The thick tension in Aslin’s groin throbbed. Hard. Urgent. Demanding attention. He swallowed, every muscle in his body coiled. “And?”
“And I think the best course of action is to find out. As soon as possible.” She paused. For a heartbeat. “If you’re interested.”
If you’re interested.
The question hung on the air. Aslin stared at her. Was she kidding? It was all he could do not to shove the table between them away, snare her ponytail in his fist and crush her mouth with his. His cock was a pole of rigid agony. His blood roared in his ears.
If you’re interested.
“Well? Are you?” Her soft voice played over his scorched nerve-endings. Her American accent sent fresh lust into his balls.
Without a word, he rose to his feet and rounded the table to stand before her. Curling his fingers around her firmly toned upper arm, he hauled her off her feet with a single tug and captured her lips in a searing kiss.
He plundered her mouth straight away. He didn’t care they were in a public bar. He didn’t give a sodding rat’s arse. He wanted her. She wanted him. It was simple.
Her tongue lashed over his, hungry and aggressive. He groaned, the sound a testament to his desire. Rowan raked her nails down his chest, her hands exploring his torso before returning to his pecs. She brushed her fingers over his nipples, sending shards of wet electricity into his groin. His cock pulsed in his jeans, and Rowan moaned into his mouth, pushing her hips harder to his.
Aslin’s head swam. He tore his lips from hers, holding her arms with a firm grip as he stared down into her eyes. “My hotel is—”
“I can’t wait that long,” she cut him off, her voice a rasping breath. “I need…”
He didn’t let her finish. He spun on his heel and strode through the club, heading for the back door. He’d spent enough time escorting Nick from frenzied venues to know every club and bar had one. He also knew this area of Sydney well enough to know the back door of the Buckshot Saloon would lead directly to a narrow alley.
An alley was perfect for filthy, carnal fucking.
Raw, primitive sex.
Warm, slender fingers threaded through his as he pushed open the door to the staff area. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Rowan. He’d felt those fingers on his body once already today and he recognised their fierce strength. Five steps later, he shoved open the kitchen door. No one stopped him. No one ever did. His height, his build, his expression…all of it spoke of certain pain if anyone tried. It was one of the reasons he’d been such an effective bodyguard. He radiated deadly promise.
Behind him, Rowan followed, her hand holding his, her strides long and purposeful. He could feel it in the way she kept pace with him.
It was a powerful aphrodisiac. Knowing she was as capable as he. His cock throbbed and jerked in his jeans, straining for release.
Five more steps later, without a word or even a glance at any of the surprised nightclub staff, Aslin flattened his hand on the Buckshot’s kitchen door, pushed it open and stepped through it into the alley beyond.
Two steps after that, he heard it slam shut, plunging the alley back into shadowy darkness again. Just as he turned and snared Rowan’s waist with one hooked arm.
Their lips came together, hard and savage and brutal. The kiss was wild. He crushed her to his body and fucked her mouth with his tongue, her moans of rapture heating his lust. She clung to him, her fingernails scraping at the back of his neck as he drove her backward to the brick wall behind her.
She cried out, throwing her head back, wrapping her right leg around his thigh. He dragged his lips down the column of her throat, biting, sucking as he went. Her flesh was soft and smooth, velvet beneath his tongue, lips and teeth. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to feel more of her. All of her.
Driving his hand under the hemline of her shirt, he captured her breast, cupping it with punishing force. She whimpered, grinding her sex to the bulge in his jeans. The pressure almost undid him. He pinched her erect nipple through the satin of her bra, reveling in the raw moan falling from her at the course touch.
“Fuck, yes,” Rowan panted, wrapping her leg tighter around the backs of his thighs. “That feels good.”
He pumped up against her spread pussy, his mind telling him they were still fully clothed, his lust telling him he was sinking into her heat. His cock ached. His balls were rock hard and swollen. Every thrust he made drove him closer to the edge. Every scoring rake of Rowan’s nails on his shoulders, his neck, pushed him closer.
He crushed her lips with his again, plundering her mouth with his tongue before capturing her bottom lip with his teeth. She groaned, ramming her sex to his constrained erection, raking her hands down his chest.