by Khloe Wren
Lifting my eyes to his, I draw in a deep breath as he continues to warm me with his gaze.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” I whisper as he helps me to my feet. Chuckling, he gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it and I watch him walk, appreciating his swagger. Again, I shake the ridiculous thoughts from my head as he drops the glass into the garbage. With a glance in my direction, he pulls a bottle from the shelf and sets it on the bar. Realizing he wants another drink I fight the scowl tugging at my lips.
“Last call was an hour ago,” I remind him, watching as his lips quirk ever so slightly as he ignores my comment and pours two shots. With his index finger, he nudges one towards me.
“Not looking to have you serve me,” he croons, letting his gaze travel the length of me. It’s not the first time I’ve caught him checking me out. However, he wasn’t as conspicuous about it when we were pouring drinks for both clubs and I was smart enough to ignore it. Now, my defenses have somehow been broken down, and it’s just a matter of who is going to make the first move.
“Well?” he questions, inching the glass a fraction closer. “You going to let me take care of you or what?”
Keeping my eyes on him, I lift an eyebrow and take the glass.
You’re not that same woman.
You can live without fear.
It’s just a drink.
He’s not him.
I swirl the whiskey around like the professional I pretend to be before taking a step closer. I might be exhausted but I’m coherent enough to recognize when a man wants me and maybe I deserve to indulge in the attention for just one night. To feel like a woman and not a victim. To remember what it’s like to live in the moment and not in fear.
Swallowing, I lift my gaze to his.
He’ll be gone in the morning.
I’ll never have to see him again.
No risk.
He’s perfect.
“Not sure if a shot will cut it, cowboy. But thanks for the offer,” I say evenly or at least that’s the tone I shoot for. If I’ve learned anything in the last two years, it’s how to fake a bravado.
Lifting the glass to my lips, I down the shot. It slides smoothly down my throat, and I wipe the excess liquor from my mouth with the back of my hand as I set the empty glass on top of the bar. We stand there idly, our eyes wandering and our hands still. When he doesn’t make a move, I wonder if I’ve misread his intentions. It’s a strong possibility seeing how long it’s been since I’ve entertained a man or the idea of sex. As the seconds tick by, I start to feel foolish. Vulnerable. Everything I swore I’d never feel again. The urge to flee engulfs me and I decide to leave the task of cleaning our empty shot glasses for tomorrow. I reach under the bar for my purse and quickly sling the strap over my shoulder. I divert my eyes back to the handsome man just passing through.
It would’ve been nice.
It would’ve been liberating.
“Have a safe flight.”
Without saying a word, he closes the distance between us and my breath hitches at the proximity. He lifts a finger to my shoulder, gently wedging it under the strap of my purse and tugs it down my arm. I watch as he places it next to my empty shot glass and lifts his full one. Knocking the amber liquid back, he turns to me. I wait for him to say something else, but all he does is stare. My insecurities start to get the better of me, and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he notice all my flaws? All my imperfections? Am I just a body and a means to his release?
“The shot was just a warm-up, Lydia.”
With a wink, he rounds the bar and strides for the front door. I watch as he slowly slides the deadbolt into place. I wait for the fear to suffocate me, but it never does. Nervously, I divert my attention away from him and grab a rag. I pretend to wipe down the bar as I try to remember if my bra matches my panties. Not because I’ll be punished if it doesn’t but simply because it exudes femininity. I also try to recall the last time I shaved my legs.
Acting on the nervous energy pulsing through my veins as he slides up behind me, I lift the bottle he used to pour our shots and return it to its rightful place on the shelf. His hand touches my hip and I go completely still. My eyes close as I relish in his gentle touch. Every thought and all my worries drift away from me as his fingers trail over my skin. Soon, the air leaves my lungs as he turns me in his arms, guiding our joined hands to the back of his neck. My heart hammers with anticipation as our eyes lock and the tips of his fingers gently graze the inside of my arm.
“You sure are pretty, darlin.”
He wasn’t kidding about the shot being a warm-up.
For in a single night, a mere couple of hours, Bash lit my whole world on fire.
And the best part?
I let him.
‘Shifting Gears’ by Janine Infante Bosco releases 22 October 2019 and is the first book in the Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy. It is a spin-off from Khloe Wren's Charon MC universe and can be read and enjoyed as a standalone.
