She eyed me. “Military?”
I nodded. “Navy SEAL. Well…ex, now, I guess.” I returned her gaze, found myself lost in that green. “Combat medic?”
“Army. Three tours, one in Iraq and two in Afghanistan.”
“Thanks.” I held out my hand, the one not pressed to my ribs. “Zane Badd.”
She held out her hand to take mine, but then hesitated. “I’d shake, but my hands are messy.”
“Not the first time either of us has had blood on our hands.” I closed the space, took her hand in mine. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
She shook my hand with a firm, strong grip. “Mara Quinn.” Both of our hands were slick and sticky with blood, hers with Bax’s, and mine with his and mine both.
I’m not a talker, like some of my brothers, and I’m also not quite as taciturn or grunty as Lucian or Sebastian, but I’ve never had any problems talking to women. Mainly, I’d guess, because my looks typically speak for themselves, and the fact that there’s not usually much talking necessary after I say, “I’m a Navy SEAL.” But, for some reason, Mara Quinn left me tongue-tied.
“So.” I felt like my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, words lodged in my throat.
“Small talk sucks, and I need a drink.” She gave me that lopsided grin again, and something fluttered inside me, as if there were a colony of bats inside my chest. “Happen to know somewhere…quiet…where we could get one?”
I grinned back at her. “I might. There happens to be this bar named after me…”
“The bar’s named after you, or you after the bar?”
“Same difference. It was our dad’s, and now it’s ours,” I said, gesturing ahead of me for her to go into Badd’s.
“When you say ‘ours,’ who is that, exactly?” Mara asked.
“Me and my seven brothers,” I said. “Sebastian, the one getting married, is the oldest. Then me, then Brock, whose shirt you put around Bax’s leg. Bax is next, then Canaan and Corin, then Lucian, then Xavier.”
Mara’s eyebrows lifted. “Damn, that’s a lot of brothers.”
I nodded. “Sure is. But that just means it’s never boring around here.”
We took two stools at the bar, and the temp bartender came over immediately. “What can I get you, Mr. Badd?”
I frowned at him. “Name’s Zane. Mr. Badd was my dad and he’s gone. Bourbon on the rocks for me.” I glanced at Mara. “For you?”
“Same as him.”
“Any particular bourbon you’d like, sir?”
“Maker’s Mark is fine,” I said.
“Good choice,” Mara said, smiling. “Although I’m usually more of a Blanton’s neat sort of girl, but not everyone has Blanton’s.”
When we had our Maker’s, we sipped in an oddly companionable silence for a couple of minutes, and then Mara swiveled on her chair to face me.
“So, um…” she looked at me over the top of her rocks glass, a small, sly grin on her lips, “when I said somewhere quieter, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”
The way she was inching closer to me, letting her knees brush mine, told me what she likely meant, but I’m not one to play games or mince words. I like to know exactly what I’m getting into, and I like the girl to be clear about what she wants from me. I’ve brushed too close to Death too many times, seen too many buddies’ lives cut short to bother fucking around playing mind games.
“Oh. Well…what did you mean, then, Mara?” I slid closer to her, half standing now, framing her knees with mine, and I slid a palm up her thigh. She slugged the last of her drink in one go and then stood up, pushing closer to me. No hesitation, no games.
“You, me, and somewhere private with a bed,” she said. “Or a couch. Or a counter.”
“I have all three of those at my disposal, and everyone else will be down here for the foreseeable future.”
“Lead the way, then,” Mara said, slipping her hand into mine. I led her upstairs to the apartment and showed her into my room. As soon as I had the door closed behind her, Mara jumped at me. Literally, she leapt into the air and crashed against my chest, letting me take all of her weight, her mouth slamming against mine, her tongue seeking mine.
For a long, breathless moment, then, we kissed. I had both hands on the plump, juicy peach of her denim-clad ass, squeezing it, holding her aloft with that grip. I shifted her higher, and she wrapped her short, powerful legs around mine.
I held her there, backed away from the kiss enough to whisper against her lips. “Damn, girl. You don’t waste time, do you?”