He arched an eyebrow at me.
“Of course you can. It’s my pleasure,” he said, his wicked grin firmly back in place. “Would you like to come back to my home, cher, or would you prefer we go to yours?”
I DEBATED WHETHER TO CHOOSE his place or mine. I was curious about him, more so than normal. I wanted to know where he lived, what his home looked like. In the end, I decided on my space because it was a known variable and felt marginally safer than going to a strange place with a man I’d just met.
“Do you want to take a picture of my license to send to your girlfriends?” He reached for his back pocket, his voice taking on a serious tone.
“Let’s not do last names.” I held my hand up to stop him, needing to feel in control of the situation.
If he showed me his, I’d have to show him mine. I was more concerned about social media trolling than I was my physical safety. But if I’d really been concerned about either, we’d never have gotten this far.
“I’ve got an idea.” I thumbed open the camera on my phone. “Smile.”
He did, a cocky grin that promised all manner of delicious things. I snapped a photo and sent it along with a quick text to Alex, letting her know I was taking the hot bartender home.
A couple seconds later, my phone vibrated with a purple horny devil emoji and a warning that she’d send the cavalry if she didn’t hear from me in the morning.
“My turn,” said Ford, snagging the phone he’d left beside the register. “Smile for me, cher.”
The command in his voice caught me off guard. I dipped my head and smiled up at him from under my lashes, turning my momentary unsettled feeling into flirtation.
“Gorgeous.” He glanced at the image on his screen, and I smiled at the praise.
I was comfortable with myself, not overly vain or self-deprecating. But the honest appreciation in Ford’s voice made my pulse pick up in anticipation.
“Did you drive here?” he asked, leaning in so I could breathe in the almost spicy scent of his aftershave—like old school bay rum—and feel the warmth radiating off his body.
“I took an Uber from work.” I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. Something about this man made it hard for me to think clearly. I don’t know if it was the way he looked at me—as if I were the only woman in the world—or the soft, almost featherlight caress of his fingertips on my collarbone.
“We can take my car.” He came around the bar to meet me, resting his hand on my shoulder in a gesture that was both possessive and enticing. “Where am I taking you?” He slid his hand, warm through the silk of my blouse, from my shoulder down my arm to catch my fingers with his.
“My place.”
Tugging gently, he led me through the door behind the bar and into the kitchen. The fluorescent lights blazed bright but all but one or two of the staff had left for the night, giving it a vacant feel. The man, presumably one of the sous chefs given his white double-breasted jacket, wiping down the already spotless stainless prep table looked up when he heard us.
“I’m out for the night. The bar prep is finished. Ask Anthony to close out, please.” His mannerism was firm—authoritative. He wasn’t brusque, but there was command in his voice, the playfulness from his time behind the bar replaced with control. The combination was unexpected and a little dangerous. I could handle the playful bartender. This man was a different animal entirely. He led me across the spotless kitchen to a door leading to the back alley. When we stepped outside, he tucked me in against him. The gesture felt protective, but there was more, a warmth that came from more than his body, as if regardless of the fact that we’d just met and didn’t know each other, he’d still look out for me.
I took care of myself. It was a deliberate choice and one I was very comfortable with. I’d have changed it if I wasn’t, but part of me was still drawn to the way this unexpected man paid attention to me. I decided not to look too closely at it for now. If I had any say init, the night would end with orgasms for both of us and warm feelings as we parted ways. I didn’t need to do a deeper mental dive than that. Especially not with the remnants of the gin competing with the warmth of the man next to me. Gin was responsible for some of my very best bad decisions. This had the makings of one of them.
He reached into his pocket and chirped open the door to a Jag parked out back. The car was older, with the rounded curves missing in the newer models, but nice enough to make me reconsider bartending as a profession. He held the door for me, closing it as soon as I was settled inside.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, he buckled his seat belt, slid the car into gear, and reached across the center console to take my hand again. The gesture was intimate—more like a couple than a one-night stand—but I let it go, mostly because it felt nice to have his fingers twined with mine, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. Another thing I had no intention of looking at too closely.
“Tell me where we are going, Charlotte.” I knew he was talking about directions to my place, but it felt like he was asking me something more.
“Down Franklin, left on Lombard before Chef Menteur. There’s parking around the back.”
“How would you like the night to go?” He kept up the circular pass of his thumb over the back of my hand, waking up my nerves and making my body hyper aware of him.
It wasn’t typical one-night-stand conversation, but nothing about this night had been typical. I shouldn’t have expected this to be any different.
“I’m hoping for a couple of orgasms and fond feelings when we kiss each other good-bye at the end of the night. No strings. Nothing beyond however many hours it takes for us to wear each other out.” That might have been a bit more honest than I needed to be, but it was better if we both went into this with the same expectations.
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” He brought our joined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips against the inside of my wrist.
The kiss was almost chaste. My reaction to it was not. His lips, warm and firm against my sensitive skin, the slight rasp of stubble, and the way he caged my small hand with his much larger one all combined into something much more than a kiss. It was a precursor. A promise of what came next, and I wanted it, all of it. I wanted him with a fierceness at odds with a typicaljust a hot guy I picked up in a barset up.
Ford pulled into a spot behind my house. He was around the car, offering me hishand before I could do more than get my door open. I took it, and he pulled me to standing and into his arms, leaving me no choice but to step away or to melt into him. I stepped closer, pressing the length of my body against his, and felt his murmur of approval like a vibration in my solar plexus. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me tight against him, tight enough that I could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into the soft mound of my belly.
