Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(12)
“I agree Gwen probably shouldn’t know I pashed her best friend within hours of arriving,” he grinned.
“What does pashed mean?” I asked, wondering if it was New Zealand slang for some sort of sexual wizardry.
“It means I’ve tasted how sweet your mouth is, felt how amazing your body feels and it means I want to taste all of you. Feel what it’s like to slide inside you.”
Holy f*ck. What does one say to that? Especially when one is feeling the impressive length of what could mean multiple orgasms if this guy’s kiss was anything to go by.
“I’m going to be straight up here. This is complicated. You aren’t just a f*ck for me, I can tell you that already. You’re more. But I can’t give you more. I’m here for two weeks and then I’m gone. I won’t be back for another year. My job is dangerous. Who knows if I will come back?” I tensed at the thought of Ian getting hurt. I tensed even more when I realized how deeply this thought affected me. He brushed my cheek. “All of that means I should be keeping my distance, not complicating things, not putting you through this. That’s what I should be doing. But if my job’s taught me anything it’s to make the most of every day, every second. Even if it’s for one night I want the memory of your face, your body to think of when I’m in the next hellhole.” His fingertips grazed the edge of my panties. “It may be selfish as f*ck but I want to remember how tight your * is whenever I look at you, know what it feels to have you pulse around my finger. I want you, all of you,” he murmured.
I exhaled. Wow. I wanted all of that. Hell, after that speech I’d offer to carry his firstborn child and to sell my entire Loubie collection if that’s what he wanted.
So after that night that’s what we did. We made the most of every moment, and against my wishes I fell head over red-soled heels in love with him.
We attempted the long distance thing. We tried to keep it casual, to keep it a secret from Gwen, with stolen moments and late night rendezvous. But it wasn’t casual. It couldn’t be. Not with us. I was prepared to wait. To try. But Ian had something else in mind. Namely yanking my heart out of my chest and stomping on it.
CHAPTER TWO
A presence violating my personal bubble shook me out of my trip down memory lane. It was probably a good thing too; that was a dangerous place for me to venture. I was tempted to thank the space invader but stopped short as my eyes met his. His blue eyes were full of menace and danger, not the good kind.
“Pretty lady like you shouldn’t be drinking alone. Next one’s one me,” he drawled.
I waved my tequila bottle at him unsteadily, “No thanks, I’m set.”
I turned my back to him, hoping that sent the message, but at my other side was an equally sinister looking man, eyeing me with that same stare. I was used to attention from men, but this stare was not sexual in any way. It was predatory and cold.
I regarded them both as well as I could after half a bottle of tequila. It was safe to say they were blurry. Both were wearing seriously expensive suits, the kind that cost as much as a second-hand car. Ditto for the gold jewelry.
I may have been halfway to blotto, but I’d have to be unconscious not to register fashion and accessories. One was young and not unattractive, with dark hair and dark features, slim and about my age. The other was older and balding; no matter how good the tailoring was you couldn’t hide the paunch hanging over his belt. They had money. They were not at home in a place like this. I didn’t get good vibes as to why they were here talking to me.
“How about we take you somewhere a little more respectable, somewhere a woman like you belongs,” the older one addressed me.
Warning bells sounded in my inebriated brain. This didn’t seem like it was going any place good. I searched for my friend the bartender, hoping he would be my knight in dirty plaid, but he was down the other end of the bar unpacking boxes. Guess I had to take care of myself.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of sick father son fantasy you two have going on, but I don’t want to be any part of it. Go and check the yellow pages for hookers who specialize in ménage a troi.” They continued to stare at me. “In other words, f*ck off.” I attempted to sound strong and unruffled at the proximity of the men and their not so subtle intentions. The slurring of my words might have screwed with that attempt.
“Well, this one’s got spice.” The younger one raised his eyebrow almost amused at me. The way a cat was amused with a mouse before it gobbled it up.
“’Fraid we’re gonna have to insist you come with us, sweetheart,” he continued conversationally.
“’Fraid you’re gonna have to go screw yourself. I am not going anywhere with you two weirdos. Leave me alone before I scream at the top of my lungs.” I hoped the patrons of this bar were more chivalrous than they looked.
Paunch Man stepped closer and I felt something hard press into my back. I didn’t think it was on account of him being happy to see me.
“You better rethink that, Red. I’d hate to blow a hole in such a perfect little body, or splatter the brains of that nice bartender all over the walls.” He nodded his head at my tequila-giving friend who was heading our way with a frown.
I gulped. This was a serious situation, one that required some serious brainpower if I was to get out of it. Unfortunately my brainpower had left the building three shots ago.