Completelyunexpected.
“Señor?”
I work at unclenching my teeth as I swallow down my surprise.
“Uh, yes, Mr. Garcia. Nice to meet you. I’m Alexander Jarrell… but please, call me Alex.”
I reach out at an awkward angle and shake his hand. His palm is warm. Steady and confident.
The complete opposite of mine.
“Thank you for the drink…sir,” I add—because… ugh, I don’t even know. Can I sound any more ridiculous?
And what the actual hell is with the high pitch to my voice?
He chuckles, low and warm, smooth as the bourbon in my glass.
And yep… there it is. My skin tingles.
“You are most welcome, Alex. And, please, call me Elijah.”
His words roll out like smoke—lazy, dark, and likely toxic to my self-control. He tilts his glass.
“Let me get us another, sí?”
I drain the rest of my drink. If I’m going to unravel, I might as well do it with a little dignity—and a lot more whiskey. Good call on his part. Not gonna lie… that Latin accent isseriouslyturning me on.
Shifting in his seat, he raises his empty glass and nods toward the bartender, whose face is beaming with an over-the-top smile.
Great. Just great.
Elijah spreads his legs, and I suck in a sharp breath when his thigh presses more solidly against mine, causing goose bumps to sprint across my skin. A sheer moment of panic rips through my chest as I wonder if this knocking of knees is intentional or not? But as quickly as that thought enters my mind, Elijah’s hand comes to rest on my thigh, and I have my answer?—
Definitely intentional.
Filthy images blow through my mind—his darker skin in beautiful contrast to my considerably lighter tone; heavy cock sliding across my thigh, much like his hand is doing right at this very moment and?—
“Emilio,” he commands in that sexy broken English, tongue slicing theL, releasing me from my erotic mind trip. “Please get Alex and me another bourbon.”
I am so fucked.
He tilts his head, those dark-chocolate eyes dropping to my mouth. Nervously, I lick my lips. His—plump and far too tempting—slant into a crooked smile.
Oh god.
I reach for my fresh glass of bourbon and take a nervous sip, trying—failing—to pull myself together.
Say something normal, Alex. Anything.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” I manage to choke out, swallowing the fine spirit—along with my nerves.
His smile lingers as the glass meets his lips. “Gracias. This must be your first time, sí?”
For Christ’s sake.
I nearly groan into my drink when his Adam’s apple dips low with the swallow, smooth and deliberate, like heknowswhat he’s doing.
I follow suit, tossing mine back as well—mostly to keep from saying something stupid.
