I abandoned my liquor hunting and headed over. I’d had no plans to lead her down the dark hallway and dry hump her to an orgasm because, as I told the Woodlands crew earlier, these types of bar hook ups were generally unsatisfactory. I’d thought to escort her back to the bar outside but when she paused and stared at me like she knew me, I felt a jolt. Suddenly I didn’t want to take her outside where there were other people—other men—who would look at her and want her. I’m not sure who turned down the dark hallway first, but it was the right place for me to taste her full lips and grip her long ponytail.

Her lips had felt as soft and suckable as I thought they would be. She tasted tart, as if she’d had a vodka lemon shot. The hot cavern of her mouth made me think of other hot, wet areas on her body and I wanted to explore all of them.

There wasn’t much thought in my head other than how kissing her wouldn’t be enough. At the very least, I needed to get my hand under those shorts or under her shirt. I had to touch more bare skin but her shorts only went up so far and under her shirt there was more damn fabric. I really wanted to rip those shirts up over her head and draw one delicious tit into my mouth.

Before I could get any closer to her, I’d felt a trembling in her legs and her breath had started to come in harsh, jagged pants. She was so turned on by just the kissing, just the press of our bodies together, that she was ready to come right then. And I wasn’t going to stop that. I pressed my hard-on with more force against her cotton-clad pussy and felt her explode.

Feeling her come apart in my arms just from kissing her made me feel like a giant, and it left me with a hard-on the size of California. Had I ever been a fool to say that a bar hookup wasn’t good? Maybe I just hadn’t had the right bar hookup. All my little rules about dating, hook ups, and women were somewhere in a puddle under my feet. There was only one thought in my mind now. I needed to find us some privacy—immediately. Desperate to lay her down on any surface, I pulled away from the wall, holding her against me. Her body was lax in its post orgasmic state. There was a door just to her right.

“Sam,” I whispered as gently as I could, not wanting to disturb her moment but desperate for some relief myself. “That room. Is it private?” Sam turned her head, still resting on my shoulder.

“Yes, storage room.”

I started for the door before she got past the word yes. “I need you bad, Sam. Once we’re inside, I’m going to strip off these shorts and stick my head between your legs and lap up all the juice your body just made for me.” She shuddered and clenched her legs tighter around me. She liked the dirty talk. I’d have to remember that. We got to the door, and I leaned down to open it, not wanting her to let go. “After I’m done eating you out, I’m going to—” I never got the rest of the promise out.

“Hey, Mrs. A.” A voice called from the end of the hall. “Mark’s asking for you.”

Sam jerked upright and pushed away from me. I let her drop to the ground as the words sunk in. Mrs. A as in Mrs. Anderson? I grabbed her left hand and raised it. Sure enough there was a fucking diamond on that hand and it was not a small piece of shit like some of the recruits bought at the local mall. “What the hell is this?” I asked, raising her hand between us. I never, ever cheated. I’d been on the other end of that shitty stick and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Having discovered that I was making out with a married dude’s lady made me sick.

“It’s none of your business.” Her face paled when she saw the ring. Probably afraid that her dirty secret was going to come back to bite her in the ass. She tried to wrench her hand away but I had things to say to her.

“None of my business, my ass.” I got up right into her face. “You better hope your man doesn’t come in here tonight because I will not hesitate to fucking tell him that his woman has absolutely no morals. I do not appreciate being dragged into whatever sordid little thing you’ve got going on with your bar patrons. Next time you feel like cheating on your man, consider taking your ring off first. It’s a dead fucking giveaway.” I flung her hand away as if it was diseased. She might be. My skank of an ex had tried to climb back into my bed with syph between her legs. “Or better yet, just break it off and stop trying to climb every available dick you think might taste good.”

I stomped off before Sam could utter whatever excuses she was ready to vomit out. I was furious at her, but even more pissed off at myself. My dick was still as hard as steel, and it was aching from the lack of attention. It wanted me to run back to her, ignore the ring, and just let myself push inside what was probably a juicy pussy. She’d be a good fuck. Cheaters usually are.

If I’d taken a minute, just one minute, I could’ve easily checked out her ring finger but I was too busy staring at things like her lips and her chest and her ass. I was too busy fantasizing about grabbing that ponytail and wrapping around my hand while she rode me hard. The whole event just reinforced that bar hook ups were a shitty idea. Heck, I don’t think I’d mind sticking my dick in crazy so long as she was up-front and honest, neither of which applied to Sam Anderson.


Samantha

SHOCK HAD ME LEANING AGAINST the wall, weak as a kitten. Shock from having an orgasm brought about by activities I hadn’t done since I was a teenager. Shock at being yelled at for cheating. I’d come into the bar as twenty-two-year-old Sam Anderson, widow, bartender, knitter. Now I didn’t know who I was because I’d just nearly screwed a stranger in the storeroom of my place of employment. The first time I’d had sex with Will, I’d been so nervous because I thought his parents would come busting through the doors of the pool house. And now I was wrapping myself around a guy I’d never met before.

“Mrs A.?” It was Steve again. He was the only one who called me that here. Like Teresa, Steve had gone to school with Will and me and had started calling me Mrs. A in high school. At the time Will and I had thought it was funny. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just fine,” I lied and pushed away from the wall. Smoothing my shorts down and tucking in my shirt, I kept my gaze on the floor, not sure what I’d see in Steve’s eyes.

“That guy causing you problems? He can be gone in a heartbeat.”

“No, we just had a disagreement over…limes.”

“Limes?” Steve asked skeptically.

“Um, right, well, he said I put too many limes in his Corona. He’d only wanted one and I guess I shoved two in there.” I peeked through my eyelashes to see Steve frowning.

“Mark asked me to send you up to the VIP lounge.”

“Thanks.” The second floor held a small VIP lounge that Mark usually worked, ensuring all of Adam's dad's friends were properly served. It meant constant sucking up to old rockers who thought they were still the hottest thing on the billboard charts instead of musicians whose names not one person downstairs other than Adam could name. But I’d rather stroke the ego of these guys for the rest of the night than go downstairs and serve drinks with Gray about ten feet away the whole time. God, maybe I was emotionally fragile.

"Sweetheart, so glad you’re up here taking care of me tonight," one of the regulars called out.

I gave him a wry smile because, for once, I was glad to take care of the older set. I was careful to treat them like they were still young and hot lest I hurt their feelings. "Me too, Ollie. Need me to top off that whiskey?”

"You know it."

What I’d just done in the hallway of Gatsby’s was so incredibly out of character, so incredibly dumb—so incredibly good, dammit. I wanted to sit down by Ollie and cry my eyes out. Mark would certainly think twice, maybe even three times, about allowing me to work here if that happened.

It was like someone else had taken control of my body. I’d never, ever been into public displays of affection and here I was dry humping a stranger. Worse, he was a friend of Adam’s who, for all intents and purposes, was like my boss. Sex wasn’t even that important to me. I didn’t own a vibrator. I rarely ever masturbated. Those urges rarely poked their head into my thought process. Sure, I missed Will and Will’s body, but he’d been gone a lot, and I’d gotten used to being alone even before he’d died. Will had gone to Basic and then off to Alaska for training, and since I hadn’t gone with him, I’d been by myself.

What I needed was a vibrator. It’d just been so long without any sexual release that a guy who wasn’t even my type could get me off. Heck, Eve could’ve gotten me off in the hallway if she’d been rubbing me right. It was just a normal reaction to long dormant feelings, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and continued my internal pep talk. It was normal. I’d never have to see this Gray Phillips from San Diego again if I didn’t want. He was visiting and would be going home after the weekend.

I liked safe and comfortable, not crazy encounters with strangers. New guys and new experiences were all overrated, amazing orgasm aside. I’m sure I could give that to myself. I’d try it tonight in fact. Right when I got home, I’d head for the shower and use the old variable water spray. Upstairs in the tiny VIP lounge, I wrapped myself in the memory of Will and my old friend grief, because even though its heavy weight made it hard to get out of bed in the morning and tried to smother me with memories at night, I had learned how to handle it. Working long hours at the bar on the weekends helped, and I hoped spending every waking minute studying once school started in the fall would have the same numbing effect. Either that or I was going to have to medicate myself with Vicodin and Xanax cocktails like Will's mom. We'd be a pair. But as awful as the grief was, at least I knew how to deal with it. The awkward feelings of attraction toward someone else were strange and unfamiliar and kind of terrifying and I just didn’t need that in my life.

CHAPTER FOUR

Gray

I WAS STILL STEAMED WHEN I made it back to the table. The band hadn’t reappeared, and all the girls had left. Either dancing to some ABBA shit or going to the bathroom, I guessed.

“What’s up, hoss?” Noah asked, clearly seeing I was pissed off.

“Nothing a little liquor won’t cure.” I picked up a new bottle of beer and drained half of it before setting it down.

“Someone call you a boot?” Bo wondered. Boot was what we called new Marines or stupid Marines, which were often the same thing.

"I wish.” I tried to smile and joke back so I didn’t ruin the evening with a shitty attitude. “I’m not even wearing any gear from the Corps.”

"Another reason to get out, buddy. You can stop wearing clothes issued by Uncle Sam."

"That's not even in the top ten reasons why not to re-enlist."

"Glad to know you're making a list." Bo clinked his bottle against mine.

"The list to get out is always longer than the one to stay in."

"Sounds like you already made up your mind."

I sucked down my bottle. "Who knows? Maybe."

"Do you even need this vacation?”

"Even if I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t say. Who's going to turn down forty-five days of consecutive leave?"

Bo laughed as I’d intended. With his attention diverted, I gave myself a mental shake. So I kissed a married woman. It’s not like I knew that going in. Otherwise, it would’ve never happened. I wasn’t going to allow one cheating woman to ruin my time here.

“Get out then. Come here to Central with us. It’ll be like old times.”

"Not everyone has a trust fund to fall back on."

Bo smirked. "Don't try that with me, son of a congressman. You aren't hurting."

"What's this?" AnnMarie and the rest of the girls had returned. By the looks of their freshly applied makeup, bathroom had been the right call. I tried to warn Bo to keep his mouth shut, but he'd already started spilling it all out.

"Gray's dad is the Honorable Phillips from the—what district is it?"

"Fifth," Noah offered. I closed my eyes in resignation. So much for trying to be anonymous. Whatever advantage I'd been trying to achieve through being in entirely different surroundings where no one knew me was lost, but I’d never told Bo and Noah I wanted anonymity so that was on me. I should have went white water rafting in Colorado for a month with a bunch of strangers. I should've packed less gear. I should've avoided that last conversation with my dad. I should’ve turned away from Sam Anderson’s doe eyes. Lots of should haves.