Cora pushed a full glass of water in front of her. “Drink some of this, sweetie.”
Haven did as she was told, and then she waved her arms to indicate she was done. “Thank you, Jeb,” she said, hooking her finger to invite him closer. When he leaned over the bar, she pushed herself up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for making that fun for me.”
“You got it, beautiful. Any time,” he said, giving her an eager smile full of invitation.
Dare glared at him, and the guy was suddenly really fucking busy cleaning up the bar top.
“Ooh, it’s kinda warm in here,” Haven said, chuckling.
“Why don’t you get some air on the back porch?” Dare suggested, knowing she liked it out there.
She turned to Cora. “Wanna go outside?” she asked.
Cora was in such deep conversation with Phoenix, the two of them arguing about something, that Haven had to tap her shoulder and ask her again.
“Sure, I’ll come if you want,” Cora said, looking back at Phoenix beside her.
Haven glanced between her friend and his Road Captain. “No, you stay. I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Cora asked.
Haven smiled. “Yes, don’t worry.” She turned and walked into Dare. He caught her with an arm around her shoulders, steadying her.
The way she leaned into him about made him insane, especially when she lifted that electric blue gaze to his. “Will you take me?” she asked.
She didn’t mean it the way his body wanted to hear it, Dare knew that much for sure. But that didn’t keep his arousal from ramping up even further, his cock like steel, his need near ravenous.
Fifteen years, Kenyon. She’s fifteen years younger than you. Keep a lid on it.
“I don’t mind,” he managed, keeping her tucked close to him as he guided her across the room. He hadn’t intended this when he suggested she go get some air, he really hadn’t. Which meant he needed to rein himself in. Hard. Right fucking now. “Come on.”
CHAPTER 9
“So much better out here,” Haven said, the night air cool against the tingling warmth of her skin. Although she was pretty sure that not all of the heat burning through her insides was from the alcohol—her unusual flirtatiousness and closeness to Dare over the past half hour had made her desperate with a heat that had nothing to do with her drinking game.
She walked to the railing and leaned against it, chuckling a little at herself for needing the support it offered. She felt so damn free, and it was a heady, exhilarating thing.
“What’s funny?” Dare asked, settling a hip against the railing right beside her. Arms crossed, jaw ticking with tension, dark eyes blazing, he was staring at her like he wanted to reprimand her or devour her. Oddly, neither alarmed her the way she would’ve expected it to.
Haven shook her head, leaning it back and letting her gaze float over the night sky. Blurry points of light swam in the moonlit heavens. It was beautiful and peaceful despite the pounding bass beat of music thumping from inside the clubhouse. “Not funny, just good. Happy, you know? Being able to do something a little . . . scary, but knowing I’d be safe doing it.” When Dare’s gaze narrowed, she shrugged. “I don’t know.”
A long moment passed before Dare finally spoke. “You are safe here, Haven. Never doubt it.”
Peering up at him, she nodded, all kinds of words sitting on the tip of her tongue, challenging her to let them fly. “It’s weird feeling safe—or at least safer—after a lifetime of not. It makes me want to try things I could never let myself try before. It makes me . . .” She shook her head and dipped her chin.
Dare stepped closer, his thighs coming up against her hip. He lifted her chin and made her look at him. The contact combined with the command in the gesture lanced white-hot desire through her veins. “Makes you what?”
“Want to feel alive,” she whispered, her heart suddenly racing in her chest.
Dare’s jaw ticked again as his gaze swept over her face. She didn’t think she was imagining the raw emotion pouring off of him and wrapping around her, but she wasn’t sure if she was reading that emotion right or projecting her own desire onto him.
“Do you feel alive, Dare?” she asked, the alcohol flowing through her and the night spinning around her like she was walking through a dream.
“Jesus Christ,” he bit out.
The rough desperation in his voice made her wet between her legs. “Just once,” she whispered, not sure what she was asking him for.
But he seemed to know. Because his hand was suddenly tangled in her hair and his mouth was suddenly on hers, claiming, probing, tasting. Haven moaned and parted her lips, inviting him deeper.
Dare jerked back from her, his fingers rubbing roughly over his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”