More Than Lies (More Than #1)(36)

“I’m sorry,” he says again, but it’s directed to Tara. She stands there not knowing what to do.

“Get out of my bar.” Mac’s voice comes out loud and fierce from somewhere behind the bar. “I don’t want to see either one of you back in here again.” Both men leave without another word. The guy that swung the bottle has his head lowered as he walks out. He may regret what he did, but that doesn’t change what almost happened.

I take a deep breath. The pain in my back is starting to make its presence known. I turn around, and when I do, I see Holly’s mouth is agape. That little scene didn’t play out like she wanted. I know she doesn’t like Tara. I even know why she doesn’t like Tara. Me. But I never thought she would outright try to cause Tara harm. That pisses me off further. “Get out of my sight.” She knows it’s directed at her. She huffs, but does as I say, stomping off.

“Your back, Shawn.” Tara’s voice is a whisper. She looks more distraught than I do, and I’m the one with blood running down my body. “Come on, I’ll fix it.” Tara grabs my hand and tugs me along. When we reach the back of the bar, she pushes through into Mac’s office and I pull the door shut the door behind me.

“Um, sit down and remove your shirt.” She releases my hand then walks over to a metal cabinet behind a wooden desk. I take a seat on the coffee table in the middle of the small office. Pulling my T-shirt over my head, I take in the torn material on the back. The shirt is ruined, so I toss it into the trash can off to my left.

Tara approaches, holding up another T-shirt. This one is white whereas the one I tossed was black. It’s folded neatly, displaying the red emblem of Mac’s Pub on the front.

“You can put this on after I clean and bandage you up.” She places the shirt on Mac’s desk. His desk is in the corner of the room next to the office door.

Tara walks over to stand in front of me. She bends, placing the bandages, alcohol swabs, and paper towels next to me. She pulls my shoulder forward, making me lean into her. My palms wrap around the edge of the table and I turn my head to the side trying to not breathe in her scent.

You’d think with her working in a bar that she’d smell awful. She doesn’t, and I really don’t need her this close. Hopefully she’ll hurry this up so I can get out of here. Looks like I’m going to make it to Level sooner than I thought.

“It’s kinda deep. You might want to get it stitched up so there isn’t a big scar.” She pulls back and looks down at me the same time I look up. I shouldn’t have looked up. Fuck, she is beautiful. I look back down, but when I do her tattoo catches my attention. It’s poking out between the gap where her jeans and tight shirt meet.

“Just handle it.”

Tara doesn’t dress as skimpy as most of the wait staff here, but it’s almost worse. Tara leaves a lot to the imagination. Her blue jeans are ripped up one leg showing a little of the tan skin on her thigh. They are also torn on the backside at the knee and a small tear under the cheek on the left side of her ass. The golden skin of her stomach is slightly exposed, her pants riding low on her waist. She doesn’t normally wear them this way, but with her tattoo still healing she has to keep tight clothes away from the wound. The white T-shirt emblazoned with Mac’s Pub logo is fitted, stretching across her ample chest. Tara has a nice sized rack, and this work top shows it off. The sexiest thing about this outfit, though, are the rips at the top of the shirt that reveal a hint of her cleavage if you look close enough.

To me, this is worse than if she wore short shorts with a low-cut top, because I’m led to wonder what she’d look like without a stitch of material covering her body. I’d be willing to bet every man in here has thought the same at some point.

The stinging sensation of the alcohol catches me off guard. My hands come off the table and wrap around her thighs, squeezing the burn away. Tara takes in a quick breath of air and tenses right before releasing a breathy moan.

Fuck me if that sound didn’t turn me on and cause a small discomfort in my pants. I release the pressure, but I don’t remove my hands from her jean-clad legs.

To set the bottle down she has to lower herself and lean over me. Tara’s movements quicken, as does her breathing. All thoughts of what’s happening above her waist cease to exist in my brain because my eyes close as I pull in a long inhale of her powerful scent.

The way I grabbed her when she poured rubbing alcohol on my back has her turned on.

I can smell it.

I bite down on my tongue. I’m trying to stay still so I don’t do something stupid, but there is no use reasoning with myself when my dick takes charge.

I feel the bandage seal over my wound, and in the next second I’m standing. I don’t know if I’m trying to run or what.

Tara looks up at me and that’s my undoing. The decision is made without my consent even if I’m the one in motion. I pick her up by the thighs, moving one hand under her ass. I use the other hand to wrap her leg around me. She moves the other around me next. In one long step forward I have her back against the door and my lips slamming against her mouth.

My movements are fast. There is nothing slow about the way I’m handling her. I run my free hand up under her T-shirt. Tara has one palm resting on my bare shoulder and her other is in my hair, running her fingers through the strands.

She moans again for the third time tonight causing her mouth to open and my tongue to enter. She tastes divinely sweet. If I could get my tongue down her throat, I think I would in an attempt draw more of her luscious taste into my own mouth. Tara’s tongue starts to meld with mine. She is returning my passionate kiss. My hand glides up her stomach and over her bra. Her nipple is hard and it’s something else I want to savor.