We had agreed that we would likely make more tips if I handled the wood, and he kept up with stock and swapped out our empties. Working with Reaver was normal and easy now. After a full week of working together, we developed our own groove, and we quickly fell into a natural cadence as the night wore on.
Much like Sam used to do, he would touch his hand to the small of my back instead of staying behind. Reaver also had a tendency to press up behind me when we both needed to fill up a pint, and the taps were next to each other. He often would rest his hand on my hip and rub his thumb gently up and down over my hip bone while he waited for his glass to fill.
I felt each touch directly in my clit. I was getting more and more hot and bothered as the night went on.
“Hey, sweet cheeks! A round of Blue Label for the boys!” A man who had been ordering round after round for several hours hollered at me. I tried not to scowl. He had taken to calling me sweet cheeks, and I didn’t think he was talking about the ones on my face.
I took a deep breath and let it go.Think about the tips, think about the tips…
I turned to find Reaver standing in front of the bottle and let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this nicer version of Reaver would reach it for me, so I wouldn’t need to hop up and down like an imbecile to try and grab it.
It was like he read my mind. An evil smile curled across his mouth, and he leaned back against the liquor display, watching me.
“Reaver, come on. Don’t be like that. Can you please reach the Blue Label for me?” I asked, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm, I think I would rather watch you try to get it,” he said, though this time, his tone was playful instead of hostile. Not having the energy to argue with him, I rolled my eyes.
“Fine. Can you at least get out of the way then? It’s behind you.”
He just smiled and shook his head. “No. I want to see you try with me here.”
I glared at him. What in the actual fuck!?
“Reaver!”I snapped, starting to get angry, but he just laughed.
“Come on, deathtrap, try for me. Maybe I’ll take pity on you and grab it if I feel like you really worked for it.”
“Come on, sweet cheeks! We’re waiting!” The disgusting asshole at the bar barked at me, and I winced as Reaver’s grin widened.
“Tick-tock, deathtrap. Your drink times are going to be all fucked up if you don’t get it soon.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. Likehecared about drink times.
“Fine,” I snapped and moved forward. He towered over me, and I tried to figure out how I was going to do this. The bottle of scotch was poking out from behind his left shoulder. He was leaning, with one leg out in front of him and the other resting on the wall beneath the liquor display.
There was no way I would be able to get to the liquor without touching him. I hoped this didn’t get him fucking killed. Surely, Death would understand that I wasn’t touching him in a friendly or romantic way. I was just doing this because he was a fucking asshole and wouldn’t move out of my way.
He stared at me, waiting to see what I would do with an amused gleam in his gorgeous hazel eyes.
Fuck it; it was his funeral.
I stepped forward, straddling his leg and reaching up over his left shoulder for the bottle. I squeaked when he dropped his hands to my hips and pulled me more firmly against him.
Because I was wearing my Voodoo skirt, the only thing that separated me from his leg was the thin layer of cotton that made up the front of my thong. I should have fucking worn shorts underneath, but I had been trying to minimize the amount of fabric that rubbed against me when I walked. Clearly, that had been a mistake.
My breath caught in my chest as my clit flushed with heat at the friction. His earthy scent was all around me, and I was drowning in it. He slid his hands down from my hips, and I sucked in a surprised breath as his fingers grazed the backs of my thighs, traveling an inappropriate distance up my skirt. He hesitated when his fingers brushed one of my scars, but only for a beat.
“Reaver…” I breathed, forgetting I had been reaching for the scotch. He was looking down at me, his eyes filled with a deadly heat. Without warning, he pressed me more solidly against his leg, rubbing me against him in one deliciously long, slow stroke. He smirked as my eyes fluttered, and I let out an involuntary moan.
“Did that feel good, deathtrap?” he whispered into my ear. His hot breath sent shivers through my entire body, and my pussy throbbed against him.
“Sweet cheeks! Stop fucking the bartender and bring me my shots!” the man behind me yelled, but Reaver didn’t let me go. He reached back with one hand to grab the bottle, never taking his eyes off me. With his other hand, he traced one of the scars that lay directly beneath the crease of my ass.
My heart was pounding, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was lost in the endless sea of his hazel eyes, and they crinkled at the corners as he smirked down at me.
“You’re fucking soaking my leg, deathtrap. You reallydoneed to get laid, don’t you?” he whispered into my ear, and suddenly, I snapped back to reality. I stumbled away from him.
What was I doing?
