the last brush of his hard cock. No other guy in the place had looked to be of screwable quality after that. She’d spent the better part of the night sitting at the bar, chatting with Jen, the head bartender. Now that the place was closing, Liz had the pleasure of going home alone and orgasmless yet again.
“No luck?”
Jen had disappeared into the back to help with cleanup, and Liz was taking a last pull from her beer when the amused masculine voice with a slight drawl reached her. She set the bottle on the bar and swiveled on her stool to find Dusty smiling down at her. She growled in the back of her throat.
Could the man not get it through his thick skull that she didn’t like him? Didn’t even want to see his too-damned-sexy face?
The lights had been turned on high, exposing every lean, lickable angle.
She shivered as she imagined the sandy-blond whiskers that darkened his square jawline and edged into his goatee scraping over her aroused flesh. Rumor had it some women came from nipple stimulation alone. She’d never believed she could be among that highly orgasmic group, but maybe the chafe of Dusty’s coarse facial hair over her breasts would be enough to empty her mind of thought and send her body spiraling toward climax.
Yeah, and that idea could go the hell back to wherever it came from. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m hooking up with someone in the parking lot in a few minutes.”
The right side of his mouth twitched. A devilish twinkle lit his dark brown eyes. He propped an elbow on the bar and leaned against it, the collar of his partially unbuttoned black dress shirt gaping open to reveal curling chest hair the same dirty-blond shade as his goatee. “Fucking in the parking lot—sounds like a classy guy.”
Pulling her attention back to his face, Liz struggled not to recall how delectable his body was beneath his shirt. Struggled and failed. Every inch of ripped abdominal and pectoral muscle encased in sun-bronzed skin materialized in her mind and sent a shiver through her belly. “Oh, pull-eaze, like you’d know anything about class.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I didn’t always spend my life in a bar.”
Reflecting on his high-society roots was far better than reflecting on his body. Thinking about his roots left her cold; thinking about his body left her eager to touch. There would be no more touching between them. Not one single brush.
Dusty had moved from Texas to Georgia seven and a half years ago. From what she’d overheard him tell Colin, he hadn’t spoken with his parents since. Why, Liz didn’t know. What she did know was that his parents were happily married, wealthy as Croesus, and regularly touted for their contributions to family-oriented organizations. It was hard to like anyone who would cut themselves off from an upbringing so ideal.
“You’d never be able to tell.” Snarkiness over her own, all-but-motherless rearing reflected in her voice. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed learning about her menstrual period from her red-faced, babbling father. That moment was right up there with their outing to buy a training bra—apparently he’d thought her breasts wouldn’t figure out what to do without preparation. They’d figured it out, all right. The little bastards were practically standing at attention and begging to be let out for some playtime in Dusty’s hands.
“You’ve mastered the art of seediness perfectly,” she continued. “Speaking of seedy, what happened to Blondie? Have to run home for a quick collagen fix?”
“Wasn’t my type.”
“Doesn’t put out on the first date. My sympathies.”
His smile gone, Dusty straightened. “You’re acting like an even bigger bitch than usual. Panties still in a twist over that kiss, or is the problem about wetness?”
Hah! As if he’d affected her panties with that puny kiss.
Okay, so maybe he had the tiniest little bit.
Ah, shit, she could lie to the rest of the world but not to herself. Their earlier tango had been about a whole lot more than a kiss, puny or otherwise. Her already damp sex moistened further as she recalled the thrust of his stiff dick.
Was he still hard?
Not that she cared. Really, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Ignoring the urge to rub her thighs together, Liz stood. “Get real, Marr. You know I don’t wear panties.”
The devilish gleam returned to his eyes. “That’s a yes to the wetness.”
Rolling her eyes, she started for the exit. “The day your kiss gets me wet will be the same one I start respecting you.”
“If you didn’t come to see me, what are you doing in my bar? You never come here. You hate country music.”
A rasp had settled into Dusty’s voice—his voice that sounded far too near. Liz stopped her trek for the door and turned back, barely stifling her gasp. He stood inches away, and the look in his eyes was both challenging and predatory. She took an involuntary step to the side. Her butt brushed against a pool table and she scowled. He could corner her all he wanted; she wouldn’t be intimidated.
She narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you suck at remembering as much as you do at fucking. I told you earlier, I came here looking for someone to screw. I wanted a change of pace from the metro scene.”
He nodded at the bar’s exit. The last of the patrons had disappeared into the night. “Looks like you’re shit outta luck.” With a cocky grin, he brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Unless you were planning on the guy being an employee, in which case I’m sure we can work something out.”
Heat shot through her, jetting from her lips to her nipples to her core. For a second time, Liz just managed to catch her stunned gasp before it could leave her mouth.
What was it about him? Not only could he get her wet when she was fully clothed, but his simple touch had her sizzling.
She jerked her face away. “Yeah, your memory obviously sucks, or what part of ‘I’m hooking up in the parking lot’ did you miss?” Placing a hand on his chest, she attempted to push him out of her path. “He should be out there now. In other words, get the hell out of my way.”
He glanced at her hand but stood firm. “Does this mystery guy have a name?”
No, but she could pull one out of her ass as easily as the next woman—anything not to re-dredge thoughts of the hard wall of pure masculinity beneath her palm. She dropped her hand away. “Aiden.”
The look in his eye turned to something dangerous, at least to her common sense. He moved closer, until he was seriously messing with her personal space. His gaze on her mouth, he brought his hand back to her lips and rubbed the lower one with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me, Liz,” he said quietly, huskily, in a way that had her heart hammering, “does Aiden’s kiss make you wet?”
“One brush and I’m ready to come.” Oh gawd! Nice breathy voice. She sounded ready to throw herself at him.
“Just a brush.” Dusty’s warm breath whispered along her cheeks and, it seemed, every nerve in her body. He slid forward, barely a movement at all, but enough to have their bodies touching, his chest rubbing teasingly against her breasts, his erection pressing against her sex.
So
