3. Sonya
Sonya
B y the time the sun dipped behind the horizon, I was done feeling sorry for myself.
I’d moped. I’d unpacked. I’d reorganized my skin care jars and bottles three times.
None of it changed the fact that I was living in a town with no mall, no nightlife, and no good late night eateries to soak up a night of drinking.
It wasn’t just the size of Seville that got to me, it was what I’d left behind.
My life in Boston, a life I’d built without being overshadowed by Coach Mac.
My job, that I’d earned and secured myself. My rhythm.
Come Monday, I would be starting a new job that felt like a second chance wrapped in a punishment.
I needed something, anything , to make me feel like myself again.
“I need a night out.” So, I put on my hot pink bodycon dress, slipped into my nude Ferragamo pumps, and sauntered into a local pub, crossing my fingers that it wasn’t one of those de facto hockey bars.
It was called Hat Trick so I hoped it was a good, old-fashioned dive bar with strong drinks and twenty-year-old bar games like darts and foosball.
If they served something other than domestic beer and bottom shelf booze, I’d consider it a win.
I was too dressed up for Hat Trick but there was no way in hell I was going back to change.
Besides, I looked damn good and I felt even better.
I stood tall and walked across the dim space before taking a seat on the stool dead center of the bar.
It was the perfect spot for watching people, getting a feel for the town and all while getting a little bit tipsy.
The lights were low and yellow, totally unflattering but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Pool balls smacked together across the felt somewhere in the back, low conversations hummed all around me and a soft pop-rock played overhead.
It wasn’t quite a dive bar but it had quality dive bar vibes, the kind of place I loved before I got my first fake I.D. in Boston.
This place had potential.
Hat Trick was mostly denim and plaid, a few Thunderhawks jerseys here and there. My dress, tight and bright, lit me up like a neon sign, and I felt eyes on me as I spun on the stool to people-watch.
Good. Let them look.
I was a feast for their eyes.
I ordered an Old Fashioned, even though my instincts leaned toward a highball. I didn’t want to stick out more than I already did. Besides, there was something satisfyingly grown-up about drinking bourbon in a town full of beer. And denim.
So much denim.
As I turned to scan the room, a few guys tried to strike up conversation.
One complimented my dress and another told me I looked like trouble.
Cute. Ish. But I wasn’t in the mood for pretty words or shallow flirting.
Pretty is boring. I wanted someone who could wow me.
Someone who didn’t try so hard, but in this crowd wearing this dress? That was asking for too much.
And that was when he bumped into me.
The second his shoulder brushed mine, I straightened up, ready to let him have it. But then I looked up.
Way up.
The man was tall. Like, I’d-bet-the-farm-he’s-over-six-three tall.
He was turning toward someone behind him, his profile sharp under the brim of a black cowboy hat.
Cowboy hat! His long black hair curled just above his shoulders, and when he turned fully to face me, I met the most striking sapphire-blue eyes I’d ever seen.
His gaze dipped briefly over my body—appreciative but not lewd—before landing back on my face. “Sorry about that. You okay, honey?”
Under normal circumstances, the honey would’ve earned him a solid eye roll. But his voice was smooth and low, with just enough gravel to make my stomach dip. It wrapped around me like whiskey and heat.
Like a whiskey, neat.
“I’m not as fragile as I look,” I shot back, lifting my chin in defiance.
He looked down, his half-smile said he was clearly amused. “Nothing about you looks fragile, except maybe those shoes.”
I laughed, kicking my leg out slightly so the heel caught the light. “These? They are totally harmless.”
His smile was low and crooked, one corner pulling up like he knew a secret I hadn’t figured out yet.
He leaned against the bar beside me, radiating calm and quiet confidence in jeans and a dark gray henley that hugged his arms a little too well.
And then he laughed again and it slid over me like a lover’s caress.
The bartender dropped off two drinks and I grabbed one and took a sip. “Oh, no! That’s not what I…hey!” The big sexy cowboy plucked the short glass from my hands. I glared at him but it only earned me another of those heinously masculine laughs.
“That one is mine.” He grinned and slid the other glass toward me. “This one’s yours.”
I frowned slightly, looking from my drink to his, confusion etched between my brows. “They look the same.” I sat a little taller and glared at him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,” I began but he held up a hand to stop my words.
Next, he held up his glass to the light. “See the color difference? Mine’s got sweet vermouth. Yours doesn’t.”
I arched a brow. “What are you, some kind of cocktail expert?” That would be totally unexpected and not at all unwelcome.
His smile widened, and he leaned in just enough for me to catch a whiff of leather and cedar with just a hint of warm cinnamon underneath. “I’m an expert in all kinds of things.”
Of course he was. His voice held a promise that slithered down my chest between my breasts and settled right between my thighs. That also wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Hmm,” was my only response.
He extended a hand, and I took it. His grip was firm but not aggressive. Confident. “Nick,” he said.
“Sonya.”
He didn’t let go right away. “So, inquiring minds are wondering. Are those curves the dress or are they real?”
I didn’t blink. His question was unexpected and the heat in his gaze was one hundred percent sincere. “What are you hoping to hear?”
He stepped closer, voice dropping low enough to make my pulse stutter. “I’m hoping like fuck that’s all you under that dress, because I’ve been dreaming about peeling it off since I saw you walk in.”
My breath caught. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them. No smirk. No games. Just honesty dipped in heat.
“You’re really bold,” I said and yeah, the words stupid to my ears too.
He shrugged. “I go after what I want.”
And that? That was hot. A man who spoke his mind was a rare find, and his words lit a fire deep inside of me.
I took a slow sip of my drink, my eyes on his over the rim. Then I set the glass down, leaned in, and said softly, “Kiss me.” I wasn’t a shy virgin but I also wasn’t usually so bold but tonight I felt different.
His brow lifted. “Come again?”
“I said kiss me. I don’t want to waste my time on a guy who can’t kiss. So before this goes any further…” I tilted my head slightly. “Kiss me.”
Nick didn’t move right away but his gaze never left me.
He finished his drink in one long pull, then set the glass down carefully.
When he turned to me, his body pressed mine gently into the bar, firm but not forceful.
One hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, and then he kissed me.
And holy hell, he could kiss.
It started slow. Controlled. Teasing. But then his lips parted mine, his tongue swept against mine, and it turned into something else—something darker and deeper.
His mouth was hot and skilled, and his body warm and hard where it touched mine.
His hand was steady behind my neck as I melted into him, tilting me back to deepen the kiss.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise.
When he finally pulled back, I had to fight the urge to chase after his mouth for more. More of him. More of his taste.
“Damn, Sonya,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges.
“Damn indeed.” My body trembled with need and my nipples were so hard they ached. I was more turned on by a kiss than I’d been since Wyatt Simpson, the first—and only until now—man to show me what a real kiss felt like. This was better than that kiss by a factor of ten. Maybe a thousand.
We stared at each other, breath mingling, heat crackling between us like static. I tucked my hair behind my ear, smiling slowly. I felt unsteady in the moment, unsure what to do or say next.
“Well,” I finally said, “now that we’ve cleared that up there’s just one thing left to discuss. Your place or mine?”
Nick reached for my hand without hesitation, dragging me from the bar with his free hand resting low on my back.
Urgency vibrated off his big frame and sent a frisson of something pulsing through me.
Outside, as the cool night air wrapped around us, his piercing gaze shot back to me. “Which is closer?”
I hesitated, then smiled. “I move into my place next week. For now, I’m crashing with a friend.”
He grinned, eyes gleaming. “My place it is.”
With my hand still in his, Nick pulled me down the sidewalk and across the street to a big blue SUV. “Too bad,” I whispered. “I’ve never made out in the bed of a pickup truck before.”
His lips tugged into a lopsided grin as he opened the passenger door. “Maybe next time.”
When he said those words it didn’t sound like a threat, but a very dirty promise. He opened the passenger door like a damn gentleman. “For now, let’s get you inside.” He gripped my hips and lifted me like I weighed nothing—which was seriously hot—and placed me in the passenger seat.
“My legs work, you know.”
He grinned, just a few inches from my face as he secured my seatbelt. “I’m sure they do. In fact, I look forward to testing just how well they work.” He winked, then stepped back before he slowly closed the door.
As he rounded the front of the truck, I bit my lip at the sight of his very fine denim-clad ass and squeezed my knees together to stop the arousal that pulsed from the bottom of my feet all the way to the top of my head.
No expectations. No pressure.
Just chemistry.
Just tonight.
Just a little bit of fun.
Nick slid behind the steering wheel and turned to me with a slow, almost hypnotic smile. “Ready?”
“No.” The word flew from my mouth before I knew what I was saying. In the next second, the seatbelt came off, and I was pressed up against Nick with his face in my hands, his scruff scratching my palms. Because I couldn’t resist for another second, I touched my lips to his and I kissed him.
I kissed him like I meant it.
I kissed him like he was the last man on Earth and this was our last night.
And I planned to enjoy it.
Completely.