“There’s really no need,” I say.
“Yeah, you stay here, Steve,” Diablo says, and I know he said his name wrong on purpose to be a dick. “I just need to have a quick word with her in private.”
Fuck. Maybe it would be easier to get this over with. I flash Mr. Finance my sexiest smile, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as I do.
“I’ll be right back, Simon, please just let me deal with whatever this is.”
Either the smile or the arm squeeze works because he places his drink back on the bar and nods. I make sure to press my body against him as I get down from the barstool, a move he clearly appreciates judging by the look in his eyes.
I adjust my dress slightly and walk to the other end of the bar, but Diablo places his hand on my lower back and leads me towards the restrooms. Usually, I love the fact that this place has individual restrooms with lockable doors, it makes it way easier to hook up if a guy isn’t willing to go back to his place. I mean, I’m sure as hell not going to take them back to mine. But now that I’m going there with Diablo, I start to think they’re a terrible idea.
Once we’re inside, he moves me back against the door and locks it. We’re close, but not touching anywhere, his hands pressing against the door either side of my shoulders. He stares at me intensely, not hiding his lingering glances down to my lips.
“So?” I ask, “What the fuck do you want this time?”
“Why didn’t you reply to my messages?” he asks, as though that’s reason enough to steal me away from a potential date and ruin my evening.
I’d seen his messages, it was a number I didn’t recognize, but who else would have sent me those things? I decide to feign ignorance.
“What messages?”
The look on his face falters. “I text you, I got your number from Donovan.”
Donovan, that sneaky asshole, why the fuck is he giving my number to his brother?
“Oh, was that you saying something about not answering a question and asking if I was ignoring you?”
“Obviously that was me, who else would it have been?”
I shrug. “Well, you didn’t sign your name, and I didn’t recognize the number. And as you can see, I meet new people all the time, so how was I to know?”
He doesn’t need to know that I never give my real number out in bars.
“I suppose that makes sense,” he says.
“Anyway, how did you find me?” I ask, wondering who I need to yell at for sharing my hook up spot with him.
“Donovan was asking why you weren’t at the clubhouse when Ana invited you, and you promised him you’d go whenever you were invited.”
Fucking Donovan. Why is he doing this to me?
“Fair enough, but that still doesn’t explain how you knew I was here specifically.”
His eyes darken. “Ana said something about you needing to get laid, and that you were going to the bar.”
“Oh.” I can’t think of anything clever to say about that…
“I’m not gonna lie,” he says, “I’m disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Excuse me?”
He leans close, so he only needs to whisper to be heard, “If you wanted to get laid so badly princess, all you had to do was ask.”
I melt at his words, the trace of his breath on my cheek, that scent of leather that seems to follow him everywhere. His tone tells me he’s serious, that kiss in my apartment had been for real, he hadn’t been messing with me. He wants this, and the way my body is reacting to him, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it too.
“We can’t,” I whisper.
“And why is that?” he asks.
