I turn my attention back to Josh and cock my head. This kid seriously has a death wish because my anger is a hard beast to control once it comes out to play. And it wants to play with him. I take a step toward him, close enough for our bodies to touch if either of us breathes too deeply. I feel her small hand wrap itself around my bicep, and his eyes find it.
“Go home, kid,” I tell him, smirking down at him. “We’re closing soon anyway. Leave her alone. I’ll make sure she gets home.” I didn’t think about it before I said it, but it’s true. I will make sure she gets home safely. I may just have some fun with her first.
“I knew you were a fucking mistake,” he spits at her, and I feel her recoil like the words bit her. “Fucking slut,” he murmurs as he walks away.
I crack my neck and shake off her hand.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me,” I say aloud before grabbing his arm, spinning him around, and tossing him over my shoulder.
People around us start laughing as I push past people to the front door. His friends are on their feet when they see us walk past. My bouncer, Seth, opens the door, shaking his head like this isn’t the first time he’s seen me do this. Which, I guess is true. I have a short fuse, and instead of fighting, I’ve learned to just throw them out of their ass. It tends to leave a more lasting impression.
I let him drop to the cold concrete and ignore his insults. His friends can take care of him from here.
“He doesn’t come back in,” I tell Seth. “Ever.” He nods, and I pat him on the back as I walk past him. Holly is still at the bar, staring at me with wide eyes and her mouth opening and closing like a fish. I notice her water is gone.
Good girl, Holly.
“You deserve better,” I tell her as I pass right by her and go back behind the bar. I give her another glass of water. “Drink.” I turn and start viciously cleaning everything in sight. I need to calm down before I throw her over my knee in front of everyone and redden her ass for dating someone so pathetic.
The thought only sends me spiraling again, thinking about her spread open for me as I land smack after smack on her soft skin, my handprints covering her ass. I bet her whimpers would turn into moans as I kneaded her sore flesh and slipped a finger inside of her…
I drop a glass, the shards flying everywhere, and sigh as I hear her laugh behind me.
“Favorite color?” I ask him.
“Blue.”
“Of course it is,” I snort. “Every man’s favorite color is blue.”
“Yours?” he asks me. I can hear the smile in his voice from across the bar. He’s closing everything down. The bar closed about thirty minutes ago, and he sent everyone home. He asked me if I wanted to stay.
I said yes.
“Green. But not the bright lime green. Like a forest green, or a sage green.” I sit up from the booth I’m lying in and watch the way his back moves as he wipes down the shelves behind the bar.
I pull my eyes away, looking around at the decor of the place without people cluttering up the place. It’s bathed in deep reds and warm wood. It has a speakeasy-type feel with glowing Edison bulbs and heavy velvet curtains blocking the view to the street outside.
“How old are you?”
He turns around and looks at me, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the counter.
“I just turned fifty,” he says, narrowing his eyes on me and smirking, waiting for my reaction.
I shrug and stand up, walking over toward him.
“Wizened,” I say with a smile, teasing him.
“Hah!” he barks out, throwing the rag into a bin. “Old,” he says, watching me slowly walk the length of the bar, running my fingertips on the glossy wood.
“Vintage.” My smile grows as I look at him. Whatever dance we’re doing, I like it. I like the way my heart beats faster under his gaze and my skin heats with a delicious warmth that spreads into other places, places I would most definitely like to feel the soft scratch of his beard.
“Ancient,” he counters as I round the corner and enter into his space. He’s gone still, watching me with his eyes but keeping his arms over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles.
“Established,” I murmur as I get within touching distance of him. His eyes lick up and down my body, and I swear I can feel them as if his hands were on me. I want them on me. We’ve been playing this game of tug-of-war for the past half hour, and I’m ready to let go and have him pull me in.
“Experienced.” His voice has taken on a whole new tone, and it causes the butterflies in my stomach to go crazy. He moves slowly as I approach him, turning so that my back is against the counter and his arms are caging me in. The clean scent of his aftershave invades my senses and makes my head dizzy.