“Is that what you’re looking for? Some excitement?” I asked quietly.
He laughed. “No, not at all. I’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime.”
I looked him up and down. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised.”
He grinned wickedly again. “I’m full of surprises, Darcy.” He slammed back the last of his drink and looked at me expectantly. I wanted to argue, but there was a devilish look in his eye, like a mischievous child. I picked up my drink and drank it as fast as I could. The cold soda and whiskey mixed into my stomach, warming me up and freezing my head. I felt a little fuzzy and happy.
“See, that’s what I thought,” he said.
He ordered us two more drinks, and I had a feeling I already knew where the night was headed.
Chapter Four
We spent the next two hours slowly getting drunk together. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, but he wasn’t exactly taking it easy on the drinks. I asked him questions, and sometimes he answered them. Mostly, he talked about the people in the bar. He told me about Jimmy Jay, how he lost his eye in the Vietnam War, and about Tadd. He never went into specifics, but he talked a lot about ‘jobs’ and ‘tasks.’ He kept it all vague and mysterious, and whenever I tried to press for more information about him, he either ignored me, or changed the subject. I was getting frustrated, and I was getting drunk.
We ordered more drinks, and after the bartender put them in front of us and walked away, I dropped my hand onto his thigh. I could feel the thick denim of his jean shorts and the powerful, solid muscles of his leg. He let out a small growl and looked at me, his eyes suddenly full of a passion I hadn’t seen out of him yet.
“You’re a fucking sexy girl, Darcy,” he said quietly, his voice full of gravel and bass. I had to lean in to hear him.
“You think so?” I asked, trying to play it cool. Inwardly, I felt my excitement grow.
“And I think you know it, too,” he answered, his grin coming back.
I went to pull my hand away, but he covered it with his before I could move. He was fast, and his large hand engulfed mine. His skin was calloused and hard, like he was used to manual labor, and his knuckles looked red and bruised. My eyes widened a bit as I looked at his injuries. His grin turned into a sly smile.
“I didn’t say you should stop,” he whispered.
“What happened to your knuckles?” I asked, not sure what else to say.
His smiled widened. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
He stood, still holding my hand. He nodded to the bartender, who nodded back. He started to lead me by the hand toward the back of the bar, passed the pool tables, and headed toward the bathrooms.
“Where are we going?” I asked again. He looked back and grunted, his face serious, and his eyes filled with passion. I knew I should probably stop him, but there wasn’t a single part of me that really wanted to turn back.
He pulled me around a corner, and pushed the door to the men’s room open. There was a guy washing his hands at the sink as Rex pulled me into the room.
“Out,” Rex said to the guy. There was a beat, and then the guy nodded, and left. I was shocked at his audacity, but also at the guy’s willingness to obey. There was something magnetic about Rex that demanded you listen to what he had to say. If he decided to say anything, at least.
Rex grinned at me. I could feel his heat and closeness in the small space. He pressed his body against mine, his hands on my hips. I could feel his muscles through his shirt, and smell the sweat on his skin. It was sweet and musky, and I felt myself growing hot and excited at his touch. He leaned forward, and before I could speak, he kissed me. His lips moved softly at first, and after a moment his kiss turned hard and hungry, as his mouth opened and his tongue ran rough against mine. I felt myself open up to him, his strong body hard and huge against mine.
He kissed me against the sink for half a minute, his hands wrapped firmly on my hips, and I ran my fingers through his thick hair. He pulled away, and then pushed me toward a stall. I opened the door, overwhelmed with excitement, as he followed me in, locking the door behind us. We pressed into the stall together, the tiny space forcing our bodies into contact, and he put his hands against the wall just above my shoulders. Boxed in, he grinned at me.
“Do this with all the girls?” I asked breathless.
“Only the spoiled ones,” he replied.
I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard as punishment, our lips crushed together, and I heard him grunt his approval. I felt like I was starving for him, and my mouth worked against his as my hands roamed down his muscled chest and abs. I found the button on his fly and pulled it open, ripping the zipper down behind it.