Page 2 of Tempting Kat
“She's too young,” I say, more to myself than Santiago.
“She's grown.” Santiago shrugs. “And she looks at you too, when you're not watching.”
That gets my attention. “Bullshit.”
“I don't lie, hermano.” He takes another bite. “But you're the boss. Your call.”
I turn back to watch her. She's wiping down the bar now, bending over in a way that makes my throat tight. Her hair falls forward, and she tucks it behind her ear with a casual flick. I want to fist my hand in it, pull her head back, expose her throat.
Kat glances our way, catches me watching. Instead of looking away, she holds my gaze, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Then she fucking winks before turning back to her customers.
“You could fire her,” Santiago suggests, following my gaze. “Then get her out of your system.”
“And then what?” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Never see her again? Fuck that.”
Kat bends down to grab something from under the bar, and I nearly choke on my food. Those shorts are practically swallowing her ass cheeks, and I can make out the lace edge of whatever underwear she's wearing.
“You're forty-four, man.” Santiago shakes his head. “She's?—”
“I know exactly how old she is.” My voice comes out harder than intended. “I've seen her file.”
“She's gonna be trouble for you,” Santiago says, taking another bite.
“She already is.” I drain half my beer, trying to cool the heat building inside me. “That's the goddamn problem.”
Santiago claps me on the back, jarring me from my thoughts. “Gotta check on the delivery in the back. New tequila shipment came in today.” He slides off the stool, pointing at my half-eaten food. “Finish that. Mariana will ask.”
Now I'm alone with my food and my hard-on, watching Kat work the bar like she owns the place. The way she moves, confident and casual, makes me want to see if she'd be that confident riding my cock.
I force myself to look down at my phone, scrolling through emails I've already read. Anything to stop staring at her like some fucking creep. It's not working.
When I look up, she's standing right in front of me, those green eyes sparkling.
“Mm,” she says, leaning over the bar, “your meat smells so good.”
My brain short-circuits, immediately thinking she's talking about me. Like she can smell my want for her, the way I've been hard since she walked in.
“What?” I manage, my voice rough.
She points at my plate, her lips quirking up. “Your meat,” she says, drawing out the words. “Your meat smells good.”
I glance down at the remains of the carne asada, then back at her face. She's smirking, fully aware of where my mind went.
“You want a taste?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Her eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, I think I've gone too far. Then she leans in closer, her tits nearly spilling out of the ripped shirt.
“Depends on what you're offering, Mr. Mysterious.”
I spear a piece of meat with my fork and hold it out to her. Her eyes never leave mine as she leans forward, wrapping those plush lips around the tines. She pulls back slowly, a small moan escaping as she chews.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“Santiago's wife make that?” She licks her lips, and I track the movement of her tongue like it's the last drop of water in a desert.
“Yeah.”
“Lucky you.” She reaches for my beer, takes a sip from my bottle. Her lipstick leaves a mark on the glass. “I'm starving. Been too busy to eat.”
