Читать книгу What Happens In Vegas... - Lauren Dane - Страница 10

There was a reason I’d never worked first shift until two months ago. Before ten in the morning and a pot of black coffee, I was a total bitch. Bitchiness was not the mood to be in when dealing with men who’d lost their asses at gambling and now hoped to pick up a cocktail waitress to help lick their wounds, along with their cocks.

If I was going to lick anyone’s cock this time of the day, it would be Jack’s. Since I’d left Jack in the suite upstairs over three hours ago, that wasn’t on the agenda.

“Hey, baby.” The drunken idiot at the table I currently served punctuated the words by grabbing my right butt cheek.

I growled under my breath, resisting the urge to upend the tray of partially empty glasses balanced on the fingers of my left hand over his lap. Sometimes it really blew working for tips. Sure, I could have the guy tossed out for sexual harassment, but it would cost me the twenty I’d seen him slide under his empty rocks glass for me to find when I bussed. If I was going to forgo making money, I might as well have stayed in bed with Jack. Let him use those dynamite hands on me a little longer. Not to mention that tongue that could get me climaxing in seconds, or his impatient cock that had strayed from my choice routine and still had me coming for a third time.

I shifted, realizing my pussy was moist from just thinking about the way he’d gotten me off last night. Spotting Jack at a table across the bar didn’t help matters.

I gave the drunk a sympathetic smile. “Sorry,” I said loudly, to be heard over the salsa music blasting over the speaker system, “but my boyfriend’s watching and he doesn’t take kindly to my sleeping with other guys.” I sent a pointed look Jack’s way, who in return shot my assgrabber a glare.

Ass-Grabber squinted, as if he was having trouble making Jack out—given his state of inebriation, he likely was. “Don’t look too big from here. Bet I could take ’em.”

“Probably.” In his dreams. Jack was twice the man this schmuck was, in both size and character. “But since I happen to love him, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try.”

I loved him?

I nearly dropped my tray when the words left my mouth. I loved Jack, sure, but in the sort of way that had to do with being friends since we were old enough to pee standing up. I snickered to myself as I made my way to Jack’s table. At nine, he’d bet me I couldn’t master the fine art of vertical urination. I have no clue what the stakes were, but I’d won and without a stray trickle.

Jack’s words cut through my reflections the moment I reached his table. “You’re still ticked about the way I took off without saying goodbye last time.”

Apparently he’d taken my flippant good-night words to heart and believed I’d ditched the suite early this morning as a form of payback. After the sappy-ass way I’d confessed to missing him last night, and the even sappier way my heart had warmed with his response he’d missed me more, the thought had crossed my mind, but that wasn’t the reason I’d left.

I rolled my eyes. “Flatter yourself much? I had to work the morning shift. I didn’t bother leaving a note because I was running late and I knew this would be the first place you’d look.”

“Since when you do work mornings? You’re not even nice to yourself before noon.”

“Since Tammy went on maternity leave two months ago. They needed someone to pick up a few extra shifts every week, and it just so happens I’m saving up for something special. You’d be surprised how that kinda thing motivates a person.”

He smiled knowingly. “Still holding out for the Sudsbury property?”

My heart gave a funny little kick. I would have liked to have passed it off as arousal, but I could never lie to myself that effectively. Others knew about my dream of buying the Sudsbury property—a three-acre parcel located on a private lake ten miles outside of town—and turning it into a B and B. Not one of those others had inquired on my progress in months. I liked it too damned much that Jack had been back in my life less than twenty-four hours and was already asking over my dream.

I tried to dismiss it with a shrug. “Sooner or later it’ll happen.”

“How close are you?”

“The dip in the economy helps, but I’m not buying a welcome mat anytime soon.” So he wasn’t ready to let the conversation go; not a problem. After all, I wasn’t the only one with a dream. As much pride as Jack took in fighting fires, his true career goal was to own a successful classic car restoration garage. “What about you?”

“Someday.” He looked like he wanted to say more but then glanced over at the table I’d just left behind and frowned. “Do you always let guys grab your ass at work?”

A warning sounded in my head louder than the dinging of the slot machines coming in from the casino’s main gaming floor.

Why the hell was Jack acting possessive?

He understood no-strings sex as much as I did. At twenty-eight, he’d yet to have a real relationship and had no desire to do so as long as he was a firefighter. Those were the reasons I’d known it was safe to try for sexual fringe benefits while renewing our friendship. If he’d changed course on me, was even now thinking of ways to get into my heart beyond friendship, I was going to have to kick his ass.

I gave another shrug. “He brushed my butt and I gave him a dirty look for it. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I just don’t like the thought of you being taken advantage of.”

My insides tightened. I believed he didn’t want to see me taken advantage of, but the “nothing” part of the equation was a bold-faced lie. Survival instincts had me jutting my hip out. “Are we okay?”

Jack’s gaze narrowed—yet another testament to how well he knew me, that with just a little hip action he could tell I wasn’t happy. “We’re fine.”

“Then it won’t hurt your feelings when I tell you I don’t want you here.”

He smirked as he stood. “You are still ticked.”

“No. I’m on the clock. Standing around shooting the shit with you isn’t exactly raking in the dough.” I uncocked my hip and grabbed the nearly empty glass from the table in front of him—obviously he’d been drinking soda because he never touched alcohol before dinner. “See you later, Jack.”

His fingers settled on my arm, staying me when I would have turned and run away like the chickenshit his uncharacteristic behavior had me feeling like. His smirk was gone, replaced with a sensual tilt to his mouth that gave a glimpse of his tongue and immediately had my thong damp all over again. “When later?”

I’d meant the words as a figure of speech, and I should have told him so. But I couldn’t stop thinking about those three incredible orgasms he’d given me last night or how amazingly good it had felt to fall asleep in his arms, and so I proved I was one card shy of a full deck by saying, “I’m working doubles the next two days—”

“In other words, you’ll be too tired for sex.”

“In other words, you’d best plan a full-body massage into your foreplay. I get off at seven.”

His mouth curved fully, into the cockiest grin I’d ever seen him wear. “And eight, nine, ten and eleven.”

I liked my bad boys, and I liked his arrogance so much that if it wasn’t for the tray of drinks and the glass shower that would ensue if I dropped it, I probably would have said to hell with my job and slid onto his cock there and then.

Since I did have that tray and I really needed this job, I somehow managed to stand my ground. “If you plan to use me that much, you’d best add a bottle of gin and an extra-large jar of olives to the schedule.”