Chapter Twelve
Rory
If I saidI went into the bar for only a couple drinks, I’d be lying, and that’s not really my style. Bloody Kit. I can’t believe he’d gone all big brother on me. The bastard banished me to the wilds of Scotland until he can sort my shit tip out.His words, not mine.Apparently, if I come within fifty miles of Beth, she’s going to file a sexual harassment suit. Surely she’s got that arseways—I’m the wronged party! So there I was, sitting in a bar by myself on a Saturday night, looking for a distraction, when a distraction came looking for me.
Slim, blonde, cute, and from what I can see, totally fuckable. I didn’t immediately turn, taking a mouthful of drink instead. Even with limited vision, I could see there was something familiar about her, and for a split second, I wondered if she was maybe the more do-able sister of some girl I’ve already done. But as I’d given her my full attention, I saw I was wrong.
The hair salon.
Appearances can be deceptive. Who knew beneath those long locks and staid clothes there was a woman who looked like this? From daytime sophisticate to an outfit that looks sexy and sort of French. Heels. Red painted blow-job lips. Short, dark blonde hair. Truth is, I’m usually a fan of girls with long hair. I like to wrap my hands in it as I drag her mouth to mine. Love the brush of it against the skin of my thighs during head. But it would be a crime to have any sort of distraction from a mouth like hers.And those freckles.The only thing missing from tonight’s outfit is the diamond band she wore across her left hand. Maybe I should’ve felt shame hitting on a married woman. The truth is, the situation sort of created itself. And while I doubt she’s gotten a divorce between now and last Tuesday, there’s also her sudden hair change. Isn’t there supposed to be some correlation between break-ups and drastic haircuts?
Fuck, I sound like an article inCosmo. I’m not gonna complain that she’s here.
And it’s not like I was stalking her, but earlier I’d spotted her when I came into the bar sitting with her friends. Then later, when I’d sought her out, she and her pals were surrounded by blokes—a table full of nerds—so I’d just moved back to the bar again.
But then she came tome. Which totally made her fair game. So, along with the generic greeting, I’d laid on just a hint of what Kit calls the KDS.The knicker dropping smirk. I’m not new to this play, but was on the back foot immediately, our interaction unlike anything I’d expect. She wasn’t after a few moments of mild flirtation before heading back to her friends. Most likely she was a fish out of water and daring herself.Kit would have a shit fit, tell me that I have some kind of compulsion for trouble, that I actively attract it, but I like to think of myself as more of a community service. For the prettyandtroubled ones, at least.
Maybe I am just a glutton for punishment, because sure, I’d driven past her place of work once or twice this week. Despite resembling a drowned rat that day, the spark between us was obvious. Something else that’s obvious? She doesn’t want to admit we’ve already met, and I’m happy enough to play along.
This is definitely on. It’s not like I’ve never been propositioned in a bar before, though there was something cute about the way she’d hit on me. It’s not a massive large leap of faith to believe this is a one off. And we’re back to the ring situation again.
Not gonna think about it.
Not my responsibility.
Helping her down from the chair—she’s only a wee totey thing—I slip on my jacket and guide her through the throng. As I hold the door open for her, she looks a little flustered. My first instinct is that she’s having second thoughts. I could—should—offer to take her home, thinking fleetingly back to her ambiguous marital status.Maybe they’ve just had a fight and I’m making this worse.
I suppose it’s a shame I’m not really a gentleman. It’s not as though I can’t be gentle, because I can. I just happen to prefer a little rough.
‘My jacket,’ she mumbles, pulling her phone from one of those flat purses that surely can’t hold more than a lip gloss and a few quid. ‘False alarm,’ she says, staring down at the screen. ‘Natasha has taken it home.’ Then she mumbles something aboutcutting a bitchif she finds a mark on the suede.
We step outside.
It’s baltic this evening and, as we walk, I grab her hand. It’s an innocent gesture that contradicts the images flooding my brain. I find myself smiling, thinking back to what her mouthy friend said about snow and inches. I’m not biggin’ myself up by saying I’m the higher end of her scale.
Wonder if I’ll get to snow in her mouth?
‘What’s so funny?’
Her hand slides out of mine, and as I look down, I notice she’s folded her arms across her chest and her teeth are chattering. She’s also tottering alongside me, two tiny steps to each of my strides, so I slow down. I feel a bit of a shit for not noticing earlier, not that it matters. We’re almost there.
‘Nothing,’ I answer, sliding my jacket from my shoulders. Before she can say anything, I’ve stopped and slid it over hers. She protests, like a girl, even as her arms unclench, uncovering nipples as noticeable as door knobs beneath the flimsy material of her shirt. If I wasn’t hard before, you can bet I am now.‘We can’t have you dying of hypothermia.’At least, not before I’ve screwed your brains out.
‘Chivalrous,’ she says, smiling up at me. ‘I like it.’
It’s a smile that falters as I grasp her shoulders, turning and pushing her up against the cold brick wall. I don’t give either of us time to register anything else as I glue my mouth over hers. She tastes of fruit and lip gloss and a kind of sweet desperation as her shocked squeak becomes a mewl in my mouth. She’s pliant for a moment before rousing herself, her hands feeding around my neck and pulling me closer. I kiss her harder then, gliding the tip of my tongue against hers once or twice.
I’d meant it as a way of ridding her of the notion of any kind of chivalry, but I hadn’t expected her response. For her to fully open to me out in the dark; wriggling her little body against me as I pushed her against cold brick.
‘What did you do that for?’ she murmurs, tugging on my neck as I pull away—I have to before this goes any further. I’m not against the great outdoors, per se, but I think my balls would end up looking like corduroy caps exposed to this kind of cold.
‘Do I need a reason to kiss a pretty girl?’ I take her hands in mine, unlinking them from my neck and holding them in my own.
‘No,’ she says, looking mussed up, sexy and a little confused. ‘I meant why did you stop?’
I can’t stop the chuckle that breaks from my chest. FromI’m not sleeping with youtoI think I can do thistodon’t stop.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ I say, swinging open the wrought iron gate and pulling her inside. ‘I’ll show you how chivalrous I can be.’ I throw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to my side as we walk the garden path that I know will be overgrown with wild flowers in a couple months.
‘That sounds promising.’
‘Darlin’,’ I whisper against her ear, ‘I’ll even let you come first.’
