All I Ask Page 3

  Oh, that lucky Sarah.

  Sitting up, Emily glanced back in the direction of the bar and her mystery man. The group of cowboys that had been blocking her view had dispersed and a few people moved from the fringes of the dance floor, revealing the far end of the long bar, and that was when she saw him.

  Holy. Shit.

  Two men were perched side by side, their faces illuminated by a few neon signs on the wall beside them. To the left, two women sat laughing and flirting with one of the men. The other was the one whom she’d caught laughing after she’d gone off on the bartender.

  And now his eyes were directly on her. There was no mistaking he was the one. She could feel it. He had short, dark hair, and his face was all hard lines. Except for his lips, those looked full and ripe, and they began to turn up a little in a smile. Nearly a wicked smirk. At her.

  I’m going to devour you, Emily . . .

  Emily shook that thought from her mind and slowly moved her gaze all over his upper body. He was built, muscles pushing at his shirt and trailing up the sides of his neck. When their eyes met once more he lifted his beer bottle just long enough for her to notice the acknowledgment. It was so subtle, yet so masculine, she could feel hibernating nerve endings in her body crackle to life.

  A thought flashed through her mind. This may very well be it. The moment she believed would never come, when she could experience the things she’d never believed she would. Her chance to be that girl, the fun one who took risks and got wild. It wouldn’t be an accident this time; she could be fully present and aware of what she was doing. Just this once.

  She forced herself to give a little smile—it felt like it held a touch of snark, she couldn’t seem to help herself—and then quickly looked away. He was almost too handsome. And he’d most definitely witnessed her skirmish at the bar, which was a little embarrassing. What was he thinking? She’d been the epitome of stuck-up bitch. Did that turn him on? One thing was certain: The self-assured look on his face told her that he was all trouble, with a huge ego.

  Scanning the dance floor, she caught sight of Amanda, her eyes wide and her hands lifted as if to ask, What are you gonna do?

  Emily just shrugged, because she had no idea. She hadn’t left home tonight with the intention of hooking up. Not that she’d ever left the house with that intent. Shit, she wasn’t even sure she’d know what to do with a one-night stand, and anything more with the man across the bar was out of the question.

  Emily’s eyes darted back to her mystery man. He was laughing with his friend, his smile so sexy she had to take a deep breath. His gaze cut to her once more, catching her looking at him. He grinned. Damn.

  This man was clearly out of her league when it came to flirting and hookups. Between his muscles and his body language, he was the type of man that screamed hot sex, while all her past partners had screamed mediocre sex. Her college boyfriend Zack had been her first, and he’d been . . . okay. She dated Gage for a while three years ago and they’d had sex about once a week. Also . . . meh. Basically the physical aspect of relationships was always somewhat of a disappointment, so she’d never been inspired to look for a one-night stand. And contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t often presented the opportunity. A well-meaning colleague once informed her that she appeared unapproachable. On the other hand, many women often assumed that because Emily was successful, had a wardrobe of expensive clothes, and could basically afford to do whatever the hell she wanted, she must be having daily orgasms at the hands of beautiful men.

  They couldn’t have been more wrong. She barely made time to have them at her own hands.

  This guy at the bar looked like he wanted something that she didn’t know how to give. Put her in a boardroom, behind the podium at a quarterly investor meeting, or at dinner with a client? She was balls-to-the-wall confident. But outside of business, introduce her to a charming guy with a nice smile and she often turned into that nervous sixteen-year-old girl with braces and a perfect attendance record. Or even worse, she dialed her bitch up to eleven and pushed him away before he could reject her first.

  As flattering as the drink was, she couldn’t do this tonight. But one more glance at the bar—and his empty seat—sent her heart racing.

  She wasn’t going to look around and make it obvious that she was freaking out. Before she could lose her mind any further, a large hand grabbed the back of the chair to her left. The legs screeched across the wooden floor as he turned it around and straddled it. Emily quickly slid her hands under the table to hide the evidence that she’d been reading on her phone. His sudden presence enveloped her in the dark scent of musk and masculinity.

  This close he seemed bigger, wider, and more dominating than he’d appeared across the room. Sitting up straight, she forced her lips together and managed to look at him.

  He grinned, the kind that told her he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was and he had no intention of putting her out of her misery until he was damn good and ready.

  “Hello,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. And, oh goodness, his voice. It was like melting chocolate, deep and smooth, with a hint of roughness. His voice was a Crunch bar. A gooey, delicious, heavenly, Crunch bar. His lips quirked and she prayed that her thoughts weren’t obvious on her face.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “At the risk of sounding crass, for a woman that has not one but . . . two dicks on her head, you do not seem to be having a very good time.”

  Her mouth dropped open in shock, and without time to think it through, she laughed. A full-out laugh. He joined her, his own sounding rugged and sexy. The lines at the corners of his eyes made it obvious that he spent time outdoors, and the size of his biceps hinted at manual labor. No tie, no suit, no business lingo. He had just walked up and used the word dick, which meant he was totally unlike the guys she normally encountered on an everyday basis. And she wasn’t sure if she should be offended or amused. Either way she was a little turned on.

  “Well, you’re laughing. I take that as a good sign.” He scooted the chair closer to the table, putting their faces only a few feet apart. Something about his forwardness sparked a moment’s concern, but a quick glance at his handsome face and genuine smile had her ignoring the warning. Maybe she’d test him a little bit before sending him packing.

  Emily cleared her own throat and leaned on the table, gently interlocking her fingers. “A person can laugh for a variety of reasons. It’s not necessarily a sign of acceptance. Or an invitation.”

  His expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but he pulled himself together and grinned. For a moment he glanced out to the dance floor as if collecting his thoughts. When he turned back to her, his chin dipped, head tilted a bit, and his voice went dark. “True. But if I play my cards right, and I keep making you laugh, I’m hoping I can end this conversation with an invitation.”

  Their eyes met in challenge at his second outlandish zinger. On top of that, the way he’d approached her, so cocksure and full of swagger . . . it just felt raw. And then he’d made her laugh, which had set an interesting tone to the entire situation. This could be her chance. One night with a man who would make her feel as if she were stepping into her fantasy. Into one of her books.

  It was as if he’d managed to cut through all the awkward bullshit with that easy and outrageous comment. He wasn’t baiting her with pretty words or charming lies, the kind of weird conversations she never knew how to navigate or keep up with. No, this man was throwing an offer on the table like a business deal, and even a former nerd knew what that offer was. No-strings sex.

  With this hot, blue-collar, beer-drinking epitome of male virility.

  And she wanted it. Suddenly she wanted it more than anything. Never in her life had a man like this had his hands on her. She wasn’t even sure why he desired it, but she didn’t want to waste time asking questions like Why me? Maybe, just maybe, this man could . . . devour her.

  Emily’s eyes flicked to the dan
ce floor and clashed with Amanda’s who was holding her hands together in prayer and nodding yes. She found herself sliding into her business mode, the one where she could think quickly on her feet, and speak with complete confidence.

  With that thought, and her friend’s encouragement, Emily glanced back to the gentleman and gave a small smile. “Well then, for both of our sakes, I hope you play your cards right.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Reeve was shocked. All the way over to her table he’d been telling himself how stupid this was. Any woman capable of telling off Big Steve in such a haughty, blue-blooded tone had no interest in a guy like Reeve. But that was the thing: Watching her stand there in that dress, so sure of herself while she let the bartender have it, had been sexy as all hell. He’d instantly decided to ignore the warnings in his head and consider it a challenge. If nothing else, listening to her give him the slip would be sexy in its own right.

  He’d debated what he would say to her, but then the minute he’d sat down he’d ended up dropping all pretense and just said the first thing that came to mind. Figuring if she blew him off he’d console his ego with the fact that she’d just been uptight and offended by his use of the word dick.

  What a good decision that had been, because she seemed to have liked it.

  “Well, all right then. Here’s to a mutually beneficial ending.” Reeve smiled and held out his beer bottle. She reciprocated, lifting her glass with perfectly manicured red nails. Her green eyes sparkled as the glasses clinked together. Damn, from a distance she’d been a knockout, but up close she was perfection from head to toe. Her blond hair was the shiniest he’d ever seen, and her skin flawless. She was breathtaking.

  “I’m surprised that you came over after witnessing my altercation with the bartender,” she said with an eyebrow raise.

  “You certainly did crack the whip on him, didn’t you? But you shouldn’t be surprised. Every guy around that bar had a hard-on when you left.” Reeve chuckled when her mouth dropped open. “Men might appear to be the dominant species, but really we like it when a woman puts us in our place. It’s sexy. And it gives us a good reason to smack her ass later.”

  Her eyes went wide. Well, shit. Yep, now she was offended. Or maybe she was turned on, if the slow bloom of pink on her cheeks was any indication. Or the way she shifted in her seat. And what had gotten into him? This was not the way you came on to a lady. Especially not this kind of lady. He was doing it all ass-backward. And yet something in his gut was telling him this was the way he would end up with her on the back of his bike. Damn, he wanted that badly.

  “Does this shtick usually work for you?” There was a hint of agitation in her voice. So maybe he’d been wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. She’d figured him out and was going to send him packing. Might as well come clean.

  “Hell no,” he said with a grin. And that was no lie. He was known to be direct, but this was a bit much even for him. Still, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was interested. “But something about you is telling me you are a no-bullshit kind of woman.”

  “That’s accurate.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Uhh, well. Currently . . . I am . . . working in an office.”

  Interesting. He angled his head in her direction. “No personal information. I get it.”

  She shrugged. “My employment doesn’t really seem relevant to what we’re doing here.”

  “Fair enough.” And what were they doing here? He hoped it was the delicate dance of back and forth that led to casual sex, but it was hard to tell with this one. She was definitely going to make him work for it. Now it was his turn to shift in his seat. “What’s your name?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not yet. So far I haven’t heard anything from you that makes me think this is worth pursuing.”

  “Ouch.” Reeve quickly stood up, planning to flip the chair around and sit back down. But when her eyes turned panicked, and her hands came up to the table, he knew that she’d been bluffing. She thought he’d been about to walk away, and disappointment was written all over her face.

  When he sat back down and winked, she let out a miffed huff. Tease. He knew she was relieved. “So tell me, beautiful . . .”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Then give me something to call you.”

  She sighed deeply and glanced down at the phone she’d dropped into her lap before meeting his eyes again. “Sarah.”

  “Pretty name.” And she was also lying, which stung a little. What did he look like, a creeper? “But I think after that scene with Big Steve at the bar, I’ll just call you Whip. So, Whip, what do I need to say to entice you to get on my bike and come home with me tonight?”

  Okay, maybe he was a creeper. Despite that, her eyes widened at his words, and as much as she appeared to be trying for indifference she couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “You have a bike?”

  Ah, so she was looking for an adventure. He gave her a half grin. “I do. An ’89 Harley. Parked outside. You ever been on one before?”

  She shook her head and took a sip of her drink.

  “But you want to. I can tell.”

  A coy look crossed her face and she shrugged her bare shoulders. Good God he wanted to touch her. Her skin was like porcelain, the length of her neck begging for attention.

  “Actually I never thought about my desire to ride until just recently,” she said.

  “Really? I love a woman that has a desire to ride.” Her blush deepened and Reeve’s need to have her skyrocketed. “It’s starting to look like the stars have aligned for us, Whip.”

  She laughed. “You’re insane. I’m a smart woman. Getting up and leaving with you, a total stranger, would be incredibly naive.”

  “Yes, it could be, potentially. However, I know for a fact that I’m a good guy and I’m pretty damn sure I could make you glad you came.” He waggled his eyebrows, happy when she caught his horrible joke and laughed.

  “That might be the most atrocious pun I’ve ever heard.”

  But she was smiling and that was the only thing that mattered. He wanted her to keep on laughing. “It was, yes. I botched it. I meant to say, I’ll make you glad you came twice.”

  She shook her head but her grin stayed in place. The music transitioned into a slow song, some played-out country ballad. It changed the mood to something a little less playful and more . . . sensual.

  “I reiterate,” she said. She used some seriously big words, this woman. “Naive. How do I know you’re not a murderer or rapist? Are you in the military?”

  Reeve’s head jerked back, his mouth falling open. “You lump military men in with murderers and rapists?”

  “Sorry, no. That didn’t come out right. But I do have a rule. No military guys. Not even for casual sex.”

  So she had done casual sex, which usually suited him fine, ideal even, but something about her doing it irritated him. He’d kind of hoped she was doing something out of the ordinary here. A double standard, but he couldn’t help it. And what the hell was her issue with military guys?

  “And what offends you about the military? Just curious.” Was he going to lie to her? Could he? Becoming a United States Marine, serving eight years, three tours, and now being a member of the Guard might be some of his greatest personal achievements. No, they definitely were. Could he deny that for a piece of ass tonight? He watched her bite her lips as she contemplated her answer.

  Damn. Maybe.

  “Nothing offends me about the military. I respect it. I have just chosen not to interact with military men on a personal level. Bad experience.”

  “With a boyfriend?” Now he really wanted to know. Maybe he could change her mind.

  “Not like that. A stepdad. He’s a general in the marines. And a complete asshole.”

  Well . . . fuck.

  Reeve swallowed quickly so he could actually speak over the lump in his throat. A marine didn’t take fucking a general’s daughter lightly. But d
amn she was sexy. And to hell with it, he was in the army now. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  “Hey, uh . . . we were thinking about going soon,” a voice called from the other side of the table. Reeve sat up and met eyes with the bride-to-be. She gave him an excited smile and stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Amanda.”

  “Reeve.” He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Amanda. Congratulations on your impending nuptials.”

  “Oh, thank you. Two weeks away. So exciting.”

  Reeve nodded and was then suddenly inspired to manipulate the situation. “I was just, ah, getting to know Sarah a little better.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened at that, her mouth dropping open. Her eyes darted between him and Sarah for a moment before she went on. “Oh, Sarah, yes. Isn’t she the sweetest? We’ve been best friends for over twenty years. Did she tell you—oop.” Amanda jerked her head toward Sarah-who-definitely-wasn’t-Sarah, who had clearly just kicked her friend under the table. Her eyes were narrowed, and Reeve knew a shut-up face when he saw one.

  Sarah must have good friends or make a mean threat, because Amanda stood back up. “Reeve, it was so nice to meet you. I’ll, uhhh, I’ll just go over here and let you two talk another minute.”

  “Still don’t trust me,” Reeve said. It wasn’t a question.

  “It’s nothing personal. I’m sure you’re a nice guy.”

  Yeah, maybe this one wasn’t worth the effort. He could respect the desire for anonymity, but this was feeling like more drama than he was willing to put up with. And yet . . . God, he was a glutton for punishment, because he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “Let me at least take you for a drive. If that’s all you want, fine. I just want you to experience the bike.”

  She gave him a slow smile. The kind that had him imagining her naked beneath him as she looked at him like that. “You realize that also requires trust.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I know you’ll love it. The engine vibrating between your legs, the wind in your hair. Nothing like it.”