Page 15 of Bullseye
Frankly, I could use some black coffee to sober me up as well, but my need for sobering doesn’t have anything to do with the booze.
She throws three darts but hits the double ring. Frowning, she turns back to me, and her lush bottom lip juts out. Okay. We’ve both had enough tequila.
After I’m certain she makes it to the table okay, I hit the mark and take my shot. “Bullseye.” Grinning, I turn to her. “We almost lost track, but it’s your turn to answer some questions.”
“What else do you want to know?” She takes a long swallow from her bottle. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow, skeptically. Somewhere, hidden behind that tough exterior and armor of black leather, multiple ear piercings, and punk hair, are secrets. I can see them.
I know secrets. And the thing I can tell about her secrets is that these particular ones must be so painful, she’s buried them in the deepest regions of her soul. And I’m desperate to find out what they are.Hypocrite. It’s not like I’ll be sharing mine any time soon.
“I don’t think you’ve told me anything,” I tease. My voice is low, and I stand close to her. It’s almost like we’re talking while we’re basking in the afterglow. “If I recall, your answer to, ‘Where and when were you born?’ was, ‘Long, long ago in a town far, far away’.” Nodding at her, I smile. “It’s okay. We all have our secrets.”
Her eyes flash then. She’s interested. And I can tell by the slight sway in her stance that she may be drunk enough to reveal more.
“Come on, at least tell me your age.”
“I’m twenty-four.” She sighs. “You?”
“Twenty-six. And that was my turn, not yours. So, just remember I gave you a freebie, and what a great guy I am.”
“That may be hard to forget,” she mumbles.
For some reason, her kind words and unfounded trust in me—when I’m completely undeserving of it—sit in the pit of my stomach. I wait for that dull ache that feels like I’ve just been punched, but it doesn’t come. Instead, the feeling radiates downward… making my night-long hard-on even stiffer.
“I’m not such a good guy, Seneca.”
“I’ll bet that’s not true,” she says, offering me another dart.
Clearing my throat and taking the dart from her, I come up right next to her again. “Okay, we said secrets, not facts. So, whoever wins this shot has to answer something real. ‘If I had anything I wanted, I would have a man—or woman—who…’ and we fill in the blank.”
“Okay,” she agrees. Hopping up onto one of the barstools next to our table, she leans back, resting against the high top. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Throwing the dart, I hit the bullseye.
“I’m not even going to try,” she jokes, yawning.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s three-thirty in the morning. Most of the other prospects have gone home, which means she’s staying for me. There’s no doubt about it.
The bar’s mostly empty now except for a few stragglers, Seth and Bucky, and Harry, but frankly, right now, I don’t care who sees me do what. I have that driving force of a man who may have nothing left to lose.
Walking to her chair, I place my hands on the table, one on each side of her, trapping her between my arms. When she looks up at me, her eyes are suddenly full of fire, and very awake.
“So? Your turn to answer, and then I’m dropping you off at your house.” The diner will have to be some other time.
“My bike.”
“No one would dare touch it here.” I can’t help the smirk that crawls across my face.
“I guess that’s true.”
“So? Answer. ‘If I had anything I wanted, I would have a man who…’”
“Who liked to hold me, protectively, in his arms.” Her eyes are half-closed when she speaks, and it’s like the little area I’ve created between us suddenly becomes charged. “Your turn. ‘If you could have anything you wanted, you’d have a woman who…?’”
“Liked when I held her.” I move closer, closing the gap between us.
“And?”
