2. Duke
DUKE
Dallas flips a lock of curly blond hair over her shoulder, and I try not to moan when I catch a whiff of her shampoo.
She smells like jasmine and vanilla and filthy decisions I could never regret.
The band starts playing a slower song, a Chris Stapleton cover. She turns to face me, and my eyes dip to her pouty pink lips.
Fuck, I have to get myself under control. She’s married, last I heard.
But I don’t see a ring tonight.
I reach out to wrap my hand around her waist. When my other one interlaces with her fingers, flames flicker over the back of my neck.
I’ve wanted Dallas Hayes since the day I met her over two years ago.
I vividly remember seeing her for the first time when she walked into my older brother Holden’s house.
Time seemed to stop when her bright eyes met mine, and I wanted her instantly.
When I found out she was married, I backed off.
But I’ve heard her husband treats her like shit. My sister-in-law Rosie has suspected him of abusing her and confided in Holden about it.
My brothers and I don’t tolerate men who abuse women. They’re lower than dog shit in my book. Therefore, I don’t feel a shred of remorse when I pull Dallas closer and inhale her addictive scent.
Her husband isn’t here tonight. I am.
And I’m starting to forget that I’m a Southern gentleman with every sway of her body.
My hand slides lower, over the side of her hip. She stiffens, putting a few more inches between our bodies. I start moving back and forth, gently guiding her with my hands and hips.
“It’s two steps to the right, one step back.” I lean down and brush my lips against her hair near her ear.
I’m significantly taller than her at six foot three. She can’t be more than five foot five. She keeps up with me just fine, even when I pick up the pace as we move across the wood floor.
“You’re doing great, darlin’.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? Do you like it too much?”
She sighs, but doesn’t respond.
I don’t know what it is about Dallas that gets to me. She’s gorgeous, of course, but it’s so much more than that.
I do know it’s partly because there’s a sadness behind her green eyes that I feel compelled to eliminate.
“Where are your boys tonight?”
“With Matt,” she says. “Where’re all your girlfriends tonight?”
I chuckle, pulling her an inch closer. Miraculously, she doesn’t resist, and I can finally feel her body heat. She’s still too far away.
“I haven’t been with anyone in quite some time actually. I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what? Flexing shirtless in the mirror?”
I bark out a laugh. “Something like that.”
In truth, this is the first time I’ve been out at the bar in months.
I was surprised when I walked in and saw her here.
I’ve been busy taking care of my father, who has suffered at the hands of severe alcoholism and early-onset dementia for years now.
I’m the last of my four siblings to live at home.
But I don’t mind it. Pops needs me, and I’m glad I have the freedom to be there for him.
When I do get a chance to get away, like tonight, he goes over to Holden and Rosie’s house or my best friend, Sam’s, where my sister, Dolly, lives.
“All right, now I’m going to spin you. Just follow my lead.”
My left hand pulls hers out while my right hand gently pushes on her hip.
She turns away from me. I guide her into a counter spin, watching her face as she comes back to me.
I catch a glimpse of a tiny lift at the corner of her lips.
She effortlessly resumes the two-stepping movements with me, a slightly smaller gap between our bodies.
Every point of contact feels like a live wire.
“Beautiful. You’re a natural.”
She finally dips her head back and peers up at me. “I told you, I already know how to dance.”
“Who taught you?”
I wouldn’t beat a man’s ass just for dancing with her. That would be irrational. She’s not mine.
But I still wanna know, just in case an opportunity arises later.
“I’ve always loved to dance, but some guy at work has been teaching me more lately.”
“At work? Where do you work?” I thought she was a stay-at-home mom.
“Lucky’s Pub.”
“In Elmott?”
She nods, turning away again.
When did Dallas Hayes start working at a shitty pub in Elmott of all places?
Sam and I go to Elmott to fight in an underground fight club for fun and to earn quick cash. The demographic in that town is shady, to say the least. It’s a lot of single men, and the crime rate is unusually high.
“When did you start that job?” I press my fingers into her side.
“About a month ago.”
“When do you work?”
She dips her head back to look up at me again, her emerald eyes guarded. “Why?”
“Just curious, darlin’.”
I spin her away from me before pulling her back and immediately dipping her down to the floor. She gasps, but follows my lead perfectly. When I lift her back up, she licks her parted lips.
“I work Wednesdays through Saturdays, six p.m. to two a.m.”
My gaze narrows. “You what?”
The weekend closing shift is no place for a woman like Dallas Hayes in a town like Elmott.
“The tips are good.”
“I bet they are,” I bite out.
She raises a brow. I haven’t been to Lucky’s Pub, but it sounds like I need to plan a trip.
“Is that why you’re out at Old Harry’s on a Tuesday?”
She nods. I want to ask why her worthless husband can’t make enough money so she can stay home with the kids, but the song ends, and she lets go of my hand, turning back to our table.
I follow her back and pull her chair out for her. Jo has disappeared somewhere. Dallas takes a sip of water.
“You want another drink?” I ask.
She stares into the glass of water, studying the ice cubes before finally nodding.
“Any preference?”
“Surprise me.”
I walk over to the nearly empty bar, leaning across the counter. I spot Jo on the other side of the room, talking to one of the band members on his break. The place is nearly empty, considering it’s a weekday. The bartender notices me and smiles. She has a septum piercing and blond pigtails.
“What can I get you, handsome?”
“Give me a glass of sauvignon blanc and a Dr. Pepper.”
She raises a brow but fulfills the order. I pay and tip her before turning back to the table.
Dallas is no longer alone. Standing next to her on either side are two big, brawny-looking cowboys I don’t know.
One of them is leaning into her. My skin tightens when he reaches out to push a blond curl away from her face.
Dallas shrinks away from him, but keeps a practiced smile on her lips. It’s not her real smile.
“You looked good out there dancing. I could use a few pointers,” the one in a black cowboy hat, who touched her hair, says. He steps closer, eyeing her chest in a way that makes my blood boil.
I roughly shove myself between the men, positioning myself right beside Dallas. “I could give you a lesson. Why don’t you and your buddy go out there and I’ll direct you from here?”
I set her wine in front of her. The guy wearing the black hat is behind me now, and his bald friend in a red button-down is glaring at me on the other side of Dallas.
Red Shirt’s nostrils flare as he glances from me to Black Hat.
“We were in the middle of a conversation,” Red Shirt grits out, clenching his fist.
I ignore him, taking a slow sip of my Dr. Pepper. I feel a hand on my shoulder, jerking me back.
“Hey, you can’t just—”
I don’t let Black Hat finish before I set my drink down and throw my elbow back into his face.
With the cage-fighting experience I have, I know exactly where to aim to hit my mark.
The satisfying crunch of his nasal bone underneath my elbow makes me grin.
I was expecting Red Shirt to react, so as soon as I hit the guy behind me, I pull Dallas toward me and slide her out of the way before throwing my right hook into his eye.
He barely has time to register what’s happening before his body is thrown back into the table behind us with a crash.
I flip around, preparing for the counterblow from Black Hat, but he’s backed away, holding his hand to cover his nose as blood gushes all over his gray shirt.
“What the fuck is your problem, man?!”
Red Shirt jumps back up after knocking out three chairs and a full pitcher of beer, which is now soaking his shirt. His face matches his clothes, crimson tinting his cheeks.
“You got some nerve, pretty boy. If you wanna fight, get your ass over here and fight like a real man.”
I step up to him, even though he’s bigger than me and looks like he can throw a solid punch.
“If you want more, I’m game.” I grin at him, popping my knuckles. “Playtime just started.”
He steps up, swinging so slow that I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do to him. I easily dodge him before throwing a counterpunch with my left fist to give him matching black eyes. He stumbles back, groaning in pain.
“You fucking—”
“Hey!” Old Harry saunters between us, holding up a hand to each of us. He turns to me, tilting his head in frustration. “Duke, why do you gotta start fights inside? Go out to the back alley. Now I got a mess to clean up.”
“Sorry, Harry. They started it.”
The men both protest loudly, but Harry isn’t having it.
“Get out! All of you.”
I turn to Dallas, who I expect to be fuming at me and pissed off. Instead, her mouth is agape, and she looks … fascinated.
I reach a hand out to her, and to my surprise, she takes it. I lead her toward the exit and out of the bar, watching Black Hat and Red Shirt as they turn the opposite way in the parking lot as Harry scowls at our backs.
Dallas doesn’t say a word when we get to my new truck—a black King Ranch Ford. I go around to the passenger door to open it for her. She climbs up and settles in the seat without looking at me.
I walk around to the driver’s side, wondering if she wants me to drop her off at home with her husband. When I climb inside, she doesn’t give me any time to even ask her if she’s okay because she practically vaults into my lap and presses her lips to mine.
My instinct is to pull her closer, to wrap my hand around her hip and squeeze. My instincts are never wrong, so I do it.
She tastes like wine and cherry ChapStick. I pull her all the way onto my lap and slip my fingers through her hair at her nape. She whimpers into me and brushes her tongue over the seam of my lips. My tongue eases through the opening, tasting more of her. Blood surges to my groin.
“God, you taste good, darlin’.” I scrape my fingers against her scalp, eliciting a moan from her.
When I move my other hand up to wrap it around her neck, she wiggles closer to me.
The friction of her body rubbing over my fully hard dick sends bolts of pleasure through me.
She wraps her hands around my neck, her kiss growing needier.
I release her hair and reach down to knead her ass, squeezing it roughly.
She bites my lower lip, her movements frantic.
I love the feel of her womanly figure and her sweet jasmine-and-vanilla scent. I could get lost in her. I’d fuck this woman right here in this parking lot if she let me, onlookers be damned.
The fact that she’s a married woman isn’t a thought in my brain right now. Her husband doesn’t count in my mind, because real men don’t abuse and hurt their wives.
All I can focus on is her and the way she’s turning me on with every little whimper that falls from her lips.
I grip her hair at the roots, pulling her back slightly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”
She stares at me with piercing emerald eyes before dipping back down to kiss me again with her sensual pink lips.
She moves her body so that she’s straddling me now, grinding against my rock-hard cock.
I could come like this, just from this movement and the fact that I’ve fantasized about her for as long as I’ve known her.
She suddenly jerks back, hands scrabbling to undo my belt.
Fuck, she wants to do it right now.
After years of rejecting me, she can’t even wait until we get to a bed, and it’s hot as fuck.
While she works on getting my pants undone, I reach for the button of her jeans. I slide the zipper down before dipping my hand into her underwear to feel how wet she is.
“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.”
I rub my finger over her, exploring her entrance. I dip the tip of my index finger into her, watching her mouth form an O as I do it. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she moans.
“Duke …”
I pull my hand out, bringing my finger to my mouth before I suck it between my lips. She blinks at me, like she’s in a daze.
She tastes sweet with a little tanginess that’s so perfect, and like Dallas, I want more. I slide my hand back into her jeans, but she grabs my wrist, stopping me right before my knuckle grazes her clit.
I freeze, waiting. She squeezes my wrist until I slowly remove it from her jeans. She climbs off of me, chest rising and falling with each heavy inhale.
Her gaze flutters over to me again. I can’t make out her full expression in the dimly lit vehicle.
“This was a mistake,” she says.
She wets her lips, swallowing. Then she opens the door to my truck, gets out, and slams it shut.