Getting Off. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, СКАЧАТЬ