I motioned for one last shot and then closed out my tab, ready to find somewhere more promising, when Smooth’s plain-vanilla fuckboy walked out of the bar—alone.
Huh. That’s an interesting development…
Shoving my wallet in my back pocket, I headed in the direction the guys had disappeared to. It’d only been, what? Five minutes? Definitely less than ten.
I snorted. Called it.
The short hallway seemed to branch off into different rooms—how had I missed this?—but before I had to guess which one they’d gone into, Smooth stepped out of the one on my right.
A quick once-over told me whatever had happened had indeed been unimpressive. Barely a hair mussed, his stunning face relaxed with no hint of excitement in his cheeks.
“Aww, leaving so soon?”
At the sound of my voice, Smooth raised his head and his eyes found mine, and I wasn’t shocked in the least to see them filled with frustration instead of desire—satisfied or otherwise.
“You know, I’m all for a quick fuck, but that would’ve had to have set records. Lemme guess, he couldn’t get it up?”
When a dangerous gleam entered Smooth’s eyes, my lips twitched. There was nothing I liked more than a little danger to ramp up the adrenaline, and this guy seemed to have a knack for making my pulse go from zero to a hundred in mere seconds.
Oh, he also had a knack for making me shoot my mouth off.
“Ahh, that’s not it? So maybe it was you who couldn’t get it up.” As the word up left my tongue, Smooth took several steps forward until I was forced to back up, and when my ass met the solid wall behind me, I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips. Seemed I’d struck a nerve.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
I let my eyes rove over the stunning face now only inches from my own, and took in the sinful body I wanted pressed up against me, then brought my eyes back to his. “Not when I see something I want.”
Smooth placed a hand up against the wall by my head, his eyes now so dark they were almost black. The danger from seconds ago was still there, but it was now coupled with the desire that had been missing.
“And you don’t care if that something has made it clear he’s not interested?”
“Not always. Sometimes that makes it even more fun.”
“Fun, huh?”
“Well, I guarantee you wouldn’t be walking out in less than five minutes. Aaand”—I glanced down between our bodies—“it’s pretty obvious you wouldn’t have a problem getting it up.”
“That was never a problem to begin with.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then what was?” I knew the answer to that question already. You took the wrong fucking guy out back. But whether Smooth here would admit it was left to be seen.
“A pair of whiskey-colored eyes, tanned skin, and a mouth I really want to shut up but somehow know I shouldn’t.”
Well, shit, that sounded promising—and surprising, considering I hadn’t expected a truthful answer. I reached for the belt loops of Smooth’s jeans and tugged him in, closing the final distance between us. I needed to feel that rock-hard body against mine, and when he thrust his hips forward, I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips. His erection was hard and thick against mine, and I pushed my hips up against his to feel the friction again.
“This is what you want?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
“Feels like it’s what we both want.”
“Maybe.” He brushed his thumb over my lips before trailing his fingers down my throat and over my shirt. I felt him trace the outline of the dog tags I wore, and then he leaned in so close I closed my eyes, expecting his mouth to take mine. Instead, he said, “But I know your kind, and you’re the kind of trouble I can’t afford.”
Then Smooth, or whatever his name was, dropped his hand and stepped back, giving me one final look before turning for the door.
“So that’s it?” I pushed off the wall. “I don’t even get a name?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What do you need my name for?”
With a smirk playing on my lips, I decided to give him one last memory to think about. “So I know what to call out when I get myself off later.”
Surprise lit his face before the hunger settled in, and he dropped his head and chuckled. Then he started to push the door open, paused, and when he looked back my way, he said, “Grant. That’s the name you can use later.”
3 Mateo Morgan
Call Sign: SOLO
“SOLO, MY MAN.” A hand slapped down on my shoulder as I opened the locker I’d been assigned, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Gucci a.k.a. Pete Carter, my best friend, with a big, goofy grin on his mug. “Can you believe we’re doin’ this?”