Page 2 of Vinter
She lowered her forehead to the bar. That twinge inside her gut, gnawed at her. Where had her character judgments gone so wrong? When had her ability to read people become so flawed? She used to be able to read people because she watched more than she talked. What had happened that she couldn’t choose a guy anymore who was worth anything, who wasn’t a loser or a liar? What had happened to her once-upon-a-time, never-let-her-down intuition?
Tattoo Man leaned in close. His breath whispered into her ear, and fanned across her skin. She had to fight the shiver, fight not to lift her head, fight to keep from turning it a fraction of an inch to her right. “Let me take care of you.”
And then there was hot and yummy next to her. Her intuition was screaming loud and clear in regard to him.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t. You. Dare. Ask.“Take care of me how?” Dammit. She couldn’t help but ask though. No man had ever said those words to her. It didn’t matter right then what he wanted to do to her, how he meant those words. All that mattered was that he’d said them, offered them.
He smelled of beer, of smoke, and of every sinful thought she’d ever had. Guys like Tattoo Man never looked at her twice. Normal, everyday, business men did. They were the ones she thought she needed. They were the one’s she thought were like her. Corporate. Buttoned-up. He asked why she would waste her time with a married man. Had she known, she wouldn’t have.
Damn.
Talk about a wake up call.
Or wake up text.
Her blood flowed like lava through her veins, hot and thick. Looking at him, her imagination ran wild. Thoughts of all he could do with that voice, those hands, that mouth, and that body. Tattoo Man was the type of hot-blooded man she’d always wanted, but never the type she ended up attracting.
Until now, that is.
He winked and one corner of his mouth tilted up as he sat back again. “You. Me. A bed. Naked. Fucking all thoughts of that loser right out of your pretty head.”
She should’ve been shocked at his frankness. She shouldn’t have been turned on by it.
He couldn’t be serious, could he? The look in his eyes told her that yes, he was very serious. Oh wow. When? Where? For how long? “I don’t think—”
He gave a sharp shake of his head and reached for her drink. “No,” With his eyes trained on her, he took a swallow that would have choked her going down, but didn’t faze him at all. When he put the glass back down, half the liquid was gone. “This isn’t one of those thinking moments. This is one of those go-for-it ‘doing’ moments. I want you to smile big and bright and I want to see tears in your eyes because you’ve come so much, because you’ve come so hard. I want you to walk funny because I've been inside you for hours and you don’t me to stop.”
Well … She had no words. None. When put like that, how could she? And how could she say no?
N.O.
No.
But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She might not get the happy ending with Tattoo Man, but he was offering her a down and dirty good time. He was offering her the kind of naughty sex she’d only ever dreamed about and she couldn’t, wouldn’t say no to him. She wanted to be able to say she’d had a bad boy.
She’d think about the consequences later. Then, she’d have that talk with her intuition and find out why it was only now deciding to start issuing warnings. For tonight, though, she was going to make at least one fantasy come true.
She’d swear off men, for sure, tomorrow.
She grabbed her purse and began to pull her wallet out, but he stayed her hand and the contact was electric. Jolts of hunger and need traveled through her body. She knew he felt it, too, when the ice blue of his eyes darkened, taking on a smoky-blue hue.
“It’s on the house.”
His voice had deepened as well, rumbling through her. They said fantasy was always better than real life, but she was going to have to disagree in this instance. The reality of him was going to be better than any erotic dream she'd ever had. “What about the other drink? I still need to pay for it.”
“That one’s on the house, too.”
“Oh.” She was fresh out of stalling tactics. “Well, in that case …”
Vinter grinned again. He couldn’t help it. He’d watched her from the moment she walked in. He’d had innocent intentions from the get-go. He only wanted to say hello, talk to her for a few minutes, give her a friendly ear, listen to whatever her story was. That was often why people ended up in a bar for the first time. They didn’t know where else to go. They wanted to get lost in a place no one would know them and some would open up in that safe environment of anonymity.
Vinter had wanted to know what brought her into his bar. Getting her into bed had been the farthest thing from his mind. But, the second he sat next to her and she turned those big emerald eyes on him, he’d been a goner.
Lust flared when she looked at him, and his gut twisted into a knot that slid down to his nuts and tugged hard. She tried to bank it, to mask it, but it remained steady as her eyes traveled up and down his body. Her gaze lingered on his tats, then zeroed in on his mouth. He would have kissed her, but had the feeling the second his lips touched hers, they’d be on top of the bar making out, naked. Not that he would care.
“What’s your name?” he asked, crooking his finger, beckoning her closer.
“Does it matter?” Her steps were hesitant.
