Every time Mar appeared I had been saved from my own stupidity. It was getting harder and harder to keep my anger focused on what she had done. A welter of guilt opened deep inside my chest, tears stung my eyes and I felt as if I were drowning in self-pity when a fresh new fizzy drink was plunked beneath my nose. Strong tanned fingers attached to a very nice wrist that disappeared too quickly under the cuff of a weather beaten leather jacket. Oh, but what the jacket hugged. My eyes roamed upwards and all thoughts of Marlene were swamped by an insane spurt of longing sweeping through me like wildfire.
The sexy man from the bar bought me a refill. For a split second I considered refusing, hadn't I decided I was done drinking? Didn't I need to sober up for some reason? My mind attempted to focus, tried to stop the hand reaching for the glass. Wasn't it dangerous taking a drink from a strange man? My fingers hesitated. As if anticipating my thought, he leaned over, chiseled lips wrapping around the straw sensually, slowly sucking the ginger colored drink making his throat ripple. Uninhibited thoughts of watching those firm lips paying homage to my aching breasts popped into my mind and in a daze I leaned forward as he retreated with a smile. My lips found the spot on the straw and reveled in his taste, spicy ... cinnamon and cloves. Sipping the new drink, eyes wide I tried to take in everything about him. The faded denim rode low on his hips allowing a hint of dark fur to peek from behind the bottom button on his shirt before the toned glimpse of male skin disappeared from view as he leaned back, putting the visual taste of heaven just out of my line of sight.
"Thankss forr the drrink." Damn it! I bit down on the tip of my tongue in frustration at the slurred sound of my voice. Wallflower frump, I pinched my thighs under the table and hoped it would help me concentrate on not embarrassing myself.
"You're very welcome," rolled out in a warm baritone that caressed a part of my body I hadn't known existed. Sweet Saint Rita, even his voice was a sin-filled enticement. The man was simply too damned good to be true.
"Please, God, don't tell me you're gay." No sooner were the words uttered when I closed my eyes in utter mortification. Deep rich laughter surrounded me, pulling me forward and I swayed towards the sound. Cracking open an eye, I was delighted to notice him leaning close the second before the warm silk of the tip of his nose slid along my over-heated cheek to nuzzle the side of my face. Hot spice, mulled whiskey and musky male scent filled my nostrils superheating the blood and revving my alcohol sedated hiccupping pulse into screaming overdrive.
"Would you dance with me?" The innocent question burned with double entendre. Wriggling in my seat, feeling the sudden response of my body as moisture dampened my panties. The soft seat of the booth rubbed sinuously against the aroused flesh as we swayed closer.