ABBY GREEN - Her Last Wild Ride

Liar .

I turned around and picked up the jar of tips, holding it out to him. “Caitlin won’t be back for two weeks. Thanks for tonight. You should take these and I’ll settle up with you for the shift if you give me your bank details. I’ll do a transfer.”

I was avoiding his eye but had to look up when he didn’t take the jar. His arms were crossed, muscles bulging and seriously distracting. Now he sounded disgusted when he said, “I’m not taking your tips and I don’t want payment.”

More than exasperated at how he’d exposed all of my lofty resolutions for being weak at the seams, I said, “Well, what do you want then?”

He just looked at me for a long moment and then unfolded his arms and came close, putting two hands on the back bar either side of me. I clutched the jar to me like a shield. My pussy tightened. Just like that.

“You, Ashling. I want you and I wanted you the moment I saw you. I wanted you so bad I couldn’t even remember why I’d come in last night.”

* * *

The palpable relief Johnny felt to know that he had a reprieve from seeing Caitlin for another couple of weeks still lingered, even as he called himself a fucking coward for it.

But, if that was a license to push the past aside for a moment, he did. He kicked it right over the edge of a cliff to deal with later.

Because he felt wild and desperate as he looked down into Ashling’s upturned face. And right now he was all about the present and those mesmerizing blue eyes. For a second they looked hot enough to burn him alive. The pink tip of her tongue came out as if to moisten her lips, and immediately he was rewarded with an image of her on her knees, that pink tongue exploring him, slipping along the slit at the head of his dick, tasting his pre-come.

He almost groaned and was about to press closer when she scooted out from under his arms and put the jar down. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly across her chest. It pushed up the enticing swells of her modest but plump cleavage. Not helping. Ice in her eyes now. Not heat. Not helping either.

“Yeah? Well, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

Johnny curbed the urge to point out that it hadn’t looked like that a few moments ago when she’d been on the other side of the bar and looking as if she was about to climb over it to get to him. He’d had to bloody focus enough to remember why he was here. Again.

I’m not interested . The words hung between them, and something dark pierced him. “Are you going out with someone?”

Ashling’s expression became hard. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Tightness eased inside Johnny, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t an angel by any means, but he’d never felt as if he couldn’t walk away if a woman was taken—drawing the line at seducing attached lovers. Which was about as noble as he got.

Except here, now, with Ashling, he wasn’t so sure he would have found it so easy. And that had never happened before.

Johnny’s voice lowered. It was very much game on now. “I’d say it’s my business when I know you want me as much as I want you.”

Her eyes flashed momentarily, as if with panic, but then she hitched her chin up belligerently. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘I’m just not that into you’?”

Man, she was cute. Johnny’s libido surged. He stepped closer and saw how the pulse at the base of her neck jumped. She was into him, all right.

“Where I come from,” he drawled, “that’s called fighting talk. And if it eases your mind any, I’m not with anyone either.”

He crossed his arms and saw the way her eyes dropped for a moment before coming back up. Some of the ice was melting, he could see it. Lust kicked hard in his solar plexus.

Ashling rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Johnny. The fact is that whether you’re single or a cheating bastard, I’ve had my fill. So when I say I’m not interested, I mean it.”

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