As I clean the grate under the beer tap, my eyes wander the thinning crowd and dark interior of the club, looking for Cash. Wouldn’t you know that, when I find him, a busty blond bombshell is throwing her arms around his neck and rubbing her skanky little body all over him. I grit my teeth against the urge to jump over the bar, march right over there and snatch her bald-headed.
But my anger fades into acute distress when I see Cash smile down into her face. I see his lips move as he speaks to her and my heart springs a leak. It makes me feel somewhat better when he reaches up to unwind her arms from around his neck then take a step back from her, but it’ll take more than that to get Taryn’s unwelcome words out of my head.
Dammit.
My mood circles the drain for the next hour and a half. Even the fairly likeable personality Taryn has adopted when she’s not being an utter bitch doesn’t help. I even start thinking to myself that maybe it would be a good idea to go back to the apartment for the night.
An hour later, as I wash the sliced lemons container on my end of the bar, I’m still pondering my options while debating the likelihood that I have undiagnosed bipolar disorder. A shot glass slides across the bar in front of me. I look up to see Taryn at my right, grinning, holding a glass of her own.
“Shhh,” she says with a wink. “I won’t tell if you won’t. It’s closing time anyway.” She pulls a ten dollar bill out of her pocket and throws it down.
At least she’s paying.
Normally, I would politely decline, but a shot to calm my nerves and ease my troubled thoughts sounds like a good idea. I wipe my hands on a towel and grab the tiny glass.
Taryn raises hers and smiles at me. “Salut!” she exclaims with a nod.
I nod and raise mine as well, and we both toss back our shot. I don’t need to ask what she poured. The vodka burns all the way down.
Making a deep, growly “ah” sound, Taryn grins at me. “Come out with me. You look like you need a night of frivolous fun.”
Before I can answer her, Cash’s voice interrupts us. “Olivia,” he calls from the doorway of his office. “Come see me before you go. There are a few things I need to discuss with you.”
“Okay,” I reply, my stomach tightening with a mixture of excitement, desire and dread. He ducks back into his office and closes the door. I turn to Taryn. “Next time?”
“Sure,” she responds pleasantly. “I’ll just finish up and head out.”
She wanders back down to her end of the bar and it occurs to me that we might actually make it to being friends one day.
Go figure.
I piddle a little, slowing down enough that Taryn can finish before I go back to “meet” with Cash.
“Tada!” she exclaims, throwing her towel in the sanitizer to soak. “All right, Livvi, I’m outta here. Wish you could come, but duty calls.” She tips her head toward Cash’s office and rolls her eyes. Grabbing her purse from the shelf under the counter, Taryn circles around to approach me from the other side of the long, black bar. Planting her hands on the shiny surface, she leans forward and gives me an air peck like she’s kissing each cheek. “’Night, doll.”
I’m still struggling with disbelief as I watch her walk through the door and out into the night, dread locks swinging. I decide that dramatic personality shifts like that can’t be healthy.
The instant the front door thumps shut, Cash’s office door opens. He emerges, his expression hard and determined. With purpose, he crosses the empty room and locks the double-doors behind Taryn.
For a few seconds, all that I’ve been worrying about for the last couple of hours fades away like the space his long stride eats up so effortlessly. I’m mesmerized just watching him, the way he moves. His long, muscular legs flex with each step. His perfect butt shifts behind the pockets of his jeans. His wide shoulders are square and straight above his trim waist.
And then he turns toward me.
I might never get used to how handsome he is. It might never fail to leave me breathless. His nearly-black eyes bore hot holes into mine. They don’t break contact as he crosses the room again, this time toward me.
He hops over the bar and lands beside me. Without a word, he bends, throws me over his shoulder and carries me down the length of the bar and through the cut-out on the other end.
My heart is pounding as he takes me through the office and into his apartment on the other side. My body is on fire with desire and anticipation for what’s to come, but my mind is still harboring some doubt and insecurity from earlier. I’m debating whether to say something to him and go back home for the night or just ignore every shred of rational thought and stay, when he sets me on my feet.
Immediately, his lips cover mine and all other considerations are gone. He pushes me back against the apartment door. I feel it click shut behind me.
He takes my hands and brings my arms above my head, pinning my wrists together in the long fingers of one hand. His free hand blazes a fiery trail down my side, his thumb grazing my already-aching nipple, then on to my stomach where it slips beneath the hem of my tank top.
He flattens his palm over my ribs and moves it around to my back and down into the waistband of my pants. The fit is loose there, so it’s easy for him to slide into them then down into my panties to cup my bare butt.
He pulls me against him, grinding his hips into mine as he sucks on my lower lip. “Do you know how hard it was to let you work tonight? To know that I can’t touch you or kiss you or even watch you?” he pants against my open mouth. “All I could think about was what you look like naked and the little noises you make when I stick my tongue inside you.”
His words make the lowest part of my belly fill with heat and tighten. He releases my wrists, but rather than push him away, I thread my fingers into his hair and crush my lips to his. I feel him working at the button and zipper of my jeans and excitement floods me.
“It’s only been a few hours and all I can think about is the way you taste, the way you feel wrapped around me. When you’re so hot and so ready. So wet,” he murmurs against my mouth.
Just as my need rises to fever pitch, a voice interrupts us.
“Nash?” It’s Marissa and she’s pounding on the interior garage door. Cash drags his lips away from mine and places his finger over my mouth to hush me. “Nash?” She bangs again. “I know you’re in there. The garage is open and your car is here.”
I hear Cash growl. “Shit! What the hell is she doing back?” he whispers.
My mind races. Although I know Cash and Nash are the same person, the fact that Marissa doesn’t could pose a problem in instances like this, especially when she doesn’t know about Cash and me.
“What should we do? We can’t let her find out like this!”
Cash sighs and leans back to run his fingers through his mussed hair. Luckily, his preferred style is kind of spiky and disheveled, so it’s not noticeable that my fingers have been in it.
My body aches with want, but my mind is already in gear for reality.