His jaw works from side to side.
“Doesn’t matter,” he rasps. “He touched you.”
Something dark inflates inside my chest, then Bobby’s footsteps on the unwashed tile make me turn.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I shrug a shoulder in disbelief. “Fine. Just casual bar violence.”
Bobby looks at the stranger, then down at the unconscious guy on the floor. “He deserved it?”
The stranger shrugs then coasts his hazel gaze to me. “Ask her.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Um, yes. I suppose he did.”
Bobby nods to another guy watching from the edge of the room. The two of them drag ‘wandering hands’ out of the bar, dumping him on the sidewalk. He was the picture of a sleeping baby. Not a cut on him. Even to a novice like me, the punch was clearly targeted and precise.
Still, it shouldn’t have happened.
I turn to the stranger. “You can’t just knock people out like that.”
“Watch me.”
“You’re going to get me fired.”
He softens. “You get fired when I say you get fired.”
I almost flinch at his words but sarcasm gets the better of me.
“Oh, right, so you own this place?”
Something snaps behind his expression. He steps into me, making me skitter backward until my spine hits the bar. He follows close, his chest almost touching mine.
His voice drops, low and gritty, and he speaks roughly into my ear.
“Do you know what that kind of adrenaline does to a man’s dick?”
My eyes flash wide open.Did he really just say that to me?
He continues in an eerily calm, unquestionablegrowl.
“It confuses the body so much that when it sees something it wants, it isprimedto get it, no matter what. So I suggest you step away from me now, before I order everyone the fuck out ofthis establishment, bend you over this bar, and make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
I stop breathing, because he didn’t just say that.
When he doesn’t move an inch from my ear, I realize he isnotbluffing.
Pressing my back into the bar, I slide out from beneath his rigid and imposing body.
Free of the weight of his stare, I gasp for air and scurry behind the bar.
When I turn around, his eyes are black, his fisted fingers flexing. Then he whips his jacket off the bar hook, shoots me one last glare and walks out of the door.
Augusto
My pulse israging.
Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken to her that way. I’ve certainly never spoken to another woman that way, but every word of it was true. I couldn’t fucking think straight.
