Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
EAMON
I get to the club three hours before doors open, which is absurd, but I can’t help myself. Last night and this morning loop through my head, stuck on repeat. Dee’s mouth on mine, her legs around my waist, the way she trembled when I touched her and didn’t even try to hide it.
The club is dark and silent, and I don’t bother with the overheads, just punch in the security code and let the red and white glow of the exit signs guide me through the maze of empty tables.
I head up to my office and get to work on payroll.
The numbers on the screen blur after five minutes.
Useless. I can't even focus on decimals or overtime rates with my brain replaying the way Dee melted under my hands.
The way she wrapped around me like I was the only damn thing keeping her tethered to earth.
Fuck. I’m so far gone, and I don’t even fucking care anymore.
My phone buzzes when Dee’s alarm code is keyed in, and I glance at the monitor screen to see her strolling in the back door.
She’s wearing a black tank and ripped jeans with her hair scraped up in a messy knot that can’t contain the explosion of caramel waves.
Her mouth is cherry red and unsmiling as she heads down the back hallway toward the employee break room.
I wait exactly seven seconds before I follow.
No point pretending I’m not completely fucking obsessed.
I stride down the hall, ignoring the way my pulse kicks up every time I catch her scent. Sunshine and something wild, like she rolled around in a field of trouble just for me. She’s got no clue I’m coming. None. I like it that way.
Dee pushes into the break room, and I’m right behind her. I flip the lock, not bothering with subtlety. She spins, eyes wide, and I don’t waste a single goddamn second.
I back her up against the row of lockers, hands at her waist, mouth on hers before either of us can think. She melts instantly, soft and sweet and hungry all at once. I kiss her like I own her. Because I fucking do.
I make a mental note to delete the security feed before Nathan gets an eyeful.
Yeah, that’s definitely going on my to-do list for the day.
The last thing I need is Nathan getting a play-by-play of me mauling Dee in the employee break room before anyone else arrives.
I already get enough shit from him as it is.
But right now? I’m not even pretending to care.
Dee’s back arches against the lockers, her mouth hot and soft under mine, and I swear I can actually taste her smartass sarcasm on my tongue. She grabs my shirt in both fists and yanks me closer, like she’s daring me to lose control. Alright, Sunshine, let’s see who cracks first.
I can’t get enough of her. Not even close.
Her hands skim under my blazer, palms flat against my ribs, and she’s not gentle about it.
She drags her nails along the skin, and I nearly lose my damn mind.
I brace one hand against the locker, trapping her in, and slide the other up under her tank until my palm is full of soft, perfect skin.
Holy hell, she’s hot to the touch. My fingers brush the edge of her bra, and she shudders, lips parting in a shocked little gasp that shoots straight to my cock.
I love how fucking responsive she is. One touch and I’ve got her melting. I brush my thumb over her nipple, slow and teasing, and it instantly goes hard under the thin fabric. Dee drags her nails down my ribs again, not even trying to play nice. I swear, my vision actually blurs for a second.
“You gonna start something, Sunshine?” My voice comes out low and rough, barely more than a growl. “Because I will finish it.”
She grins, all teeth and trouble. “Looks like you’re the one with the boundary issues, Tigger. I just walked into the break room. You’re the one who kissed me first.”
That does it. I slip my hand up the back of her shirt and unhook her bra in record time.
She gasps, and the soft, perfect, shocked little noise makes my cock nearly punch through my zipper.
I palm her breast, thumb rolling over the tight tip, and fuck me, she’s already straining toward my hand like she’s craving it as desperately as I am.
Her head thumps back against the locker. Brown eyes wide, lips wet, cheeks flushed. The sight does insane things to my brain. I want to bite her. Lick her. Mark her. All at once.
“Hurry up before we get caught,” she pants, but her body is giving up the game.
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I drop to my knees in front of her, yanking her jeans and panties down in one move as she kicks her sneakers off. I drag her legs open and bury my face in her sweet pussy. Definitely going to have to erase the video feed.
She lets out a shocked little yelp and grabs the back of my head, fingers digging tight in my hair.
I lift her perfect ass, and she wraps her legs around my head as my tongue slides deep, tasting her, and holy hell, she’s already fucking drenched.
I lap at her like I’ll never get enough, licking up every drop while she shudders and grinds against my mouth.
She’s so goddamn responsive. Every flick of my tongue, every suck on her clit, makes her moan louder.
I flatten my hands on her thighs to hold her open and just feast. She starts to tremble.
Her whole body locks up, and I know she’s close, but I’m not about to let her off easy.
I pull back and blow a cool breath over her drenched folds. She almost sobs.
“Please,” she whispers, low and desperate. Fucking hell. That word nearly unmans me. I fucking love her like this. Wild. Needy. All for me. Then someone pounds on the break room door.
Shit. I jerk upright as Dee’s face goes full cartoon panic. She yanks her jeans up so fast she almost falls over. Her bra’s hanging out of the side of her tank, and she’s got my handprint on her hip. Fuck me. I’m tempted to just ignore the knock and get back to pleasuring my woman.
I wipe my mouth with my handkerchief and try to get my shit together. Dee’s cheeks are flaming red, but she squares her chin like she can bluff her way out of murder.
I unlock the door to find Nathan staring at me with a knowing look.
He takes one look at us and smirks. “About fucking time. Please delete the security feed before you give Rafe a fucking heart attack.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I definitely don’t want the evening security guard to see that feed. Or for it to end up on the internet.
The next hour is torture. I erase the last several hours of security feed, answer emails I don’t care about, and sign off on schedules. But it’s all pointless because, every five seconds, my mind strays back to her. And why I waited so fucking long to make her mine.
Later that evening, I finish my last circuit and end up at the bar. Dee is pouring a vodka cranberry for a regular, her hands steady even as her eyes flick to me. She nods, barely a movement, but it lands like a punch.
“Need something, Tigger?” she says. Her voice is light, teasing, but the way she rolls the nickname makes it sound like a dare. It turns me on. Full stop.
Her mouth quirks, eyes locked on mine, and I can practically feel the sizzle across the bar. My cock is already half-hard from just watching her work, so when she leans in, arms braced on the counter and cleavage on full, deliberate display, I nearly lose my mind.
“Keep it up,” I say, never breaking eye contact, “and I’ll show everyone in this goddamn bar what I need.”
Her cheeks flush a little, but the smile that follows is pure trouble. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
She’s so fucking cute when she bluffs. The brown eyes, the mouth I’m dying to feel wrapped around my tongue. I can’t stop imagining what she’d do if I just vaulted the bar and dragged her off to my office.
God, I’m obsessed.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the polished wood. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“You can count on it.” She winks at me and I have to walk away before I lose what’s left of my mind.
By the time the place hits peak capacity, I’m running on nothing but espresso and adrenaline. The club’s humming, the line out the door is a mile long, and every inch of my body is coiled up and spring-loaded, waiting for the next disaster.
Roni arrives just after eight, dressed in jeans and a slouchy off-the-shoulder sweater, her blonde hair in a messy braid down her back.
She slides onto a barstool and flashes Dee the kind of smile reserved for partners in crime.
Dee beams back at her, all bright eyes and toothy grin, and I feel something inside me unclench.
I can’t hear any of it, but I don’t need to. I watch the way Roni leans in, eyes wide with curiosity, as Dee bites her bottom lip. I have no doubt she’s telling her friend what happened. And I couldn’t be happier. I want the whole fucking world to know Dee is mine.
Roni looks up and finds me watching. She gives a sly little wave and wiggles her eyebrows. I consider scowling, but then Dee glances my way, and the moment our eyes meet, her cheeks turn bright red. I nearly combust on the spot.
I pace the perimeter, running security checks and breaking up the occasional heated argument, but my orbit always brings me back to that stretch of bar. I keep waiting for the intensity of last night to fade. Instead, it sharpens, like every hour apart just ratchets up the tension between us.
When things slow down a little, I decide I can’t take it anymore. I slide into a spot at the bar, directly across from Dee, and fold my arms on the polished wood. She pretends not to see me, busies herself lining up rocks glasses, but there’s a tremor in her hands she can’t hide.
“Whiskey neat,” I say, low enough that she’s the only one who hears.
She turns and mixes some other concoction. “Try this,” she says, setting a small glass mug in front of me. “My new recipe. Hot Buttered Rum. But I did it with bourbon because I knew you’d bitch about rum.”
I take a cautious sip. It’s sweet and spicy and nothing like I expected. Dee watches my face for a reaction, her eyes huge and unblinking. I hold the flavor in my mouth a beat, then swallow.
“It’s the best drink I’ve ever had,” I tell her, and I mean it. She’s a fucking magician when it comes to mixology.
She goes still. Just for a moment, all the bravado drops away. I want to reach across the bar and pull her to me, consequences be damned.
Instead, I lean forward and lower my voice. “I can’t wait to finish what we started earlier.”
She shivers. I see it—shoulders, jaw, even the way her hands flutter to the edge of the counter like she needs grounding. “Me neither,” she whispers, and my chest goes tight.
Before I can say another word, some idiot slides up next to me. Maybe twenty-two, all hair gel and fake tan and the confidence of a frat king who’s spending daddy’s money. He slaps the bar, grinning at Dee in a way that causes my hackles to rise.
“Hey, beautiful, gimme your number and maybe a shot of Fireball to go with it,” he says, real smooth.
Dee doesn’t even blink. “Sure, after you show me your ID.” I have to bite back my laugh when his confidence falters.
“They already ID’d me at the door.” He suddenly looks a little green around the gills.
“Sometimes they miss something.” Dee shrugs, holding firm. “I need to verify your age before I serve you.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles under his breath and pulls out his ID.
Dee takes it and studies it for a little bit before handing it back. Then she pours his drink and slides it across the bar. “Enjoy.”
After the kid walks away with his tail between his legs, I step behind the bar and lean close to Dee. “You know the front door doesn’t let anyone by if their ID is questionable,” I remind her.
“I know, but crushing his confidence was the easiest way to get him to leave me alone.” Her laugh turns to a gasp as I pull her in for my kiss.
She’s shocked for half a heartbeat, then melts into me, hands clutching the front of my shirt as if she’ll fall without the anchor.
The entire club blurs. I’m aware of people staring, whispers spreading like wildfire, but none of it registers.
Dee’s hands stay on me, fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt. “The cat is definitely out of the bag now,” she murmurs, voice gone soft and secretive.
“That it is,” I say, and kiss her again. This time, it’s slower, more careful, but every bit as possessive.
Someone clears their throat behind us. I turn, ready to lay into whoever’s about to kill my mood, but it’s Nathan. He stands with his arms folded, eyebrow arched, smirk just barely contained.
“Stop making out with my new bar manager and let her work,” he says, voice carrying just enough to be heard by every regular in a ten-foot radius.
Dee and I both gasp, the words tumbling out of us in perfect harmony. “What?”
Nathan hardly blinks. His broad shoulders rise and fall like it’s nothing to drop a bombshell across a crowded bar. “The offer was overdue,” he says. “If you want the gig, I’ll match Velvet’s offer.”
A wild stutter of, “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit,” spills from Dee. She grips me for support.
Nathan grins, mischief flickering in his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s a yes.” And before any of us can recover, he’s already moving, crossing the floor to pull his wife tight against his chest.
For the first time in my life, I have nothing to say. Dee tucks her face into my chest, hiding her laugh, and I realize I’ve never seen her this happy. From now on, I’m going to make sure she’s this happy every day for the rest of our lives.