nip of Liz’s nails gentled as he tilted his hips into hers and rubbed his erection against her mound. A second, far breathier sigh slid between their joined mouths, and she shifted her pelvis in a restless way that applied pressure to his constrained dick so forcefully it bordered on pain. Her tongue shot to life, no longer denying her passionate nature, but stroking against his with wild urgency. Meeting that urgency head on, by stripping her naked and banging her on the hardwood dance floor, held real appeal. Any other place and time he might have done it. Here, in his bar, he didn’t dare.
He might talk sex here, might even regularly meet a lover at the bar, but he would never risk his authority with his employees by doing a woman while on the job. Hell, he’d already risked too much with his current behavior.
Dusty lifted his mouth from Liz’s to find her looking at him, nostrils flaring and breath coming in warm, sexy, shallow pants. The points of her aroused nipples stabbed at her dress, taunting his mouth to pull them inside and suck.
“Bastard.” She hissed the word, bringing his attention from her tits to the narrowed set of her eyes and making him question his decision not to screw her here and now.
Had ticked-off women always had this rampant effect on his libido, or did the mad urge to plow into her despite their surroundings have to do with her ordering him out when she’d been on the verge of orgasm? Was her behavior that night the real reason he’d gone so long without sex?
He’d told himself the recent dry spell had to do with a hectic work schedule and not lack of desire. Maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe her accusation of him as a bad lover had messed with his ego and, in turn, his head.
“Looks like you’re busy, so I guess I’ll see you around,” Frilly Guy said from somewhere to Dusty’s left.
Liz glanced over and mumbled a good-bye. Leveling her gaze on Dusty, she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Do you want to die?”
Only if they were talking about the little death, and then, yeah, for better or worse, he was rock hard and more than ready. “Man like that only has one thing on his mind.”
She went wide-eyed. “Ohmigawd! You think he was trying to get in my pants? And here I thought he wanted to hook up some afternoon for tea and cookies.” Dismissing the innocent act, she grabbed her beer bottle from the bar and pushed past him. “I came here to find a guy to fuck, so if you don’t mind—”
Grabbing hold of her arm, he spun her back. “Does Colin know why you’re here?”
She looked incredulous. “Maybe you’ve suddenly decided to care if my brother approves of my behavior around men, but I could give a crap less.”
It wasn’t her behavior around men in general, Dusty told himself, but that around strangers who could be after her for God only knew what reasons. Right. As if his own intentions hadn’t taken a far from noble turn. “He worries about you.”
“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t. I’m a big girl.”
She sure as hell was.
He should let her remark slide and her arm go before he made himself look like a complete hypocrite. Blame it on the celibacy streak, but temptation was too great to resist. He sent his gaze the length of her, lingering on her small but firm breasts and then lower to her crotch.
Was she wet for him after that kiss?
Dusty inhaled, half-expecting the musky scent of her arousal to cut through the mixed aroma of cigarettes, perfume, and greasy food. Returning to her eyes, he let the lust reflect in his voice. “As if I could forget.”
For a fleeting moment, desire kindled in Liz’s eyes, deepening the already-intense shade of blue. Then she pulled her arm free of his hold and planted a hand at her hip. “Let me clear something up for you, Marr. When I said I came here to find a guy to fuck, I didn’t mean you. I’m looking for someone who doesn’t need a ten-step program to find a woman’s G-spot.”
The barb pricked deeper than he cared to acknowledge. He pushed out a laugh. “Babe, I had your G-spot pegged in seconds. Or did you forget you were about to come before you pulled the Jekyll and Hyde routine and tossed me out on my ass?”
“I’m not your babe, and you’re damned lucky you got as far as you did. Now, unless you came over here for some reason other than to piss me off, I suggest you get back to your flavor of-the-night. As good as you think you are, I seriously doubt Blondie’s going to wait forever.”
Dusty glanced at the pool tables and found the blonde standing where he’d left her. He should be thrilled the woman had stuck around after witnessing him doing the tongue-mambo with Liz. Another night he would have been. Tonight he could only see the desperation in the move. The blonde would be no challenge for his sexual confidence. Whether or not his recent dry spell had to do with Liz’s cutting accusation, he suddenly found he needed that challenge.
Smirking at Liz, he teased, “Watching, were you? Getting jealous?”
She snorted and turned on her heel, flashing a tight ass he knew she owed to daily jogs. An ass, he also knew, that felt more than a little fine filling his hands. “Good-bye, Marr. Be careful not to trip over your ego on the way back to the pool table. An obstacle that big’s liable to cause serious damage.”
2
Goddamn Dusty.
Liz had come to Dusty’s Backroom to prove a point. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him and his bedroom techniques, she didn’t want to sleep with him again. The plan had been to find another man capable of getting her juicy wet while Dusty was in viewing range. Thanks to the big, arrogant dickhead, the plan had backfired in a major way.
Dusty hadn’t stopped at chasing off the metrosexual in filmy pink, who seemed more infatuated with his hair and nails than her body. Dusty had to kiss her, had to remind her exactly how good he was at getting her hot.
And wet.
Damn her messed-up hormones and even more messed-up head, but she’d been dripping from the first touch of his tongue to the last brush of his hard cock. No other guy in the place had looked to be of screwable quality after that. She’d spent the better part of the night sitting at the bar, chatting with Jen, the head bartender. Now that the place was closing, Liz had the pleasure of going home alone and orgasmless yet again.
“No luck?”
Jen had disappeared into the back to help with cleanup, and Liz was taking a last pull from her beer when the amused masculine voice with a slight drawl reached her. She set the bottle on the bar and swiveled on her stool to find Dusty smiling down at her. She growled in the back of her throat.
Could the man not get it through his thick skull that she didn’t like him? Didn’t even want to see his too-damned-sexy face?
The lights had been turned on high, exposing every lean, lickable angle.
She shivered as she imagined the sandy-blond whiskers that darkened his square jawline and edged into his goatee scraping over her aroused flesh. Rumor had it some women came from nipple stimulation alone. She’d never believed she could be among that highly orgasmic group, but maybe the chafe of Dusty’s coarse facial hair over her breasts would be enough to empty her mind of thought and send her body spiraling toward climax.
Yeah, and that idea could go the hell back to wherever it came from. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m hooking up with someone in the parking lot in a few minutes.”
The right side of his mouth twitched. A devilish twinkle lit his dark brown eyes. He propped an elbow on the bar and leaned against it, the collar of his partially unbuttoned black dress shirt gaping open to reveal curling chest hair the same dirty-blond shade as his goatee. “Fucking in the parking lot—sounds like a classy guy.”
Pulling her attention back to his face, Liz struggled not to recall how delectable his body was beneath his shirt. Struggled and failed. Every inch of ripped abdominal and