I’m up for some work. Shit, compared to what I just went through in the ring, this should be a piece of cake.
Her gaze flicks downward. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was looking at my dick, but the angle’s wrong. Still, if she wants to look, she’s more than welcome. I know she’ll like what she sees. I’ve got more than enough to please a woman, and right now it’s so hard I could put a hole in the bar if I move the wrong way. Shit, it’s all I can do not to take her right here—bend her over the bar, tear that dress off her—
“I’m fine,” she says suddenly. I have to take a second to remind myself what we were talking about. Right. Social Niceties. That was it. I settle in, one hip against the bar. Jessica gives me another look. “You don’t look so hot though.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“I did see the other guy.” Her grin turns sultry. “Hope he didn’t bust anything important of yours.”
I laugh and deliberately cup my crotch. “Everything’s still there. Lucky for you.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Lucky for me? What exactly do you think’s going to be happening here, sir?”
I like the way she calls me “sir.” I also like that she knows who I am. That she saw the fight. Not so great that she saw me win it when I wasn’t supposed to, but that’s between me and her father, not between me and her. What’s between me and her is going to be hot, sweaty, filthy, and rough.
I scoot a little closer, still holding my dick, feeling blood pulse beneath my fingertips. “’Bout anything you want to happen, hon.”
Her smile turns sultry and she gives me that look again, scraping down my body but not quite going below the waist. Then she reaches up and runs a finger across my lip. Presses into the cut there. It hurts, and I can’t help but wince a little. Not because of the pain but because I didn’t expect that from her.
“You think you’ve got what it takes?”
I catch her hand before she can lower it and push it down against mine where I’m cupping myself. It’s delicate in mine. Long fingers, smoothly manicured. My hand feels rough and awkward around hers. “Check for yourself.”
She just tilts her eyes up toward me, that smile still on her mouth. She doesn’t pull her hand away. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Oh no. She’s not going to pull that shit on me. I move just a little closer. Just enough that her hand and mine are both shoving against the rock-hard length of my dick. “I know who you are, Ms. Spada,” I tell her in a low voice. “I know exactly who you are, and I don’t care what your father thinks. Now—you want to go someplace a little more private?”
She twitches her fingers so her nails scrape the denim next to my fly. I have to fight to not start shaking. “Yeah,” she says. “I think that’s a damn good plan.”
I slide in, let my lips rest right against her ear. “My place is only a few blocks—”
She backs off. Not a lot, but enough to let me know I’ve said the wrong thing. She’s having second thoughts. And I know exactly what she’s thinking. So I move square with her, looking her straight in the eye. My shoulders make her look tiny, sitting there on the barstool, and suddenly her eyes are wary, vulnerable.
“Look,” I say quietly. There’s a small pool of silence around us, just enough so we can hear each other, but no one else around us has a damn clue what we’re saying. It’s perfect. I tip my head toward her, catching her eyes, and lay a hand on her shoulder. Again, my body makes hers look so small. Breakable. “I know what’s going on in that head of yours, and I don’t like it.”
“Oh really?” Her tone is grating. She’s putting on tough airs—except I’m not entirely sure they’re airs. She can’t be any kind of shrinking violet, not with a father like Phil Spada. She’s had to learn to protect herself. From him and, right now, from me.
I move my hand against her shoulder in a soothing motion. I’ll tame her if I have to, although I don’t really want to take the time. I just want inside her where it’s hot and wet and tight. I want to fuck her into oblivion. I want to own her. Because she’s something I want, and she’s something I can take from Phil Fucking Spada.
“You’re afraid your dad’s going to go ape shit if he finds out you went home with me. Because I’m just one of his filthy fighters—I’m not good enough for you. Well, guess what? I agree. I’m definitely not good enough for you.” I lean forward, talking again right into her ear. “But you know what? I can fuck you from here to next Sunday and make you scream like you’ve never screamed before. I can fuck you so hard you’ll taste me in the back of your throat ’til Christmas.”