Further down the bar, the woman who’s been haunting me frowns and huffs, using her hands as she speaks. When I see her now, I barely even see the anger burning in her gaze. No, all I hear are her moans and the sound she makes when she’s said my name over and over.
Now that’s something I know she’s never given a man before. Is that why I’m so worked up about it?
To think she was a virgin… Even now, I’m struggling to wrap my mind around it.
I get she can be threatening at times, but that doesn’t mean she’s not tempting. Are there really guys here who just don’t see her the way I do? The real question to ask is, how do I see her?
Like a magnet, my eyes are dragged back to her.
“What in the hell do you want me to do about it?” Raven thrusts an empty bottle toward Ripper’s grinning face. “Out means out. Stop drinking it all so quickly, and we’ll have enough to serve through the rest of the night.”
She’s heated up, just as she always is. Has her skin always flushed a pale pink whenever she gets worked up, or have I only now noticed it?
The VP laughs, enjoying her rage. As I watch the scene play out, it isn’t until my jaw is aching that I realize my teeth are clenched.
What is this sensation rolling around in my chest? I don’t like how it consumes me in one swallow.
Tearing my eyes away, I swallow down my next shot and enjoy the way my thoughts cloud over. Hard to think about complicated stuff while I’m drunk.
I’ve got to be like the rest of the guys and actually celebrate. There are two things I need. One, I’ve already got coursing through my system. The other…
It must be perfect timing that my beautiful blonde definition of fun is approaching with that tempting smile on her lips. It’s that curve that gets men in trouble. The very same curve I entertain anytime I get an itch to let loose.
Sweet Rosie. My beautiful Rosie.
Yes.
This is the antidote. This is what I need to reset the static in my head.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” I force my most practiced smile, abandoning my glass to spin on my stool. She steps neatly into the space between my knees, a move we’ve perfected over time. My hands come up to hover at her hips—a brief, inexplicable freeze—before I finally settle them against the familiar curve of her waist.
“You look lonely by yourself,” she purrs, her brown eyes, warm as spiked cocoa, crinkling as she drinks me in. “Tell me you’re free. You’ve been so busy lately.” Her fingers trail up my chest. “I want to dance, and no one can keep up with me like you can.”
As her hands rise to cup my face, her breath a sweet, predictable warmth against my lips, I feel it. A pressure. A weight so heavy, it surpasses mere gravity’s pull. I don’t need to look to confirm.
Raven’s watching.
It hits me like a bucket of ice water—a sudden, clenching wave of guilt, sharp and utterly nonsensical. I haven’t done anything wrong. This is what I do. So why do I feel like I’ve just been caught in a lie?
Before Rosie can close the distance, my head turns of its own volition, a puppet on a string I didn’t know I was attached to.
I’m right. Raven isn’t looking at me, but her profile is a hard line of disapproval. She’s scowling at a bottle label like it personally offended her before dropping it in the trash hard enough to hear glass crack. I’ve seen her angry, but this… this is a quiet, simmering storm. Not even the VP gets under her skin like that.
“Come hang out with us, Jinx. It’s boring over here,” Rosie draws out every syllable, letting them curl around my ear just the way she knows I like it. It’s a siren’s call designed for the old me.
The old me would have said yes in a heartbeat. Maybe I still would, if I weren’t utterly transfixed by the scowling bartender.
Raven snatches a bottle of top-shelf tequila and pours a shot, neat. In one reckless motion, she throws it back. Does she even drink? I’ve seen her taste-test ingredients, a thoughtful nibble here and there, but I’ve never seen her inhale liquor with that kind of practiced, angry ease.
“Oh, fuck yeah! Come take a break!” Ripper slurs, reaching for her arm, way too handsy when he’s drunk. “Haven loves you! Let’s party. We can play pool. Let’s kick Hammer’s ass.”
Or, he could go back to his old lady and give her all his attention as he has been for the last damn week.
Raven pours another shot, ignoring him until her shoulders settle into a rigid line. “Go enjoy yourself,” she says, her voice flat. “I’m busy.”
When Ripper leans in, lowering his voice to say something only she can hear, my jaw tightens. I see it—a faint, betraying flush blooms high on her cheekbones. What is he saying to her? The question is a barbed hook in my throat.
“Jinx.” Rosie’s voice is a petulant pull, turning my face back to her with gentle fingers. She pouts, impatient. By now, my tongue should be down her throat. By now, I should be forgetting my own name.
