Page 35 of All Your Firsts

I slowly look her up and down. My blood is fucking boiling. So much for the calming ride here.

She’s in the outfit from the fitting room that I told her not to get. It shows every curve of her delicate, flawless tanned fleshand makes me want to bend her over and spank the living shit out of her.

She looks delicious, and I hate that everyone gets to see it.

How the hell did she even get a job here, and how did I not know about it? The club owns the bar.

She doesn’t know anyone in town, and there’s no way she’s been sneaking here. I’m always here.

I look around the bar and spot Jess talking to Char. Bingo. Jess must be helping her, even after I told her the very short version of the situation. What a little traitor. And I grew up with her, for shit’s sake.

I look over at Ax, who has a smile on his face like he knows shit’s about to go down between me and Rosie with her blindsiding the fuck out of me.

I sidetrack him by nodding in Jess’s direction as she now talks to some guy in khakis and a polo. Ax gets up right away without a word.Payback’s a bitch, Jess.

Rosie looks around the table until she spots me, then pauses. Her eyes go wide in shock before shifting her gaze and looking back at the guys. She didn’t expect to see me here, which pisses me off even more. How long did she think she could hide working here from me?

“Oh, there’s something you can get me, beautiful. What are your plans after work?” Trey asks with a bright-ass smile as he leans in closer to her.

“Just going home,” Rosie says as she looks at me. Smart girl.

“How about you have another drink with us?”

“Two’s my limit. Is there anything else?”

She’s been drinking? I peer into her eyes, which are a glassy green with a hint of red.

She won’t be working here after tonight.

“We’ll just have another round of beers,” I mutter abruptly before she’s able to answer.

This is who they’re talking about. The fresh meat. Rosie. My Rosie. Over my dead fucking body.

The guys and I have been friends for fifteen years, but there’s no way in hell I’d let any of them touch her. The thought makes my heart beat faster and my fists clench.

She isn’t under my skin. She’s in my veins. The very blood that pumps through my heart.

“Of course. Coming right up,” she says and scurries away.

My gaze fixes on her ass; her leather skirt creeps up with each stride she takes. My hands form fists as I look around to see if anyone else is noting the way she looks the way I am. There are a few, and it doesn’t help the smiles she gives each customer. Those smiles aren’t meant for them.

What am I going to do with her?

“Bro, what was that about? We’re trying to ease her into coming home with us tonight. Not scare her away,” Trey says while narrowing his nearly colorless eyes at me. They give him a sinister appearance, accompanied by tattoos—mostly intricate sacred geometry pieces courtesy of me—covering his shaved head and the rest of his body. Rosie would never go for someone like him. “She’ll be perfect. She’s a little innocent, but I’m sure—”

“Dibs,” I say for the first and last time.

Since we’ve been kids, they’ve always called dibs on girls they wanted, and whoever said it first got the girl, making the other guys back off. The competition was fierce since we live in such a small town, and the options have always been limited. Now, it’s apparently my turn.

“Nah, bro, we saw her first. Also, what the fuck? You’ve never dibsed a chick before,” Julian says, looking shocked before blowing a kiss to someone walking by. Now, he is someone she might go for. Julian has that easygoing smile, fuck-boy hairstyle, and diamond earrings you could probably see from space. I don’t like the thought of them together.

I shrug. “Now I have.”

“Damn, Vic, never thought I’d see the day,” Marcus mutters as he takes another pull from his beer. He won’t argue with me claiming her because, frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck. Where Trey and Julian are demented social butterflies, he’s stoic and unapproachable. His imposing, well over six-foot frame, wild shoulder-length hair and beard, and face adorned with tattoos contribute to his ‘stay the fuck away’ demeanor.

Trey looks over at me. “Why her?”

“She’s off-limits.”

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