12. Kaycia
Chapter 12
Kaycia
D ragging my eyes from Shane as we approach the open door of the bar, all I can think is, He’s right. Why are we going to this show?
I’m a little tipsy, but it’s only served to make me more assertive than I would usually be. Dinner was fun, even if he shied away from some of the more personal questions I asked. That kiss was more than fun. I have to keep myself from touching my lips thinking about the heat between us as I watch him clap hands with the bouncer and pull him into one of those back-patting hugs men do.
He’s so damn attractive in a devil-may-care kind of way, confident and quiet, sweet but protective. He even made sure he was walking on the outside of the sidewalk as he guided me along the streets, on alert for things lurking in the dark. Blinking away my musings, I let him guide me through the door into the neon glow of the bar with a broad palm against my lower back.
It’s one of those newly-remodeled-to-look-dirty, trendy kind of dive bars and reminds me of some of the haunts I used to go to with Meg for cheap drinks when we were in college and wanted to avoid the frat boy crowd. Old neon beer signs hang on the walls, the clack of billiards echoes over music, and a small stage sits at the back. Tall tables line the left side, a hallway disappears beyond with a jukebox and antique cigarette dispenser crowding the opening, and on the right is the bar. Jamila waves when she spots us, her smile genuine and wide. She looks gorgeous. Her dark brown skin is luminous in the glow of the neon signs, and she has her curvy figure on display in a tight white tank top and jeans. A bar rag hangs from her back pocket, swinging when she turns to grab two longnecks from the cooler. A shimmering gold headband that coordinates with her jewelry rests in her short, natural coils and catches the light as she moves.
As we wave and head over, I track where she’s carrying the longnecks—Raquel and Max are already at the far end of the bar, two other musicians with them. My mood is already high, but seeing our new friends and having Shane’s palm on my lower back nearly makes me giddy with excitement for the much needed night out.
“You two finally made it!” Raquel calls, standing to hug both of us tightly. She’s wearing what I’m learning is her usual: black tee, black jeans, black boots. Tonight, her long dark hair is in a single braid down her back. Max is the perfect blend of trendy and disheveled in a vintage tee and ripped jeans.
“They’re not even on stage yet. We had to have dinner,” Shane grumbles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I tuck myself against him, beaming at everyone.
“Damn, Shane. Who’s this?” one of the new guys asks, looking me up and down. I swear Shane growls in irritation at the attention.
“This is Kaycia. Kaycia, this is Ryan and Jet.” Shane points out the two men in turn, but his voice isn’t friendly. His body language isn’t either.
Max smacks the one named Jet on the shoulder and he holds his hands up. “Ah, no offense. I didn’t know she was your girl, man.”
“She’s not,” Raquel offers with a gleeful grin and a wink before whispering loudly behind her hand to me, “at least not yet.” Shane gives her a sharp look, but I just laugh, brushing off her teasing, and turn toward the bar to look at the drink options lined up on the top shelf. It’s nice to be out. To have people to joke with.
“What do you want to drink?” Jamila calls over the music from the jukebox.
“Two light beers,” I answer, slipping from Shane’s grasp to lean on the bar. “That’s okay with you, yeah?” I ask him over my shoulder, catching his eyes scanning down my back before he nods. I can’t fight the grin on my face when I turn back to Jamila. I’m not saying I like possessive assholes, but I could get used to Shane looking at me like I’m a second dessert.
There’s still time before the band is scheduled to play, so I settle onto the bar stool next to Max. Shane stands at my back, his side against the bar so we both face our companions. He keeps one arm around me, fingers toying with his beer bottle, while his other hand explores my back. His fingers drift between the strands of my hair, sometimes caressing the bare skin of my shoulders and upper back. It’s warm in the bar, but I maintain goosebumps from his casual touch, my belly coiled tight and warm in response.
We make small talk for another ten minutes or so, but I don’t really hear anything over my rapid heartbeat as I focus on Shane’s covert caresses. As showtime nears, the room begins to fill and Jamila gets busier with customers. Max and his bandmates head to the stage where their gear is set up and waiting, leaving me with Shane and Raquel while Jamila pops tops and pours liquor alongside another female bartender.
“Where did you go for dinner?” Raquel asks, glancing between me and Shane. He’s stepped away now, angling himself so he can scan the room and still talk to us. His beer casually dangles from his fingers, but his gaze is focused as though he’s looking for someone or something to jump out and bite us.
“This cute place called The Wilde Hart.”
“Oh, shit. Shane, you really worked the romance angle tonight, didn’t you? That place is so pretty!” Raquel and I laugh while Shane shrugs and takes a swig of beer like it was no big deal.
“They have good food,” he insists.
When I glance up at him again though, his eyes are soft and he gives me a little half-smile.
The noise of the bar quiets as the band plugs in. People turn in their seats and shift where they stand at the edges of the bar to listen. The middle of the floor opens for dancing and a few people wait eagerly for the music to begin. The jukebox played a mix of genres, so I don’t know what to expect when Max begins to play. I hang back with Shane before committing to dancing.
The first song has a flirty country vibe and several women, and a few of the men, openly make advances toward Max from the dance floor—just like I imagined when we first met. He’s a natural flirt, clearly enjoying the attention with a broad grin plastered across his face. The second song is folksy, and I catch myself swaying to the tune as I lean into Shane’s side. His scent envelops me and I close my eyes to soak in his proximity. By the third song, they’ve slowed down further, beginning a tune with lyrics that are sad and romantic at the same time.
“Come on,” Shane whispers in my ear, brushing my hair from my shoulder to plant a light kiss on my neck. “Let’s dance.”
Shivering from his kiss, I nod and leave my half-empty beer on the counter next to Raquel, letting him lead me through the crowd and onto the floor where a few other couples also dance. When he pulls me close, hands on my lower back, I immediately wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my cheek against his chest where I can hear his heart thundering over the beat of the song. We sway together, bodies pressed close under the neon lights as the song nearly drowns me with emotion. I pull back far enough to look up at Shane, to find him gazing down at me, too. For a moment, tension fizzes between us, seeming to tug me closer to him. Then we’re kissing again, just like in the shadows out front. The other couples disappear, the crowd, the band, and it’s just us and this moment.
I don’t know if it’s the beer, the atmosphere, my aching desire, or everything rolled into one that gives me the courage, but I pull back and whisper, “Where’s the restroom?”
Shane’s brow furrows as he cocks his head. “Oh, it’s down the hall. I think the women’s is on the right?”
“Show me.” I tug him along behind me, past the band where Max gives him a curious glance before starting his next verse, and down the dim hallway.
Still confused, Shane points to the door marked with a painted cowgirl. Despite the crowd, it’s still too early in the night for a line and shockingly there’s no one inside when I push open the door. I’m still gripping his hand in mine and pull him in behind me.
“Kaycia, what—” Shane’s shock is interrupted by my lips as I press him against the door and kiss him.
Any protests he might have die as his touch becomes urgent, his kisses deeper, nipping at my lower lip, my throat, the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder. He slips the thin strap of my dress down and kisses the curve of my shoulder, dragging his lips to the top of my breast, as I run my fingers through his hair and lean my head back to give him access to my heated skin. When his lips return to mine his kisses grow more desperate, like he fears I’ll disappear. We both suck in ragged gasps when we break apart.
Shane’s hands skate over the floral fabric of my dress, then slide under the flowy skirt and over my skin, lotioned earlier in the hope he’d do exactly that. I grind against him as he grips my ass, seeking the friction of his evident arousal pressing against the fly of his jeans.
“Fuck, Kaycia,” he murmurs against my neck, his fingers drifting around until they slide over the lace of my panties. I whimper and arch into his touch, wanting him to stroke me again. “Your panties are soaked.” A little thrill runs over me at his words; the verbal acknowledgment of how badly I want him. Want this .
“Shane, I want you,” I whisper. I reach behind him and turn the master lock on the bathroom door, looking up into his eyes. They’ve gone almost completely black in the dim room and I fight the urge to pull at his clothes. His gaze is no longer sweet like it was earlier in the night, it’s gone hungry with his need, like I’m truly prey waiting to be taken for a meal, and a deep rumble in his chest sends goosebumps over me.
“Gods, Kaycia, you have no idea how badly I want you, too,” he breathes against my ear, running his hand up my side, palming my breast through the thin cotton of my dress, and then stroking my hardened nipple with his thumb. His other hand still explores under my skirt, slipping under the lace of my thong and sliding over the slick heat of my core. I moan as he teases my entrance, circling my clit and then sliding through my center before finally inserting his fingers into me.
“But you’re going to have to wait.” He slides those clever fingers in a little farther, then teases me slowly before pulling them from under my skirt.
“What?” I pant, confused and aching as he inspects the slick arousal on his two fingers. I don’t know if I’m going to come or combust when he parts his lips and slides them into his mouth, savoring the taste like he dipped his fingers in a jar of honey before he removes them from his mouth and slides them between my own parted lips.
“I’ve waited months to ask you out,” he whispers against my ear. “I’m not going to fuck you against the dirty wall of a dive bar bathroom. I want to see that pretty little sundress on my apartment floor.”
My knees go weak at his words, at the taste of my arousal on his fingers in my mouth. Before I know what’s happened, he pulls his hand back, reaching under my skirt once again. The sharp sound of lace tearing is barely audible over the music in the bathroom. Then, I’m bare under my skirt and my shredded lacy thong is in his hand.
His eyes are still dark and desirous as he grins at me. “This way I know you’re ready for me when we get back home.”
He shoves my panties in his pocket, leans down to plant a rough, claiming kiss on my mouth, and then turns me toward the door with a squeeze to my ass cheek. I catch sight of my flushed expression in the full-length mirror as we walk by.
I barely recognize the wild couple in the reflection, but I like their style.