailing the cue ball and easily pocketing his target. Thank Christ. He moved around to take his next shot, and his next, always with her in the corner of his eye. That group over there was getting rowdier by the minute, or maybe it was his imagination. She handled herself just fine without his intervention, but he was on high alert to give it at any moment.
    He and his partner won their game. She and hers lost, judging by all the condolences she got from her new friends. Could they be any more obvious about wanting to get under her skirt? He wanted to get under her skirt too, but he wasn’t about to make a fucking idiot of himself over it.
    Yeah, who was he kidding.
    Someone offered a new game; he turned them down. For some reason, he wasn’t in the mood—could have something to do with that earlier thought about cracking a few skulls with the cue stick. But Gabriella Ross was certainly enjoying the hell out of herself and her admirers, having shaken off Ian’s rejection as if it had never happened.
    Then again, maybe it hadn’t, which was what this was all about.
    The conversation around him turned back to the ball game, where the Rangers were in danger of losing their lead as the Blue Jays had managed to load the bases. Tension in the bar reached a peak as the 0-3 pitch was