Normally I sit on the other side of the room, trying my best to ignore the fact that she’s here, but of course Greg and Miles picked a booth close to the damn bar. I sneak a glance at Brooklyn one more time and catch her watching me. Her eyes are filled with a mixture of pain and hunger. Of course, the asshole in me can’t stop thinking about taking advantage of all of that emotion built up inside of her. Because the one thing that keeps me going back for more is the way she’s able to bring me to my fucking knees in the bedroom and make me not just enjoy fucking her, but make me starve to fuck her. I feel like an addict trying to stay clean when I’m around her.
She’s taunting me as she slowly runs her tongue over her full lips, all the while running her finger gingerly around the brim of her glass making my dick jump in my damn slacks. Everything in me is screaming to walk over there, yank her off the goddam stool, and drag her by her hair up to my penthouse. All the while banging on my chest like the fucking barbarian that she’s turned me into. The little voice in the back of my head is whispering to just take one hit off those 'kiss me' lips. Just one more time. Then we can be done for good. The last time we were together in L.A. I didn’t think it’d be the last time. I didn’t take full advantage of having her there willing to let me do to her sweet as sin body as I pleased.
I ignore the voice in my head though, much to my dick’s dismay, and make my way through the room, sliding into the booth beside Miles.
“Glad you showed up.” He says as he waves his hand in the air signaling for a waitress.
Reaching for the menu, I open it up, and look over the vast choices even though I already know what I’m going to order. I’m only trying to distract myself and make my eyes behave instead of wandering towards Brooklyn again.
I spend the next hour eating and drinking. I start out slow with a few beers, then after I cave and allow my eyes to travel back over to Brooklyn, I decide I need the hard stuff. Now I’m officially trashed, horny as shit and pissed the fuck off because 'Mr. Cheap Ass Suit' at the bar can’t keep his hands off Brooklyn. One minute he’s tucking her hair behind her ear and making her laugh, and the next he’s resting his hand on her thigh.
Miles and Greg are chatting it up about football, bitching and moaning because the Texans didn’t make it to the playoffs. I’m usually just as heated in playoff discussions, but right now I’m too busy trying to count to ten, repeatedly, so that I don’t go over there and knock that guy out, causing a scene in my cousin’s hotel. Normally, I couldn’t care less if the local press gets bored writing about their day to day shit and decides to talk about the wild Beaumont boys breaking hearts and noses all around Houston. But with everything going on with Kayden and Savannah, I’m doing my best to lay low and keep a low profile until things simmer down.
I know Knox is a loose cannon right now with the stress of that Zak guy still being out there. The last thing I want is to be on the receiving end of his fury. I know my cousin all too well. Like me, he’s a hothead who hits first and thinks later. If I piss him off, we’ll come to blows because Zak isn’t here for him to take his anger out on, so he’ll pour all of his anger into being pissed off at me for causing a scene and embarrassing Brooklyn.
“Dixon? Hey? Did you hear what I said?” Greg asks banging his hand off of the wooden table forcing me to stop watching Brooklyn and bring my attention back to him.
I clear my throat and anxiously run my fingers through my hair as I blow out a slow breath between my lips. “Sorry. What?”
Shaking his head, he takes a long pull from his beer before answering me. “I asked you what you thought of the upcoming playoff games. Who’s your pick to advance? We’re looking to start a pool with the guys at work. I’m thinking we’ll have a pretty decent pot if we can get everyone in on it.”
Wanting to be done with this whole night I agree to join in, “Sure. Sounds good. I’m too drunk to do my picks and more than likely you douchebags would mix them up. I’ll let y’all know Monday mornin’.”
My eyes linger on Brooklyn once, and I feel my blood turning from a simmer to a rapid boil as things seem to be moving past just being friendly. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I say fuck it and pull up Brooklyn in my contacts. My brain and my dick are in a battle right now. Sadly, for my brain, my dick is winning.
Meet me at the elevators.
It’s not a question, and she knows it. She must sense that I’m not fucking around because I spot Brooklyn slipping off her barstool and make her way towards the exit. She’s lucky she picked the easy choice because I really didn’t want to have to cause a scene and drag her ass out like the thoughts I had earlier in the evening of what I was going to do to her.
I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I guess I’m pleading temporary insanity for what I’m about to do. Sliding out of the booth, I fish out my wallet and throw some bills down on the table for the waitress. “Well, fellas, I’m going to head upstairs. You can just tell the bar to bill my card for y’all’s drinks.”
Picking up another shot, Miles furrows his brows at me as he dangles his shot between his fingers. “You’re bailin’ on us already? Shit, it’s only quarter after nine.” He says with shock in his voice as he glances at his Rolex before tossing back his shot. Licking his lips, he slams the glass down on the table. “This is bullshit, man. I thought we would warm up here then move the party over to Vertigo.”
I keep glancing at the door knowing I need to go if I’m going to catch her before she thinks I’m messing with her and gets in that elevator, leaving me with a raging hard on and no one but rosy palm and her five friends to finish what she started.
Greg is too worried about what’s being said on Sports Center on the jumbo flat screen hanging on the wall to care if I stay or go at the moment.
“Sorry guys. It’s been a long week with everything going on, ya know? How about a rain check. I’ll shoot you a text tomorrow night if I decide to go out.”
Luckily with that, I’m good to go. I waste no time booking it out of the bar. I mentally fist pump when I spot Brooklyn waiting at the wall of elevators for a car to arrive. I know this is stupid, but I’ll just blame it on the whiskey in the morning.
Brooklyn
My body is shaking right now. I feel as if any second I may end up on the damn floor, embarrassing the hell out of myself.
The moment Dixon walked into the bar, I knew I was screwed. I tried as hard as I could to distract myself and pretend he wasn’t there, but it was physically impossible. I could feel his eyes on me. It made every inch of me tingle from my head to my toes. It was as if I could actually feel the caress against my skin where his eyes had slowly roamed over me as he eyed me from across the room. The bar was humming with energy from us. Even across the room, I could feel his want for me deep in my bones.
Still he ignored me and didn’t once try to approach me, which only infuriates me more. It’s been four days...Four. Freaking. Days...since we’ve seen each other. He bailed on me when I needed him most, leaving before the damn sun had even risen. Then he made zero attempts to reach me.
I don’t know how a man can infuriate me to the point where I want to kick him in the balls so damn hard that he’s fishing them out of his stomach for a week. At the same time, he manages to bring me to the point of practically begging for him to please just fuck me already and put me and my vagina out of our misery!
Everything about us screams danger, but reckless Brooklyn sees the red flags and says, “What’s the worst that can happen?”
I can think of quite a few things that could happen. Both good and bad.
Even though the bad outweighs the good, I find myself doing as Dixon asked. I leave the bar and head directly toward the wall of elevators where he told me to wait for him. Not wanting to look like an idiot hanging around the lobby, I pull up my Facebook and scroll through reading the nightly bullshit people post. It’s crazy how much dirty laundry is aired on Facebook. Who needs soap operas when you have As Facebook Turns?
I hear heavy footsteps behind me and my arms tingle with the familiarity of Dixon as he approaches me. I know it’s him without even having to turn around. But I don’t give it away. I ignore him until he’s standing right beside me.
His hand finds the small of my back, causing a sharp intake of breath as I try to calm my racing heart. This man sets my body on fire by just being in the same proximity of me. The electric charge I feel between us every time we’re around each other is completely insane. It only intensifies with each passing moment we spend together.
I feel him lean into me and brush his lips against my ear while gently pushing my hair back, exposing my neck with the bridge of his nose. The cool air mixed with his warm breath causes goosebumps to prickle my skin. He smells like Dixon and Jack Daniels, a lethal concoction.
With his free hand, he hits the call button for the elevator. I try to keep my eyes locked on the digital numbers as they count down. I’m grasping at straws here as I try to stay strong and not instantly melt into him. I want him to work for what he wants, especially after the way he’s treated me the last few days...as if I don’t even exist. Now because he sees me being flirty with a stranger, he suddenly wants me. Go figure.