“Everything about Gallo sucks,” he replies, drawing us to a halt in front of a door with a huge sign over the top that reads BAR, the sound of muffled music vibrating the walls. “He’s sitting in the back corner at the bar.”
“At a bar in a bar,” I say. “Check. Got it again.”
He waves across the street. “I’ll hang out over there somewhere in case you need an escort back, though I find that doubtful.”
He walks aw
ay, crossing the narrow street. I watch him for a few beats, and my unease with him just isn’t going away. Shaking off the thought, I turn to the door and enter the bar, to find a dimly lit room wrapped in brick. On a mission to find Kayden before I chicken out, I weave my way through clusters of tall tables with stools as seats and find him sitting at the bar as expected, with his back to me. I pause and inhale for courage, not sure how he’ll react to me showing up here. I take a step forward but halt as I have the uncomfortable realization that the gorgeous, big-breasted brunette bartender is not only in deep conversation with Kayden, she’s leaning over the counter, and giving him a healthy view of her cleavage.
My stomach knots with the certainty that she is his distraction from me, not a bottle of tequila, and it hurts, when it shouldn’t. We had sex. Just sex. That does not spell exclusivity or commitment. I’m about to turn away when the big-breasted bartender looks up, and for some reason her gaze lands on me. Adrenaline surges through me and I turn to flee, only to have a man step in front of me, momentarily delaying my departure. I cut around him, and manage all of two steps before Kayden grips my arm and whirls me around to face him.
“Let go,” I hiss, shoving against him, my chest burning with emotions, my palm burning where it’s landed on his chest. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He grabs my other arm and pulls me to him. “Ella. Stop.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your . . . whatever that was.”
“It wasn’t what you thought. You’re hugely overreacting.”
“You’re right, and that only makes me angrier.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means I shouldn’t let you get to me, but you’re here with some big-breasted bartender, avoiding me, and I’ll just state the obvious. It upsets me.” I jerk against him. “Let go.”
“I’m not letting go. I told you that.”
“You don’t get to make that decision. I do. I do, Kayden.”
His arm circles my waist, bringing my hip to his, and he starts walking, forcing me to follow or make a scene we both know I don’t dare. My mind is plotting an escape, but there isn’t one. Far too quickly, we’ve traveled a short hallway, and he’s already opening a door and entering some room while taking me with him. “Rosa owns the bar,” he announces, pressing me against the desk and pinning me with his big body, his hips aligned with mine, his hands on the surface behind me.
“And you want to fuck her,” I say, oh so aware of his hard thighs against mine.
“She’s Adriel’s on-again, off-again girlfriend.”
“And you want to fuck her.”
“Holy hell. No, Ella, I do not want to fuck her.”
“You’re here, staring at her cleavage rather than being with me, and you smell like tequila. I guess that’s better than smelling like her.”
“That woman always has cleavage. I don’t even see it anymore.”
“You were here and not—”
“I know. I know.” His hands come down on my arms. “I wanted to be with you.”
“Then why weren’t you?”
“Because ‘this’—us—wasn’t supposed to happen.” Now he sounds angry.
“I can leave. Just let me borrow some money.”
He scrubs his jaw, looking tormented as he settles his hand back on the desk. “I don’t want you to leave any more than I want to be in this shitty bar right now.”
“But you are.”
“Because I don’t know how to protect you and be with you, but I also don’t know how to let go of you and trust you’ll be safe. And the honest fucking truth is I don’t want to let you go.”