Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(26)

And that’s when Dare saw Haven.

Standing at the bar in a pair of killer tight jeans, heeled black sandals, and a clingy, form-fitting black shirt that emphasized her curves. Her hair was stunning—pulled back in some sort of complicated arrangement and tumbling in soft waves all the way down her back. The crowd immediately around her quieted for a moment, and she must’ve noticed, because she laughed and glanced over her shoulder, a puzzled expression on her face.

And that’s when she saw him. “Dare,” she breathed, her voice high and light, clearly the effect of alcohol, like the pretty pink flush on her cheeks.

But what he noticed even more was the makeup on her face. She didn’t need it—in fact, he preferred her without it—but he couldn’t deny that she looked like a model done up to such perfection.

Jesus Christ.

Dare was rock hard in an instant, his effort to rein in his body by avoiding her all week undone with just one glance, just one word.

“What are you doing?” he bit out.

“Trying new things,” she said, swaying a little on her low heels. “Join me?” One eyebrow went up just the littlest amount, and the challenge implicit in that tiny gesture was like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull.

He sidled in next to her, so that when she turned to face Cora, her back was at his front. “Exactly what is it you’re trying?” he asked over her shoulder.

She spun to face him. “For right now, different kinds of drinks. I never had anything before tonight. Can you believe it?”

Uh, yeah. He could. Though it was hard to resist her obvious pleasure in trying something new, even apart from the growing inebriation. She wasn’t drunk yet, but she was a few sips past tipsy for sure. It made her body fluid and loose, all of her usual timidity and tenseness gone. The confidence she wore might’ve been all the liquor talking, but it was still sexy as f*ck.

Why did she affect him this way? She was too young and too innocent and too in trouble for him. And did he mention too young?

“And what have you tried so far?” he asked, his gaze dragging over the line of bottles and shot glasses arrayed in front of her.

She chuckled. “I don’t remember what all their names were,” she said, looking to Jeb, the club’s other current prospect. “Except for the Buttery Nipple. That one’s kinda hard to forget.”

Jeb braced his hands on the bar top, his brown hair covered by a black doo-rag knotted around his head. Dare must’ve been throwing off some hard-core displeasure, because the kid looked at him like he knew he needed to tread carefully. “She’s had very small sips of red and white wine, vodka, tequila, whiskey, and rum—just enough to taste them, and mini-shots of a Buttery Nipple, Alabama Slammer, and Lemon Drop. So far.” A mostly empty glass of water also sat in front of her, so at least the kid had been doing that much for her.

Haven grinned at him. “Vodka and tequila are not good by themselves. Though you probably know that. But whiskey is pretty good, and I really liked the Alabama Slammer and Buttery Nipple.” She wobbled, her hand gripping the edge of the bar largely responsible for holding her steady. “What should I try next?” she asked Dare.

“A Blow Job!” someone behind them yelled. The crowd laughed and cheered.

Despite the fact that Haven’s cheeks filled with a dark pink, she met Dare’s gaze and licked her lips, making them shiny. “Should I? Try a Blow Job?”

Dare’s cock throbbed as a dull ache settled into his balls.

She stepped closer. “Dare?”

He leaned his head close to hers so that his lips brushed against her ear. As he spoke, she shuddered, and the reaction did nothing to cool his blood. “Do you know what you’re doing right now?”

One of her hands gripped his shoulder. “I’m trying to live, to be a normal girl, to have fun.” She pulled away enough to peer into his eyes, and the desire in hers was so f*cking blatant that he wasn’t sure how he resisted tossing her over his shoulder, taking her to one of a half dozen places he could get to in under a minute, and burying himself deep inside her sweet little body. Hell if he wasn’t a dirty old man. Her hand dragged from his shoulder down his chest, where it rested. “That’s all,” she said. “You should join me.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a small nod. “Have whatever you want, Haven,” he said, meaning the words in all kinds of ways he had no business meaning them.

“I want a Blow Job, Jeb,” she said, grinning at the prospect.

“That’s what he said!” someone called to the group’s amusement.

“You want a regular one or a mini?” Jeb asked, his gaze cutting between her and Dare. But Dare wasn’t paying the bartender any mind. His eyes were all for Haven—he studied her expressions, the makeup painting her face, her smiles. Her delight was a physical presence all around her, and was likely what had drawn the crowd in the first place. Her pleasure was raw, honest, pure. And it was like she was the flame and they were all moths, drawn to her, unable to resist her light, her beauty, her heat.

Cora leaned closer, a big smile on her face. “You should do a regular one, because you drink this one without any hands.”

A confused expression swam over Haven’s features. “How the heck does that work?”

“Make it two,” Cora said, winking at Jeb. “I’ll show you.”