Promise Not To Fall Page 6

  “I told you… eighteen.”

  Jake’s eyebrows lift, seeming to consider my comment. A smile curves his lips as his eyes warm. “Well, I’m flattered.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. How old?”

  He fights off a smile as he whispers, “Twenty-four.”

  “Wow.” My cheeks flush. “I’m flirting with a baby.”

  “Oh, don’t be mean.” A gruff laugh comes out of him, his eyes sliding over my face. “I’m still fully capable of showing women a good time.”

  “I bet you are, Island Boy.”

  A couple at a table on the deck hollers for Jake, seeming to need him to solve an argument. He walks up to them, so I turn slightly on the barstool and watch their interaction. Jake takes a seat next to the woman, who appears to be in her late forties, then drapes his arm over her shoulders. He has excellent customer service skills. I noticed it before when he would serve the patrons at the bar, including me. He leans in, as if to offer his sole attention to them, giving them the attention they deserve.

  The group at the table talk for a while—old friends, maybe—before Jake returns.

  “Regulars?” I ask, curious.

  He nods, never divulging too much, and turns the conversation on me once again. “What do you do for work?”

  “I’m a personal assistant.”

  “For who?”

  “Athletes, actors, singers… whoever needs me.”

  He bites back a smile, turning the conversation dirty. “Is that so?”

  “Not like that,” I have to say when his smile covers his entire face. I’m sure he’s imagining I’m some “special” kind of personal assistant. Like a happy-ending personal assistant. And though there have been times where my job has led to sleeping with clients, it isn’t always like that.

  “If you say so. I bet you’re good,” he adds, low and husky with a sweet edge to his voice. “How many people do you do that for?”

  “Only one right now, but he has three other assistants too. So in a way, I’m jobless at the moment.” I pause and take a small drink of my horrible whiskey and 7-up. “Most of the time I just have one, but once I had three at the same time for a while.”

  “Doesn’t that get confusing?”

  “I’m good at what I do.” My eyes find his. “Do you get confused when the bar’s full?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there you go. Besides”—I wave my hand around—“I’m organized and know my limits.”

  Jake snorts, like he’s thinking of something dirty.

  “I hate this one client,” I groan, going into the aspects of my job I hate so I can avoid the lure his voice is having on me. Even though I know where this is going, the thought frightens me a little. So I keep talking. “He’s so demanding and expects me to just cater to everything he needs.” I let my voice soften to a whisper, then give him a blank stare. “I think he thinks I’m his bitch.”

  Jake laughs and leans toward me. “If you don’t like someone, it’s because subconsciously they remind you of something you don’t like about yourself.”

  I roll my eyes. “Poetic, Island Boy.”

  He reaches around the bar, shuffling bottles away and bringing others forward. Maybe this is his nightly routine. I’m not sure, or he’s nervous? Nah, I doubt he’s ever nervous. “So, if you’re so good at your job, why can’t you make a relationship work?”

  My answer is cold and sarcastic. “Hell if I know.”

  His eyes slowly drink me in, drifting over my face and lingering on my chest. “You seem cool.”

  “Well, thanks. But I’m also on vacation and drinking.” I raise my glass. “You don’t want to know the real stressed-out me.”

  “Actually,” his voice is calm and relaxing, everything this bar is, “my dad always says you can tell a person’s true personality when they’re drinking.”

  “I think I like your dad.”

  I watch Jake make another drink for a couple at a table near the door. I find myself staring at his hands. They’re so strong and nice, and I really want them wrapped in my hair. He looks like he might be good at pulling hair or, even better, biting. I love it when a man isn’t afraid to sink his teeth in. Not too much. I’m not trying to re-enact some kind of vampire fantasy, but a little pain with the pleasure is always welcome.

  “Have you ever bit a woman? Like for pleasure reasons?” I ask with my straw in my mouth. He should really cut me off by this point. I’m totally tossed. He knows it. Look at the grin. He fucking knows. “I once fucked this guy who bit my collarbone so hard it looked like a shark attack.” Waving my hands around, I nearly knock my drink over.

  Jake catches the glass before it falls, his eyes shining with amusement. “Easy there, City Girl.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  His face breaks into that beautiful smile again. “What?”

  “Shark bite. Like, what was he doing? It looked awful the next day.”

  Jake smiles ruefully, a contemplative expression on his face as he runs his hand down his jaw. He glances at my chest again and then back at my eyes. “Ah, well”—he winks—“that’s easy to do when you’re caught up in the moment I suppose.”

  I think, and I can’t be sure given the lack of sobriety, I’m detecting more attraction from him than he’s letting on.

  Oh, me like him. Me likey him a lot.

  But I also feel like if I could read Jake’s mind right now, it would say something similar to: This chick is out of her fucking mind. Batshit. Morbid. Controlling. Crazy.

  Or maybe he isn’t thinking any of that.

  We get to talking about family. I tell him I’m an only child, and he says that makes a lot of sense. He thinks I would have killed a sibling in their sleep. I flip him off.

  A legitimate smile curves his lips again. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts and leans into the counter, his eyes studying mine. “What about your parents? They around? Dad?”

  I fight off a growl that wants to emit from deep within a part of me that holds grudges. “Had one at one time. Haven’t seen him since I was ten.”

  “Shitty. His loss.” He seems sincere. “Mom?”

  My response is curt, more so than I intend it to be, but there’s a lot about my mom that still makes me sad. “She… died two years ago.”

  His eyes snap to mine, worry digging into the crease of his brow. “Shit… I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. There’s no sense in telling him that I hadn’t seen her in nearly a year before that, and we lived in the same city. Caught up in making a life better than the one she had, I hadn’t spoken to her in the three months before she died. Worst of all, I was stuck in the traffic jam her death caused.

  Jake doesn’t need to know that. None of it. Sometimes I think it’s better not to ask and, even more so, not to divulge information that’s not needed. When you’ve had too much to drink, none of that matters, but this, my mom drama, it’s off limits.

  “So what’s your story, then? How did all this come about?” I motion around to the bar. I think I already asked this, but it doesn’t explain why he works here.

  “Dad owns the bar, and I just sort of grew up here. Seemed only natural to work here.”

  “I see.” I give a nod and then reach for my napkin to wipe away the condensation that’s formed around the glass.

  Jake notices and laughs at my habit. “Do you need a new napkin?”

  “No. This one’s fine.”

  “But it’s pretty wet. You sure?”

  I can’t help myself. “You’re that guy, huh?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that guy.” He tips his head to the side, like he’s playing it off. “But—” He pauses and leans in, his breath blowing over my face. “—I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

  Holy shit. I have to take a breath—a deep one to keep from sighing and batting my eyelashes at him. “Are you a male prostitute?” I can’t believe I just asked that.

  That earns me a laugh a
s he straightens his posture. “No.”

  “Good. I’ve already been offered drugs. I’m assuming prostitution is illegal too?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  Something tells me maybe I should stop talking for fear that I’m going to get an answer I don’t want. Like that he’s Mormon and can’t have sex until he’s married. But it isn’t enough to actually stop me from talking. “Sounds like you have it all figured out, don’t you?”

  A satisfied smile lights his face. “Uh-huh.”

  “I bet you have a dirty mouth too?”

  By the look on his face, it’s fairly obvious he’s about to say something dirty. “Sweetheart, you’d be surprised what this mouth can get me and what it can do for you.” And then he purposely sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

  “Wow.” I throw my head back. “You’re so fucking arrogant.”

  “Arrogance is a blessing.”

  “How so?”

  “No matter what you say—” He pauses and leans in a few inches to put some meaning behind his words. “—you want a man with confidence. Every woman does. You don’t want the guy with a shaky hand as he’s slipping your panties off. You want him with sure, steady movements and tellin’ you how it’s gonna go, don’t you, City Girl?”

  He has every woman everywhere pegged, doesn’t he?

  A raucous burst of laughter brings me out of my Island Boy trance.

  I bring the glass to my lips, finishing my drink, and watch a group of intoxicated girls grind on each other. Next to them, a group of men watch, quite frankly drooling.

  I turn back to Island Boy. “A girl really did a shot off a guy’s dick?”

  Jake grins and holds up the bottle of tequila in one hand, the other one undoing his belt buckle. “Wanna try?”

  Holy shit. Yes!

  “Oh, uh.” I swallow, and I think he senses maybe I’m either drunk enough to try, and drunk enough not to… but it does sound appealing to me. I wouldn’t mind putting my mouth on him for sure, the thought tempting, even if it’s just a fantasy playing out in my head.

  Before I have a lot of time to think about it, Jake looks around the bar. It’s empty for the most part, so he pats the bar. “Hop up here, City Girl.”

  My eyes bug out, and I fidget with the straps of my sundress slipping off my shoulders. “On the bar?”

  He raises an eyebrow, setting the bottle of tequila on the bar and then placing two limes and salt beside it. “Yeah, what the fuck does ‘hop up here’ mean in city terms?”

  A shot on the bar? Or is he gonna do one off me? I’m so confused but decide the Kendall in the Bahamas would totally do this. “All right, let’s do it.” I give a nod, as if to prepare myself.

  “Off my dick?” You can’t miss the eagerness in his voice. His belt buckle is still undone.

  I stare at the belt. “Uh, no. Something else.”

  “All right.” Disappointment settles in his eyes. “Get up here.”

  I do. Ever climb on a bar in a dress? It’s impossible not to give a show. I think that was part of Jakes master plan. Positioning myself as ladylike as I can, I shift my body so my legs are hanging off the bar on his side. I jump slightly when his hands touch my exposed knees, pulling them apart. He then grabs the salt shaker and slides between my legs, putting his hands on my thighs again.

  Our eyes catch and hold. His so bright and dreamy, mine, half closed. “Ready?”

  I nod. I don’t think I can form words at the moment, let alone push them through my lips.

  With a firm grip, he drags me forward and stands so his chest is in line with mine, so close I can finally smell him. Along with the dryer-sheet smell, there’s summer, warm sand, rum, and cologne. I can’t place the scent of his cologne, but I know it.

  His hands slip off my thighs, and then he leans back far enough that he can raise his hands to pull his T-shirt over his shoulders. And Island Boy is now shirtless. You are welcome, friends.

  Goddamn, he’s so muscular and tan. I bet he works out at one of those outdoor gyms and eats healthy. Dark markings scatter his chest and arms with what appears to be about twenty or thirty different tattoos. I don’t have a single tattoo, and the thought of getting one terrifies me. But part of me is really excited because now I know he doesn’t have a monkey asshole on his stomach. I can work with this canvas. I want to lick him. All over.

  I sneak a peek at his body again. Who am I kidding. I can’t avert my eyes to save my life. The place could be on fire and I wouldn’t notice.

  We stare at each other for a moment while Zac Brown Band bellows through the bar. How fitting.

  He hands me a shot of tequila and leans in with his hands on the bar on either side of my hips. “You first.”

  I’m a pussy with no sense of adventure. I do the fucking shot off his neck when my mind screams “Dick Shot!” I can’t bring myself to do it. Licking his soft, but rough skin, I take my shot and then suck on the lime in my hand. Jake says nothing in the process and doesn’t show much of a reaction other than his arms tensing when I lick his neck.

  And then we’re staring at each other.

  “Your turn,” I say, my face on fire with fear. What’s he going to do? A shot off my clit. Oh, God. Please. Yes!

  With my heart racing, I watch Jake. He slowly bends down to my neck, his lips on my collarbone, but he doesn’t stay there. A jolt of nerves hits me, and now my entire body is trembling. He notices and laughs under his breath. “Relax, City Girl. I’ll be gentle.”

  Straightening his posture, he places his hand on my chest, and then sweeps his other hand behind my knees to lay me flat on the bar. He moves around to the edge so I’m basically laid out on the edge of the bar and he’s between my legs. Nervously, I look around the bar. Thankfully it’s empty.

  Sitting up on my elbows, I watch with rapt attention as he flips my dress up so my panties are on display for him. I don’t say a word. At least not yet. And then he spreads my thighs apart.

  I blush, wondering if he can see the damp spot on my panties where I’m wet. I moan, not meaning to, and toss my head back. “Of course you’d do that. This is so embarrassing.”

  He chuckles, his head between my legs. “Nice panties.”

  Playfully, I try to push him away. “Stop looking.”

  I try to close my legs, but he catches them in his firm grip, prying them apart. “I don’t think so. You owe me.”

  I owe him? For what?

  His mouth moves in, closer, and then closer. The heat from his breath and the humidity has me sweating like crazy. No way do I want his mouth down there. I try to pull him up by his shoulders, but he knocks my hands away and shakes his head. “If you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re wet, it’s pretty obvious. No sense in hiding from me.”

  Motherfucker. I hate him.

  With his mouth on my left thigh, he slowly licks a trail upward until his nose hits my damn clit. He breaths in deep and then growls.

  Keeping one hand on my hips, he uses his thumb and pushes the edge of my panties down just above my pubic bone. It’s enough that I know he sees my landing strip. Drawing back slightly, he reaches beside him for the salt, sprinkling it over the path his tongue has just made. Reaching up, he places the lime in my mouth.

  Is he serious?

  Yep. Looks like it.

  I take the lime. Fumbling around, he takes the shot and lowers himself once more between my legs. Wanting to tease him, and maybe torture myself, I spread my legs a little farther apart.

  His jaw tenses, his eyes a little darker as his hair falls in his face. Nothing is being said, but this is by far the sexiest shot I’ve ever experienced. I’m kind of hoping the same goes for him and this isn’t something he does all the time.

  Jake licks the path he made with the salt, his tongue flat and wet against my overly heated skin. Electricity and anticipation courses through my body, provoking me to jump on contact. He notices and grips my thighs a little tighter, holding me still. I’m certainly not going anywhere, am I
?

  Pulling away, he takes the shot, throwing his head back. And now he’s staring at me with something similar to a lion just before they pounce and devour their meal.

  Devour me, baby. Lick me dry. Oh, Kendall, there’s so many things wrong with you.

  At some point I must have bitten down on the lime because the juice dripped down my chin and neck.

  And Jake, well, he takes full advantage of the juicy mess and literally licks my neck and chin, capturing the juices. When he’s finished, he takes the lime, smiling the entire time.

  Our lips never touch, and I’m sadly disappointed. Ah, sad face. I wanted to kiss him.

  With a dirty smirk, Jake leans in, bringing his lips to my ear, his right hand on the back of my neck. He fists a handful of hair and tugs, just a little but enough that my body breaks out in a sweat. “I bet if I pushed these panties aside, you’d soak my fingers, wouldn’t you, City Girl?” His left hand moves higher until the pad of his thumb is between my legs. He strokes his thumb over my clit, separated from his skin by the thin wetness of my panties, with just enough pressure that I want to scream and then shove his entire hand up there.

  To say my body is now officially more liquefied than the drinks this wicked, beautiful-looking bartender serves his customers would be the biggest understatement of the night. I need him as much as I need my next breath. I’m praying that this night ends the way I’ve envisioned, because this ache wasn’t going to go away on its own.

  2 parts Sauza® Gold

  1 part Solerno Blood Orange Liqueur

  ½ part blood orange juice

  1 part sour mix

  Add all ingredients in a shaker

  Add ice

  Shake well until chilled

  Pour into a rocks glass with a salted rim

  Garnish with a blood orange wheel or an orange twist.

  It’s shortly after I let Jake do a tequila shot off my vagina that I know exactly where this night is heading. And I’m pleased with this discovery. His drinks and demeanor provide me with exactly what I’ve been looking for. Numbness and relaxation.

  After the shot, I notice the time. It’s three in the morning, and we’ve gotten into a conversation about his tattoos and if they hold any meaning.