As soon as I open the door, I feel every eye turn my way.
I start to sweat under their stares, trying not to look at them for too long. When my eyes land on Nick playing pool on the other side of the room, I’m sweating for a whole new reason.
His blue eyes are on mine, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He’s giving me Jax Teller vibes right now, and my dick is really enjoying the view.
Yes, I watched Sons of Anarchy after finding out I was mated to an MC president. It was for research.
Nick takes a drag of his cigarette and puts it out in an ash tray, then places his cue stick down.
He walks over to me, his boots thudding against the hardwood floors. He blows the smoke out when he’s a few feet away, walking through it to stand in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” We’re toe to toe now and I’m finding it hard to think. I can smell the smoke on him, but his scent is strong enough to overpower it.
“Nova is at the bakery with Ian and Will is working.” I shrug. “Got off work and didn’t want to go home.”
He nods. “Stay.” He gestures towards the bar. “Have a drink.”
“Okay.”
We walk over to the bar and Nick orders a rum and coke. “What do you want?”
“Soda is fine.” I tell him. “I drove here.”
“He’ll have the same.” Nick tells them. Okay then. “You eat yet?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Order of wings too. Honey garlic.” I should bite back a smile, but he remembered. Why does that feel like a big deal?
“You know how to play pool?”
“A little bit.”
The bartender places our drinks on the bar top and Nick grabs them, handing me mine. He nods his head towards the table. “Come on.”
My heart races as sparks of excitement trickle in. We head over the table and I take the cue he holds out. “Thanks.”
He nods and places his drink on the edge then sets up the balls.
I watch, sipping my drink, trying to play it cool. I’m hanging out with Nick. Alone. Okay, not alone because there are people around us, but he’s with me, not with his friends.
“You wanna break?” he asks, grabbing his cue stick.
“Sure.” I take another drink and place it on the side as I move over to line up my shot.
I’m highly aware that Nick hasn’t moved very much, giving me little space so when I bend over, my ass is very close to his groin.
With a steadying breath, I take my shot. The balls clack and break apart, a few going into the pockets.
“Not bad.” I step away and let him take his shot.
We go back and forth like that, not saying anything, just drinking and playing. I find myself watching him, the little hitch of his lips whenever he gets a shot.
By the time we’re done, the bartender tells us my wings are ready.
“Good game.” he places the cue stick on the table.
“You won.”
