Page 3 of Rocky Mountain Home
“I have no problems lasting. I’ll take you to the finish line.”
When she smiled, her eyes lit up, a dimple denting her right cheek. By the time they’d finished their third glass of whiskey, Jesse was tempted to lean over to take a taste of her.
“Your local bar?” he asked.
“Hell, no.” She stared into her glass. “I tried drinking too close to home the first year, and my brothers showed up. Where’s the fun in that?”
Jesse took note of the information. She had family somewhere. “Good to know you’ve got someone looking after you.”
She raised a brow. “Do I look as if I need a babysitter, sweetheart? Last time I checked I was a big girl. I can make my own damn mistakes.”
He rested his arm along the back of her chair as they tipped the next drink, the liquid tingling against his throat and gums as he took the hit. Dare turned toward him, half laughing, her eyes bright as she met his gaze, and for a second Jesse couldn’t breathe.
Right then he could have sworn he was twelve feet tall and invincible.
They put their glasses on the counter at the exact same moment, and a sudden crack echoed. Dare cursed, lifting her fingers to her mouth, her glass lying broken in pieces on the counter.
“You okay?” Jesse asked as the bartender slipped over to clean up the shards.
Dare pulled back her hand and examined it as she wrinkled her nose. “I’ll live.”
“Not your fault,” the bartender consoled her. “Looks as if we got a bad batch of glassware—next drink is on the house, okay?”
“No worries.”
Jesse slipped his hand off the backrest and onto her shoulder. “You need a Band-Aid?”
She held up her hand, the minute cut barely visible. “It’s fine. Unless you wanna kiss it better?”
Oh, that he could do. He slid his fingers into the heavy weight of her auburn hair. Her mouth opened slightly, her tongue slipping over her lips as she stared. There wasn’t a single sign of retreat anywhere about her.
Jesse leaned in to brush their lips together for a split second. Teasing, taunting. Just to prime her senses.
She caught him in a full-on hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and keeping him close as her lips parted and let him in.
Instead of a brief taste he got the equivalent of chugging a full twenty-sixer of the essence of Dare. Instantly higher than a kite, his mind reeled as he slid his tongue against hers, upper bodies close enough the soft curve of her breasts pressed against his chest.
When they pulled back, they were both breathing hard. Staring at each other, hunger and desire rising. He was rarely tongue-tied, but right then for the life of him he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
The bartender saved him, the clink of glasses against the tile countertop jerking their gazes apart as they turned toward the noise.
“This round your liver gets a reprieve,” the man joked. “Either of you want anything from the kitchen? They’re closing down soon.”
The only thing Jesse wanted was to take Dare back to his room and strip her. He’d be happy feasting on her all night long, but it was too soon—far too soon—to make that kind of comment without sending her running.
“Just the drinks.” Dare waited until the man walked away before grabbing the skewer from her drink, the one that held three maraschino cherries.
Jesse glanced at his own drink, horror sliding up his spine. Some god-awful fruity concoction sat there instead of the whiskey they’d been consuming like water.
Time to make the best of a bad situation. He ignored the drink, wrapping his fingers around hers and lifting the cherry-laden stick to his lips. He made eye contact as he tugged the first red-bomb off with his teeth then bit into it.
Her smile widened, heat flaring between them.
“You stole my cherry. Now you gotta marry me,” she warned.
Jesse damn near choked in mid-swallow, checking quickly to see if she was serious.
She offered a cheeky grin then pulled the second cherry off the stick, rolling it against her teeth with her tongue in the lewdest way as she looked him over. His body went tight, and he decided right then and there the party was not ending in the bar.
