1
Gage
“For God’s sake, what the fuck is Nova doing dancing on the bar?” I ask Rock as we walk into the Midnight Oil Bar. He’s not here for a long time, just for a good time, then he’ll be gone. Rock isn’t one for staying in one place long. Not like I can blame the man. There’s nothing better than riding your bike with no destination in mind.
“I take it she’s yours.” I hear the mirth in his tone. Nova thinks she’s not mine, but she is, and everyone knows it. Except her. That girl is more of a hellion than my three nieces, and they’re all under the age of eight. How my sister does it, especially with her husband still stationed overseas, I have no clue.
“Yeah, she’s fucking mine,” I grunt, my eyes never leaving Nova. Her short but lithe body is a foot shorter than my six-foot two stature.
“No shit.” Rock shakes his head, ambling to the bar at the corner, leaving me a spot near where Nova is shaking her ass all over the place. Fucking hell. That dark hair of hers is hanging loosely down to her lower back, braids woven throughout it. Those deep blue eyes are lined thickly with eyeliner and mascara, but the rest of her face is makeup free, showing off the freckles that are gathered along her nose, spreading outward to her cheeks.
I take my seat, her long legs right in front of me. My hands slide up, wrapping my hands around her ankles, gliding up. She still doesn’t stop moving. Nope, not this wild one. Nova lowers her body, sitting on her heels, trapping my hands beneath her thighs.
“No touching the staff, Gage.” Damn, her voice sounds soft and smokey, like she had a few drags of the pack of cigarettes I keep in the front of my shirt pocket.
“It’s not a strip club, Nova. And don’t think just because you haven’t figured your shit out, that you’re not mine.” Even with the tight fit, I still move my hands away, grab her by that perfect peach of an ass, and pull her into my lap.
“No way, Gage. The moment there’s a you and me, I know what will happen. There’ll be no job for me here, and there’s no way I’ll ever depend on any man. My daddy didn’t raise an idiot.” That doesn’t stop her from grinding down on my lap, or her hands from fisting in my hair.
“You dance again, you dance for me, at my place or in my room at the clubhouse. You want to keep your job, you keep it. Not gonna have my woman dancing on bar tops, though, not with an ass like yours. It sends the wrong message, and I’ll be damned if I come here and find some old fuck eyeing you like you’re his next meal.” The cut-off shorts she’s wearing are doing nothing to stop my hands from massaging the cheeks of her ass while she still uses her body to rub against mine.
“We’ll just see about that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us have to work. We can’t all ride on a bike and make money that way.” I move my hands reluctantly even though what I’d really like is to let her ride my cock until she comes.
“Yeah, star, we’ll see about that. You and I both know it’ll happen sooner than later.” Nova rolls her eyes, climbing off my lap. I squeeze her hip, holding her steady as she gets to her feet. She changes the subject, “You want your usual? And what about him?”
“Yeah, Coors for me. Rock?”
“Same,” he states and then returns this focus to his phone, ignoring us again.
“I’ll be right back with those.” I watch her leave, her tank top showing more skin than not, molded to her. Emblazoned on the back is the name of the bar. A bar where she knows damn well the only reason she has this job is because of me. That little hell raiser is going to be fun to tame.
2
Nova
Gage Bennett. That man… Tall, tattooed, and drop-dead freaking gorgeous. He’s also been chasing me for what seems like ever. It probably doesn’t help that he’s fourteen years older and I was jailbait up until two years ago. Well, in his eyes. Now that I’m twenty-three, and he had me waiting for years before, I think it’s only smart of me to make him work for it.
I clocked him the minute he pulled into the bar’s parking lot. The windows are darkened from the outside, but we can see out. That’s why I got on the bar top and shimmied my ass around. My eyes may have been closed at first, but I felt his presence the moment he walked in—dark hair that’s shaved on the sides and longer on the top, green eyes that darken when my gaze meets his, skin that looks like a deep tan but is his natural olive complexion. The white shirt under his black cut, jeans molded to his long body. Gage is the whole package, and I know exactly what he’s packing, well, maybe not in the biblical term, but I’ve felt his bulge more than a time or two. I grab two bottles of beer, uncap them, and slide them across the bar, not starting another conversation with Gage. If I do, I’ll never get any work done, and just because it’s slow right now, that doesn’t mean it won’t get busy, which means I need to stock the coolers and clean up after the customers who left. So, I float around the bar, feeling his eyes on me the entire time, and try to come up with more than one reason as to why I’ve been so adamantly refusing Gage and his advances.