Читать книгу Getting Off - Эбби Грин - Страница 8

Chapter Two

As much as Liam wanted the distraction of sexual oblivion, he hadn’t actually come into this bar to pick up the first girl who sat down beside him. But then she’d walked in. Caitlin. Bringing with her an intoxicating scent of roses and musk.

The minute he’d looked at her, taking in the petite lithe body on the stool beside his, his brains had migrated southward so fast his head had spun.

Her small pale hands were on her bottle of beer, pulling at the label. He jerked his head toward it and tried to ignore the increasing pressure in his crotch against the unforgiving denim of his jeans. ‘You know they say that’s a sign of sexual frustration?’

Wide almond-shaped eyes of the deepest velvet brown went to his and she blushed. Blushed! He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had blushed in front of him.

But she recovered quickly. ‘Yeah, and people who say things like that have one-track minds.’

Her voice was husky. It had a direct effect on Liam’s body. He could feel the blood pumping to his cock in earnest now, making it harden and swell even more. He had to shift slightly to ease the discomfort, slightly perturbed by the strength of his reaction.

She pushed back some hair behind her ear, which was small and feminine. Her hair was long, below shoulder length, and wavy. A deep auburn colour. Her skin was creamy, flawless. Her mouth...was soft and full. Very kissable.

She glanced at him and his dick jerked. Damn.

‘I’m here for a while...not sure how long.’

Liam forced his mind out of his pants with an effort. ‘So you’re just...hanging out?’

She glanced away again and lifted one slim shoulder, ‘I guess. I’m looking for a job...’

Liam’s gaze narrowed on her, the sweeping curve of her delicate jaw. He sensed she was holding something back. But what did he care? All he knew was that the prospect of a little flirtation seemed to be exactly the thing to drive away the lingering broodiness that had clung to him since he’d decided to come into the bar.

‘Will you excuse me?’

Liam blinked, feeling slightly disorientated. She was looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes.

‘I’m just going to the bathroom.’

He found his voice. ‘Sure.’

She swivelled on the stool and jumped off and Liam was shaking his head at her lack of street smarts when she left her bag behind, but then his eyes tracked her as she walked away and his mind went blank.

He went from sixty to a hundred into a raging erection as he took in a very lush butt and slim legs encased in skinny jeans. She was lithe but deliciously curvy. When she turned to the side to let someone pass, he saw the thrust of small but succulently plump breasts push against her T-shirt. Their hard tips were defined and his mouth watered at the thought of baring her, and sucking one deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. Teasing it with his teeth.

He turned back to the bar and pulled her bag close where he could keep an eye on it. Sweet Jesus. He was literally throbbing now, his jeans painfully restrictive. He scowled. That girl was trouble with a capital T. It might as well be a neon sign over her head with an arrow pointing downward. And damn it to hell if he didn’t want to take trouble for a ride, given half a chance.

* * *

I tried to walk away as elegantly as I could from the sex god at the bar. I hoped I wouldn’t trip and fall flat on my face. My body felt like it was overheating. Between my legs was indecently slick. I could feel it when I moved. When I eventually got to the bathroom I locked myself into a stall and took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. Thankfully, it seemed that with a bit of distance my vibrating clitoris was also calming down.

Christ on a bike. There was no doubt about it. That man out there was fun, freedom and adventure all wrapped up in the sexiest packaging I’d ever seen in my life. And I’d only been in Manhattan for a week.

I huffed out a breath. Cool your jets, Caitlin. I was getting overexcited. The guy could be some kind of sexually deviant axe murderer.

But...a voice wheedled in my head, he was way too gorgeous to be a sexual deviant or a murderer. Actually, the thought of sexual deviance wasn’t so repugnant for a moment. Maybe I needed some kind of perversion to throw me over the elusive orgasmic edge.

A bit of ass-slapping or bondage? After all, wasn’t that all the rage these days? My bottom seemed to heat up at the very prospect.

I wondered vaguely how many things I could ask a man like him to try in the space of one night? My heart sped up again—what was I doing? Already having sex with the guy in my head just because we’d exchanged a few sentences and he was more beautiful than any man I’d ever seen? No doubt he was just being polite, humouring the tourist.

A quick glance in the mirror outside the toilet stall confirmed that I looked faintly manic. Cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. Nipples standing out like beacons saying bite me quick, suck me slowly! Just that thought...of his mouth latched onto one of my sensitized nipples nearly made my legs buckle.

Two girls came in then, chatting and laughing and I straightened up and walked out. As I approached him again he was turned to the bar, nursing his drink. I saw that he’d pulled my bag closer and had the strap looped around his wrist and something in me melted at that consideration. Normally I’d never be so careless...it just went to prove how fried my brain was.

His back was very broad, tapering down to slim hips. He was wearing jeans. His arms were muscled and just then he lifted his glass and the muscle bunched and flexed. And there went my clit again, as if a homing device had started back into action because I was only feet away from him.

As if sensing my intense focus, he turned just as I reached the stool. I clambered back up, but so inelegantly that he curled a hand around my upper arm to help steady me.

Instant heat liquefied what was left of my brain. His hand lingered on my arm even when I didn’t need it. I looked at him and my mouth got dry. Heart beating fast. Maybe the prospect of sex wasn’t so imaginary.

His eyes went to my mouth as if deliberately and then back up to meet my gaze. He was telling me he wanted me. Or was he? My body hummed with awareness and hope. His hand finally loosened on my arm, but he didn’t take it away, he let it drift down, fingers trailing suggestively, sexily, against my inner arm, making my skin tingle, touching off the side of my breast.

He was interested. No doubt now.

My heart pounded.

‘Can I get you another beer?’

I didn’t even look to see if my last one was finished. ‘Sure. Thank you.’ I sucked in oxygen as he looked away from me to get the barman’s attention, trying in vain to make the heat die down in my cheeks. And body.

I saw that he left a couple more dollars than required as the tip and said with some embarrassment, ‘I forgot...about leaving the tips here. We don’t do that at home.’

I noticed that his hands were big and masculine looking as he pushed the bottle of beer toward me. They looked like the kind of hands that could do some serious manual labour and those clever long fingers looked as if they could stroke a woman to an effortless orgasm.

Face burning at the rampant image of those fingers exploring my body, I vaguely heard him ask something. He was looking at me expectantly. Mortification burned me up. I was never this distracted by a guy.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Where are you staying?’

His voice was so deep I felt it in the pit of my belly. Just like in my dream.

Seizing on banal conversation as if that might restore some sanity, I said, ‘Not far from here...my aunt’s apartment. I’m looking after it for a few weeks while she’s in India, until I find my own place.’

Liam frowned. ‘Is she from Ireland, too?’

I nodded and explained, ‘My father and aunt came to look for work when they were barely out of their teens, they got green cards. My father met my mother here—from home, too. Me and my older brother and sister were all born here, but we moved back to Dublin when I was still a baby. My aunt stayed on. She’s a bit eccentric.’

Liam quirked a half smile. ‘Plenty of those in New York. So what kind of work are you looking for?’

I had to rip my eyes off his mouth...that smile had just distracted me all over again. I dragged my wanton gaze away, focused on my beer.

‘I’ve got a degree in marketing and business...so I’ll be looking for an internship somewhere and then hopefully a job...but in the meantime I’m looking for waitressing or bar work to tide me over.’

‘So you’re staying awhile?’

I snuck him a look and all I could see were those amazing blue eyes. I nodded. ‘There’s not much going on at home. Recession.’

Jesus. I could hardly string a sentence together. In a bid to get his focus off me, I asked him, ‘So what about you? What do you do?’

Liam took a swig of his beer and I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Cue yet more heat between my legs. Was there nothing this man could do that I wouldn’t find a turn-on?

‘I manage a bar.’ He grimaced slightly. ‘Well, that’s to say, I sort of own it. It’s the family business. We do food during the day and then it’s a full bar at night. A good old-fashioned Irish American bar.’

Now I frowned and turned toward him. ‘Sort of own it?’

His eyes flashed as if he regretted letting that slip out. ‘I do own it, it’s just complicated because my old man is still alive, but he hasn’t been involved in the business for a long time.’

He looked away abruptly and I felt the keen sense not to push. Then he looked at me again and his eyes were searingly blue.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’

His words detonated any slim chance of me clinging onto any sense of sanity when I felt as though I was burning up from the inside out. No man, ever, had made me feel so aroused...or aware of myself.

I huffed a weak joke. ‘You’re not a psychopath, are you?’

He smiled and it was feral. ‘Would I tell you if I were?’

I swallowed and saw nothing but a heat haze of desire that seemed to cocoon us. I wanted this man’s mouth on mine...all over. I wanted to press against him so hard my body would leave an imprint on his.

He smiled then, making little bombs of sensation explode all over my skin. ‘No, I’m not a psychopath, Caitlin, although my buddy Mike might disagree when we watch the Knicks and they’re losing.’

I melted even more. Excitement seized my insides, making them tight. I wanted this guy. With a hunger I’d never experienced before. It was physical, visceral. Before I could lose my nerve, I said, ‘Yes, I’d like to leave.’

And then, just in case he was in any doubt I’d suddenly decided to leave without him, I added, ‘With you.’

Those blue eyes glittered.

‘I have a ride outside. Come on.’

He stepped from his stool and I knew there was no going back. He had to be at least six foot four. Broad all over, but lean. Clearly defined pectorals, flat belly. Slim hips. And the faded jeans. Clinging low to those hips. Muscled thighs.

I hadn’t even realized I’d been giving him such a thorough once-over until I heard a dry ‘Ready to go?’ and looked up to realize that he was holding my bag. My head nodded jerkily, blood pounding. I slipped off the stool and landed close to his body, and felt every inch of my very average five foot four next to his towering height.

His sheer size and masculinity overwhelmed me for a moment. He was too perfect. This couldn’t be happening. But I really hoped it was. He took my hand in his and I felt calluses on the palm. My legs were like jelly as he tugged me through the heaving bar.

The thought that I was being a complete slut to leave a bar with a guy I’d only met a scant hour before entered my head, but I quashed it. There was something different about him, trustworthy. No matter how desperate I was to embark on a pilgrimage of sexual adventure, I wasn’t completely stupid or without morals. Yeah, right.

He opened the door and we stepped out into the warm balmy Manhattan evening. The sky was a stunning dusky violet colour, completely clear. He was still holding my hand. He was even more gorgeous now, shadows making his face look all lean and stark. Dangerous. But in a sexy way. Not in a psychopathic way, I hoped, in spite of his joking.

His thumb swept across the pulse point at my wrist, and my legs wobbled. Right then I was prepared to take the risk.

The air seemed to sizzle between us, like a live current. He came close and let my hand go to lift his and slide it around the back of my neck. Every nerve point in my body sat up and vibrated gently, none more so than in my pants.

‘Caitlin...?’

The deep voice made my insides clench. I was fixated on his mouth.

‘Hmm?’

He cursed then, but I barely heard it before his head dipped and his mouth settled over mine. I had to clutch onto his T-shirt to stay standing. It was the kiss of my dreams. Forceful yet gentle. My mouth opened under his, eager to taste him, and his tongue touched mine in a teasing caress before his teeth nipped at my lower lip.

I fisted my hands in his T-shirt, the backs of my fingers grazing that hard wall of steel, and I went up on tiptoe. Angling my head, the kiss suddenly became deeper and I stroked my tongue along his. His hand clasped my head tighter, holding me captive.

I was drowning in sensations, eddying and swirling through my lower body. I wasn’t even aware of pushing my breasts against him, seeking to ease the stinging of my nipples.

After a long drugging moment when the entire world could have gone up in flames and combusted around me, Liam pulled back. I opened my eyes and felt dizzy. My lips were swollen, tingling. Those stunning blue eyes looked at me and he uttered, ‘Holy crap.’