Page 10 of Snake Eyes (Out of His League #2)

I’d expected twenty customers, tops, but I’d lost count after the fortieth person had passed through Snake Eyes’ doors—and when I was cashing out, I could feel my eyes getting wider and wider.

With tips, I’d made just over a grand tonight.

I’d run myself ragged doing the work of three people, even with Garrett’s help, but—including the $900 I already had—I was also perilously close to being able to pay for the $2,500 of work Kurt was doing on my car. Perilously close to being able to go home .

So why did that thought leave me hollow inside?

Leaning against the bar, I begin to sing beneath my breath, absent-mindedly disappearing into the lyrics.

It’s one of my current favorites in my ever-rotating playlist: a cover of “Lovely” by Daisy Grey.

My focus vanishes into the middle distance and lands in my memories of Calgary.

Of growing up opposite the house my best friend, Nicole, lived in.

Of the two of us annoying the living shit out of my older brother, Ryan.

Cheering on the chuckwagons during the Stampede.

Sledding down the park behind our house with the rest of the kids in our neighborhood.

Getting my first job at a bar within shouting distance of Calgary Tower.

Calgary had been home until I moved to Long Lake after college. I hadn’t moved there to be with Joey, exactly. My mom had grown up in the area, and I’d wanted to see some of the places she remembered from her childhood. I’d been comfortable there, but I’d never laid down roots.

The same could be said about my relationship with Joey.

It was comfortable—until it wasn’t. Did I ever truly love him? Did he ever truly love me? Perhaps in the first year, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I hadn’t loved him for a long time—and I’ve been ready to move on for such a long time.

The more I think about it, the more thankful I am for that—because of how I feel about Garrett.

“Don’t stop singing,” a familiar voice purrs in my ear, sparking a delicious ache deep inside me. The warmth of his body reaches me a moment later, the wide planes of his chest nestled against my back. A shudder tumbles down my spine as his lips brush my neck .

I arch my ass against him, purposefully teasing. “It’s the end of the song.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, taking on a breathless edge—and who could blame me?

“I’ve been waiting all evening for your answer, Charlie.” His hands come to rest on either side of me, his sleeves rolled up to expose those bewitching tattooed forearms. “How are you feeling about having company tonight? Put me out of my misery.”

Finally, I turn around, feasting on the sight of him.

He hasn’t been the only one waiting. His expression burns with a quiet intensity, those dark, predatory eyes following my every move.

His rifle is slung over one shoulder, as always; several customers have mentioned bear sightings over the last couple weeks, and I’m glad Garrett is prepared.

I place my palm flat against his chest, feeling the strength beneath the fabric. I’m growing addicted to that look in his eyes. “I feel like if you don’t stop being a gentleman, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Triumph flares in his expression, but he moves so quickly I almost miss it—then he’s on me.

Garrett’s lips collide with mine, his earlier patience shattering before my eyes.

I part for him, the breath in my lungs exiting on a desperate sigh as he pushes me back against the bar with his hips.

A needy thrum pulses through me as I feel his hard length straining through his jeans, straining for me .

I throw my arm around his neck, clamoring to be closer to him, to reduce the space between us to nothing. Lust has never felt like this before: not with Joey, not with anyone . The sublime caresses of Garrett’s lips unlock a part of me I didn’t know existed—and I’m desperate to find out more .

With a teasing roll of his hips, Garrett angles my head and deepens the kiss.

His tongue glides against mine in incendiary strokes, until I’m ready to burst into flames.

I’m a hair’s breadth from begging for his touch, but then it’s there, tracing the soft lines of my curves as I moan my encouragement.

I let out a breathy gasp as he pushes me up against the bar, pulling my sweater over my head.

I arch as he rids me of my bra, possessively edging around my heavy breasts.

I can’t hold back my cry as he reaches my achingly tight nipple.

That first touch sends a fiery rush of arousal between my legs, rippling through my body.

The edge of Garrett’s lips curl as a look of masculine arrogance takes hold. His focus never leaves me, devouring my gasps and sighs as he plucks and strokes my hypersensitive breasts, watching me fall apart in front of him.

“I could do this all night,” he murmurs, pinching the very tips at the same time, leaving me slumped backward over the bar, melting into the pleasure. My clit flutters and pulses as he does it again, every nerve in my body screaming for release.

I reach for him, so desperate in my need to undo his shirt buttons, I end up ripping the first one off altogether. Garrett doesn’t seem to mind, shouldering off his rifle and putting it safely out of reach.

I move to his black leather belt—with the Locke logo embossed front and center—but his hand stills my own. “I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, his kiss descending from my collarbone to my breasts.

“Oh.” I can’t deny the fact that I’m disappointed, but the feeling is short-lived given his direction. I writhe as he catches one of my nipples between his lips and the other between his thumb and forefinger, teasing and pulling until I’m once more a needy wreck.

I’m so lost to pleasure that I don’t immediately notice he’s unzipped my skirt.

“Holy fuck, Charlie.” Garrett slides his hands up the skin of my outer thigh, and it’s at that moment that I realize I’m not wearing some sexy, lacy number that rides up between my ass cheeks.

I’m wearing a pair of gray cotton boy shorts that are past their prime.

“In my defense,” I begin hesitantly, fervently hoping these aren’t the pair with the hole in the ass. “I do have sexier panties than these.”

He presses his thumb against my core, slowly stroking as he glances down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “There is nothing sexier than seeing how soaked your panties are right now.”

His touch rips a pleasure-filled gasp from my throat, skating perilously close to my clit. “Can you see it through the fabric?”

Garrett nods slowly, pulling another breath from me as he kneels at my feet. “It almost makes me not want to take them off, just to see how wet I can make you.”

I arch my brow. “I think you should explore the other option before making a decision.”

He makes a low noise of amusement—before hooking his fingers into my panties. His eyes go molten as he peels the fabric away from my skin. “Sweet fuckin’ Jesus,” he mutters, letting gravity pull my panties to the floor.

With my thighs pressed together, I don’t realize just how much of my pussy is visible, but I choke out a shocked sound as he runs a taunting thumb along my delicate folds .

“You have no idea how fucking breathtaking you look like this. Naked, thighs pressed together, with just the barest hint of your pussy peeking through.”

I preen under his praise, biting my lip as I let him guide one of my thighs onto his shoulder.

His eyes devour the sight of me, his thumbs dipping between my labia to spread me wide.

When I was in my late teens, I used to worry about the size of them; my pussy never looked the way the ones in porn did.

It isn’t… neat or symmetrical or tidy. My inner labia doesn’t fit nicely inside my outer labia, and more than once I didn’t go home with a guy purely because I was worried about his reaction.

Now I know better. Vulvas come in all shapes and sizes, and that any guy who reacts negatively to my pussy doesn’t deserve to be intimate with me.

And thank god I do know better because if I’d let self-consciousness cheat me out of intimacy with Garrett, I would never have gotten to witness the untamed savagery that overcomes his expression.

My heart stills as Garrett lowers his head.

I whimper as he drags his tongue over my core.

I’m almost entirely nude while he’s practically fully dressed.

I can’t stop watching as he sucks my labia into his mouth, playing with my arousal as he centers in on my clit.

“Goddammit, Garrett,” I moan, shifting my hips at the wild need coursing through me, searching for the path to release.

“I have wanted this since the first fuckin’ night you arrived, do you know that?” he asks, his lips brushing against my delicate skin. He brings his hand up to my entrance, easing a finger inside.

I open my mouth to answer him, but apparently the question is rhetorical because in the same instant Garrett fastens his mouth around my clit and sucks .

My undignified cry fills the bar, my legs closing around his head automatically.

He snarls out his appreciation, his eyes gleaming possessively as he does it again and again—and again .

At any other time, I would be blushing at the shamelessly slick noises we’re making, but right now I couldn’t care less.

A gasp pushes from my lungs as I feel Garrett’s fingers stretching me, the pads of his fingers brushing up against the velvety flesh inside. His touch is a steady rhythm, curling as he sucks my aching clit into his mouth.

I pant and gasp as my arousal begins to consume me from the inside out, rolling through my veins like an unstoppable force. “Garrett!” I warn him, my fingers coiling in his hair.

He purrs around my clit, sucking hard .

My orgasm slams into me like a lightning strike, taking possession of every muscle in my body.

It sears my very soul, until I’m lost in a sea of ecstasy so dazzling it almost blinds me.

My spine bows involuntarily, and there’s nothing I can do except fall apart in Garrett’s arms and hope he holds me together.

But then is there any real possibility he won’t?

When the storm wanes and my body returns to me, my first instinct is to reach for him.

“Garrett,” I murmur. There’s a heat spreading in my chest as he pulls me into his arms, but it’s nothing to do with my orgasm. His gaze locks with mine—not the impenetrable bronze he has with everyone else, but the rich chocolate he reserves just for me, and I nearly melt.

He leans in, brushing his nose against mine. A tender gesture that says more than words ever could.

I press my lips against his, a sweet, soft touch. “Take me home.”