Dylan

Claire looks so horrified by her own vocal relief that I can't suppress a laugh. More than anything, I want to kiss her right now. I need to touch her, but if I do, we'll end up having sex on the floor of the bar, and she deserves better than to have our first time together be on a bar floor – even if said floor has just been mopped.

“Come on,” I say to her.

She picks up her bag, slips on her jacket, and allows me to take her hand so I can tug her out the door with me.

I lock Brody's behind us before pulling her along to where my bike is parked in the alley outside of the bar.

Claire comes to a stop, pulling on my hand. When I turn to look at her, she's staring at my bike and biting her lip. “I, um, forgot this is your ride home.”

“Relax. I'll drive slowly.”

She shakes her head. “Do you know how many accidents people have on those things?”

“Claire, you said you wanted to have some fun. That's why you came to me, remember?”

“Yes, but sleeping with you is a calculated risk.”

I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her waist so she's pressed against me. Immediately, I regret the impulse. She's too close, smells too good. Without meaning to, I'm reliving that kiss, and I'm struggling to keep my eyes off her lips.

“You trust me, right?” I ask huskily.

“Yes.”

I hold her gaze. “Then trust me to show you some fun while I keep you safe, okay?”

She looks between the bike and me a couple of times before she finally consents. “Okay.”

“Good,” I say, before allowing myself the pleasure of dipping my head and kissing her.

It isn't until my lips meet hers that I realise the absolute stupidity of my decision. Need explodes through me as I taste her once more. And this time there's no bar between us to minimise the effect she has on me. I've wanted her forever. At least that's how it feels. I run my hands up and down her back, feeling the indentation of her bra through the material of her dress and jacket, before cupping her rear and bringing her into hard contact with my aching erection. And as her lips soften and part under mine, and she presses her hips against my hard-on, my need for her spins out of control.

One minute we're standing there kissing and the next I have her up against the brick wall in the alley, my hands gripping her hips as her hands slip first under my leather jacket and then under my white shirt. She strokes her hands over my chest and stomach, each touch and caress of her fingertips burning me, causing the muscles underneath my skin to flex and contract all at once.

She circles my tongue with her own while her thumbs circle my hard nipples, causing me to shiver as my cock jerks and twitches with excitement.

Blood rushes through my veins, chased by adrenaline. I've never felt anything like it. I've never felt so alive. Touching Claire, having her in my arms and kissing her is better than jumping out of an airplane and falling through the clouds. It's better than having the earth rushing up to meet me. It's better than driving my bike at ridiculously fast speeds. It's the biggest rush I've ever experienced. If it feels this good just to be touched by her, how will it feel to be inside her?

I kiss her jaw, and when her head falls back, I skim my lips along the column of her neck all the way down to her collarbone before licking the dip between her breasts, tasting her perfume and skin and sweat in the most potent cocktail I've ever consumed.

“Dylan.”

She moves against me desperately as my mouth latches on to her breast through the thin material of her dress. I can feel the contour of her hardened peak under my tongue, but it isn't enough to satisfy me. I pull her dress and the cup of her bra down so I can taste her. The sensation of her naked nipple rolling across my tongue just about undoes me, and when she moans and begs me to touch her, I'm only too eager to oblige.

She moans as my hands slide under her dress, immediately coming into contact with naked, heated flesh. My fingers slide through trimmed, damp curls to her slick sex. The blood in my cock throbs even harder as I find and slick my thumb over the hard little bundle of nerves between her legs. More than anything right now I wish we were in a bed so I could taste her.

I feel her tremble and shake as I circle it again and again, before rubbing my thumb backwards and forwards over it.

“Oh God,” she cries.

Her moans start to increase in intensity and I stop lavishing attention on her breasts so I can muffle her cries with my mouth. I kiss her hungrily as she clings to me, and only when I sense she's on the edge do I slip one finger inside her. Her orgasm is instantaneous, and I have to fight my own impending climax as I hear and feel her pleasure overcome her.

It takes all my control not to unzip and take her against the wall right there, especially since her hands are already reaching for the waistband of my pants. But when she comes down from the high of her orgasm and her blood returns to normal, she'll probably realise she's cold and uncomfortable. I practically grinded myself against her while she had her back against the bricks. Physically hurting her in any way is out of the question.

“Why are we stopping?” she asks breathlessly as I put a hand on hers, stopping her from undoing my belt.

“Because I want a bed for the next part,” I tell her.

“I'm okay.”

She's more than okay. She's perfect. She feels amazing. I only hope I'm not making the biggest mistake of my life doing this with Claire.

I'm still worried about her ability to keep things in perspective, but at the moment – and maybe for the first time ever – I'm also worried about my ability to do the same. I've been fantasizing about this for nine long years and reality has already far surpassed the fantasy.

No matter how good it could be between us, I can't afford to forget I'm leaving the country soon. Nor can I afford to forget the fact that I have nothing to offer a woman who wants to settle down because putting down roots is the last thing I want to do. I'll be happy roaming the earth and being a free agent for as long as I live.

Hopefully Claire truly understands that. Avoiding misunderstandings is crucial here. It's the only way we'll both walk away from this thing between us without regrets.

The clattering of glass bottles being poured into a recycling bin somewhere near the top of the alleyway brings me back to the present.

“But I want you,” she complains breathily.

“And I want you,” I say, taking her hand and torturing myself by running it over the hard proof of the fact. “But I don't want to worry about being rushed or, worse, caught.”

Her soft little moan as she feels my hard flesh pulse against her hand almost undoes all my good intentions. “I'm taking you home,” I tell her determinedly. 

Ep. 11

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Claire

I stare at Dylan, my head reeling from the segue in the conversation. Wasn't he just about to kiss me? Why on earth does he want to talk about this now?

“I remember.”

“I booked my ticket last week. I'm leaving in October, Claire. I'm going. I'm finally doing it. You're the first person I’ve told.”

His words are like one hit after another. Of course I've heard Dylan talking about the big world trip he wants to take. How could I not have when he's made a hundred references to what would be his biggest adventure yet? He pursues fun and adventure the same way I pursue security and stability, and I should have expected this would happen eventually. Still, Dylan is twenty-seven and when one year after another passed and he didn't leave, I started to convince myself that maybe he wouldn't go.

To hear that he is finally ready to embark on his adventure has me feeling confused and unsettled.

“Claire, if all you're looking for is a bit of fun this shouldn't be a problem.”

He's right. I know he's right, but it feels like a massive problem. I have been telling myself for years that I hate him, but he's been a huge part of my life – of my security – this whole time, and now he's just going to leave.

“I don't suppose you booked your return flight?” I try to make it sound like a joke, as if I'm not hugely bothered by the idea of not seeing him again anytime soon.

“I have no idea when I'll be ready to come home.” He shrugs. “Hell, I might even find a place I love so much, I can't bear to leave it.”

I nod, swallowing silently and trying not to look as dejected as I feel. Of course he won't commit to a return date. He doesn't even want to commit to coming home. He's leaving. And even though the thought smacks me harder than any of his rejections ever have, I'm doing my best to see the positive in the situation right now.

The fact that I know he's going to leave should make it clear that all we can have together is a bit of fun. There will be no future for us. I won't have to worry about a deadline, or what happens when we're over. In fact, this might even make it easier because afterwards he'll be gone and I won't have to worry about him sticking his nose in or reminding me of the time we shared together. Nor will I have to worry about accidentally becoming too emotionally involved with him and fantasizing about weddings and houses and babies. When it's over, it's over.

He's watching me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

“It's fine,” I tell him. “Actually, it's great.”

“It's great?”

“Well, by October, I'll probably be done having fun with you.” I pat his chest with my palm, half affectionately, half dismissively. “I guess now I don't have to worry about you becoming so attached to me that you refuse to let me go.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he can’t hide the grin fighting to take control of his mouth.

“You might well laugh,” I say. “But with your reputation and all, I was really worried about that.”

“Well then, I hope I've managed to set your mind at ease.”

“You have. Thank you.”

“Are you going to set my mind at ease now? Normally, I don't give a shit about rules, but if we're going to do this, I need to you to promise me one thing: promise me you won't fall for me.”

I do my best to feign amusement but can't quite pull it off. Instead, I settle for being serious and genuine. “You're leaving. I think you already know I'm not foolish enough to get hung up on someone who isn't planning on sticking around.”

“So…you still want to go through with this, then?”

“Are there any other reasons you can think of why I shouldn't?”

“Nope.”

“Well, then…”

“Well then, I guess I should get you home.”

My heart, which has been hammering away in my chest, stops suddenly. “So, we're not going to…?”

“Oh, we're definitely going to do that.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Ep. 10

Dylan

“Who you texting?”

I lean over the bar, making Claire jump at the sound of my voice. She quickly looks back down at her phone.

“Um, Kara.”

“She's worried about you?”

A smile tugs at her beautiful lips and she looks up at me under her dark lashes. “She wants to know how I went propositioning you.”

I snatch her third shot glass for the night away and put it under the bar. “Given that you were successful, I'm cutting you off.”

“Why's that?” she asks, making a cute frowny-face.

I lean in so we're mere inches apart, tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and say, “Because I want you sober enough to remember every single thing I'm going to do to you tonight.”

I hear her draw in a breath and watch as her eyes darken even further. I pull back and grin. “So what did Kara think about your decision to proposition me?”

“She thought it was a great idea.”

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I did tell you she's been encouraging me to…broaden my horizons.”

“Come on, Claire. There's no way Kara thought this was a good idea.”

She shrugs, making it clear her best friend doesn't approve.

“Kara's never been my biggest fan,” I say, saving her the admission.

“Well, you've always been a bit of a jerk,” she says with a crooked smile.

I can't help but tease her. “Can you imagine what would have happened if I'd been nice to you before now?”

“No.”

“Well, rest assured I'm about to start being very nice to you, so you're going to find out.”

I watch her throat as she swallows, pleased at how I affect her. She doesn't meet my eyes as she says, “You're almost done here, then?”

“We're about to start closing up and cleaning soon.”

“Anything I can do to help?” she asks, blushing.

I grin at her poorly concealed impatience before looking first at Mike and then at Ally. “We should have it sorted, but I'll let you know if anything comes up.” I can pretty much guarantee something will be coming up if I stand around much longer studying Claire and imagining what sorts of fun I could show her.

It's after two in the morning by the time I'm even close to being done with the cleaning. Since Rufus, the owner, trusts me implicitly, I'm the one in charge of most of the closing shifts. There is always a lot of work to be done, but the boss has a list of things that needs to be crossed off, making it easy to work through everything quickly and efficiently. It's the only time I don't mind being organised. Closing properly means the opening shift staff are better prepared.

I ask Mike to do the mopping and Ally to wipe down the benches and the tables and the bar stools.

After being continually distracted by the fact Claire is standing at the bar without underwear on and that she reapplied her pink lip gloss when she went to the bathroom earlier, I decide to put my distraction to work. Since she's asked me several times if she can help, I ask her to clear the dishes out of the sink and fill the dishwasher. She calls me a taskmaster, but I can tell she's happy to help.

I actually love managing the bar. Aside from the extra cash it affords me, I enjoy motivating people. The people I work with like their jobs, and I hope I'm at least part of the reason why. I try to keep things fun and easy while still getting the job done.

Over the past year, Rufus has dropped plenty of hints about wanting to sell up and retire. I know the boss would be a happy man if I bought the place, but I don't have that kind of cash. I've been saving up for my world trip for a while now and buying a bar is well and truly out of my budget. Besides, as much as I love the bar and my job here, I love it because I know I can walk away from it at any time. It's never going to keep me locked down. I don't owe anyone anything but a couple of weeks' notice if I want to leave. I like that feeling. It makes me comfortable. If there is ever any stress, or I decide I don't like what I'm doing, I can just leave.

Claire, on the other hand, has devoted her life to stress and hard work. Well, until now, apparently.

Once I'm satisfied I have almost everything covered, I send Ally and Mike out the door. But not before Mike can tease me about wanting to be alone with Claire.

Unfortunately, it didn't escape Mike's notice just how hot Claire looked tonight, or that I had my tongue down her throat while we were supposed to be working. My bartender has been pestering me all night with questions about whether Claire is my friend or girlfriend or something else entirely?

“Let's just say I'm into her and that's all you need to know,” I told Mike after it became apparent the questions would never end.

It was the first time I'd ever decided not to use Austin as a reason why a guy shouldn't pursue Claire.

She must have heard my answer because she stopped what she was doing and looked over her shoulder at me, giving me a smile that was both sweet and sexy all at once.

As I finally lock the door behind Mike and Ally, I'm extremely aware of the fact that I'm now alone with Claire.

She exits the kitchen just as I walk into the bar area to go look for her.

“It's late,” she says.

“Yep.”

“Are we alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we going to talk now? Or are you going to give me a ride home?”

Her eyes keep darting between me and the floor, and she keeps shuffling from one foot to another, obviously nervous.

Normally, I'd find her nervousness adorable, but I'm feeling nervous too, my heart beating fast and my whole body uncomfortably hot. The way she affects me has always been over the top and tonight is no different. Well, except for the fact that I'm actually going to get to act on years of pent-up lust tonight.

The thought makes my blood rush so fast I can hear the swoosh of it in my ears.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, needing to convince myself that this is really happening.

“I wouldn't have put myself out there tonight if I wasn't. The first time you turned me down was bad enough.”

“I'm just trying to do the right thing by you.”

“Funny. I never pegged you as such a do-gooder, Dylan James.”

“You bring out the do-gooder in me in a way no one else does.”

“I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Be flattered. You should definitely be flattered.”

Her smile is tight. “So, are you done trying to do the right thing by me now?”

“I can honestly say there's nothing right about the things I've been thinking about doing to you for the past few hours.”

Her mouth forms a cute little O.

We've slowly been moving closer to each other as we've talked, and now she's finally standing within reach. The memory of how hot her mouth was on mine is enough to jerk me into action and reach for her.

“Wait,” she says, putting a hand on my chest. “I still don't understand why you suddenly changed your mind about all this.”

“Life is too short to have regrets.”

“Are you telling me that not sleeping together would be something you'd regret? Because earlier you seemed more than a little bothered by the idea of what this might do to your friendship with Austin.”

“That thought still bothers me, but I'm no longer prepared to let it stand in my way.”

“And is that because you want me?” she asks, her voice low and husky and yet kind of shaky, too. “Because you want this? Or is it because you're worried that if you don't do this, someone else you don't approve of will?”

I can't help but chuckle. “Are we talking about the big-brotherly chore thing again?”

“Please don't make fun of me.”

“I'm not making fun of you, Claire,” I say, caressing her cheek with my thumb. “This isn't a chore to me. I just need to know you're only looking for fun.”

“Of course. I wouldn't have come to you if I was looking for anything else.”

Despite the fact I should have expected her to say that, and even though it's exactly what I needed her to say, her words cause my chest to ache and my stomach to tighten. I don't understand my response, so I just accept it as one more thing Claire can do to me that no one else can – just one more effect she has on me that I don't understand.

Because of the way she turns me inside out and because of the part we've played in each other's lives for the past nine years, I know that the only chance we have of not shooting everything to hell in a handbasket is to be completely honest with each other.

“Do you remember Austin and I talking about the world trip I've always wanted to take?” I ask.

Ep. 9

Dylan

Is she serious? Of course I've noticed she's all grown up. But it's never been more apparent than it is tonight.

For the past hour, I haven't been able to get the idea of Claire without underwear out of my head. I worked non-stop serving Brody's thirsty patrons while picturing myself sliding Claire's dress up the backs of her sexy thighs and taking her bent over my bar.

Even now, the fantasy is so vivid that I'm sweating bullets; my heart racing in its frantic rush to propel enough blood south for the sex marathon I want to have with her. I need to get her out of here before I do something Austin will kill me for.

And yet, getting her out of here won't be a picnic. She said she wanted to catch up with me, but the way she is looking at me right now causes dread and excitement to race through me simultaneously.

I've been around long enough to recognise desire when I see it, and that's what I'm looking at right now. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and far darker than their normal colour. Her lips are slightly parted, and her breathing is shallow. I curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching for her. She came here looking for trouble, but I'm starting to worry she came here looking for trouble with me.

"What are you doing, Claire?"

"Helping you out," she says coyly. "Just like you asked me to."

"Don't mess around. You know what I mean. You don't want to catch up. The other night you told me you hated me and demanded I stay away from you."

"That was Thursday. Things are different tonight."

"What does that mean?"

"I have more information now."

“What are you talking about?”

"I spoke to Austin yesterday."

"I know. He told me I should back off, but just because you blackmailed him into calling me doesn't mean I'm going to."

"He told you I blackmailed him?"

"No, I worked that out on my own. Austin would never tell me to back off otherwise."

She smiles. "You knew Austin wouldn't like the idea of me asking Sam out."

"Of course."

"Just like you know he has this thing about me dating guys who don't want to stick around and marry me."

"He's always been upfront about what he does and doesn't want for you."

"What about what I want?" she asks softly, stepping even closer to me and reaching up to straighten my tie.

Her boldness takes me by surprise. I've never minded girls being upfront about what they want, but my body and mind have never responded this quickly to the prospect. The husky quality of her voice alone is enough to turn my blood ten times thicker. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her exactly what she wants, but if she tells me straight out that she wants to go to bed with me, my already stretched self-control might snap.

"What you want doesn't matter when it's bad for you," I tell her as firmly as possible.

"Drop the big brother act, Dylan. I'm twenty-five, nearly twenty-six. I think I should get to decide what's bad for me."

"Only if you're capable of telling good ideas from bad ones. Judging by the fact you came here looking to talk to me, I don't think you are."

"I told you the other night; I just want to have some fun." Her fingernail scrapes against one of my shirt buttons.

"Claire," I warn, my temperature on the rise and my dick jumping against the front of my pants at the thought of what she has in mind. "You need to drop this."

"You know, Austin told me that once upon a time you wanted to ask me out, but he warned you off."

Well, that explains the change between Thursday night and tonight. Now I just have to kill Austin for spilling the beans to Claire. The fact that she had no idea I was attracted to her was my saving grace on more than one occasion.

"He was one-hundred percent right to do that. I couldn't have given you what you wanted."

"You're probably right," she acknowledges, surprising me. "I had a crush on you then and I probably couldn't have slept with you without hoping for a happily-ever-after, even though I was only sixteen. But I can now. I'm not looking for a commitment. I know you're not my Mr Perfect. I just want to have a good time with someone I'm incredibly attracted to," she says, lowering her eyes once more and plucking at my shirt buttons.

Her words should reassure me, but they don't. I know Claire well enough to know that us sleeping together would be a bigger deal than she lets on. "I can't sleep with you, Claire."

She flinches, and it's the second time tonight I've seen her eyes dim. It must have taken a bucket-load of courage for her to come down here to proposition me, especially after the way I rejected her years ago. The thought makes my heart clench in my chest, but I can't afford to let her think for a second that I'm weak where she's concerned. Not just because I could kiss my friendship with Austin goodbye if I touched her, but because I'm not planning to stick around. I'm out of here in a few months.

And I don't know if I'm ever coming back.

"Because of Austin and his warning?" she asks. "Or because you really can't see us having any fun together? And please be honest with me. I think I deserve that."

"I don't think it matters when the outcome is the same."

"It matters to me," she persists, making me feel that much worse. "Listen, Dylan,” she continues. “My friends made me aware of something the other night. Between my job and my on-going search for the right man, I haven't been enjoying myself all that much. In fact, flirting with Sam on Thursday and working with you behind the bar tonight have been the most fun I've had in a really long time. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I want to let loose and have a bit of fun. If you're not interested, that's fine. I'll just find someone else who is."

Her threat to find someone else for her ‘fun’ sends a fierce wave of possessiveness through me. It is so unfamiliar and so unwanted I'm blindsided by it.

Hell yeah, I want to go to bed with her, but there would be consequences. There always are. We wouldn't just be two people sleeping together. Our lives have been intertwined for the past nine years and I care for her a great deal. I always have. That said, I have no desire to settle down with her and give her the things she hungers for. She says all she wants is fun, but I've never seen Claire take anything lightly. Moreover, Austin would kill me for going to bed with Claire and then leaving.

"What about my friendship with Austin?" I ask. "What happens when he finds out we've been sleeping together?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"You want me to lie to my best friend?"

Uncertainty flashes across her face before a look of determination replaces it. "You could always tell him the truth. That we're both consenting adults and we're having fun together."

"He'd never forgive me. Our friendship would be over."

"Both of you would be idiots if you let your friendship end over something that happened between you and me."

"I can't do that to him, Claire. I'm sorry."

"You're turning me down?" she asks.

The slight quiver in her voice goes straight through my heart and turns me inside out. She looks even more vulnerable than she did when she asked me out all those years ago.

"It's not that I don't want you, Claire. You're gorgeous and sexy as hell. And that dress—"

She gives a short, derisive nod. "Is no match for your noble nature. That's just perfect."

She starts to walk away from me, but I grab her arm and pull her back. "For what it's worth, I've never seen you do anything you didn't put your heart and soul into."

"And I would have approached whatever we did together the same way." Her words send another wave of heat through me. "I want to let loose for a few months and I can't think of anyone I'd feel safer letting go with than you."

"I'm sorry," I repeat, nearly choking on the words.

She shrugs out of my grip. "Not as sorry as I am."

"Where are you going?"

"This is the second time you've turned me down, Dylan. I'm not masochistic enough to try for a third."

"Claire..."

"I'm going back to the side of the bar where I'm a paying customer. And I want another Cock-Sucking Cowboy."

As I watch her walk away from me, I wonder whether I've done the right thing. She just called me noble, but I don't feel noble at all.

I keep an eye on her while I pour her shot. She's barely been standing at the bar for thirty seconds before the guy standing next to her, waiting for a drink, starts talking to her. I don't recognise him, so the man isn't a regular, and the way he's looking at Claire causes the giant knot in my gut to twist in reaction.

"I can't think of anyone I'd feel safer letting go with than you."

She's right to think she would be safe with me. And if she's going to persist with her plans, shouldn't she be with someone who will make sure she's taken care of? If she goes home with the wrong guy, she could end up hurt or much, much worse.

A chill goes through me as I imagine just how much danger she may be about to put herself in if I let her proposition someone else. The idea of something happening to her...It makes me feel violently ill.

Austin would hate me for sleeping with Claire, but if I let Claire walk out of here with some creep, Austin would hate me anyway, and I would never be able to forgive myself. As long as Claire is safe, isn't Austin's hatred worth it?

Yeah, and the fact you've been dying to sleep with Claire since you were a teenager makes you such a bloody martyr, doesn't it? You're really taking one for the team.

I ignore the voice in my head and slam the shot down in front of her a little harder than necessary. The anger and resentment I saw in her eyes on Thursday night are back when she finally looks at me.

"You took me by surprise before," I tell her. "Now that I've had time to think about it, I've realised I might have been too hasty in my refusal."

Her eyes widen, and her lips part, then she looks from me to the guy standing next to her and back to me. And now she looks even madder than a moment ago.

"Give me a break, Dylan. I've had about as much of your big-brother attitude as I can take for one night."

I don't bother pretending I don't understand the comment. She's never going to believe that my thoughts on her walking out of here with someone else is anything more than me wanting to protect her.

"Wait for me to finish my shift and I'll give you a ride home," I insist.

"Forget it. If you think I'm going to let you turn sleeping with me into some big-brotherly chore, you can forget it."

It's so absurd, I laugh. "Big-brotherly chore?"

Hot colour rises up her neck and spills into her cheeks. "I don't need you to do me any favours."

I lean on the bar in front of her. "Claire, I've never considered sleeping with a woman a favour before and I'm certainly not about to start with you."

"Please just forget I asked. I sure as hell intend to," she says before downing the shot I put in front of her.

Her pride is hurt, and that's on me. The thought makes me feel as tall as a pile of horse crap. I wish she was still behind the bar with me so I could prove to her just how much I want her – how much sleeping with her would not be a chore.

Instead, I lean in closer and drop my gaze to where her breasts are straining against the material of her dress. Then I leisurely run my gaze up over the wildly beating pulse in her neck, all the way up to her lips. She used pink lip gloss tonight. I can't wait to find out what flavour it is. Fuck it, why wait?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I cup the back of her head with my hand and lower my mouth to hers. I capture the faintest hint of her lip gloss - strawberries and cream – before she gasps. Taking advantage of her surprise, I stroke my tongue across hers.

The taste of Baileys and butterscotch race across my tastebuds. Desperate to consume more of her, I deepen the kiss. Her lips are so soft underneath mine and the way she mewls and tries to cling to me, even with the bar between us, leaves me hard and aching for her. It's probably just as well that there is a bar between us, or I would have had her out of her dress and down on the floor. Or, as I've fantasised about several times already this evening, bent over the bar in front of me while I slide into her from behind. The need to bury myself in her is as strong as the need to breathe, the way my heart jackhammers in my chest a direct echo of the throb in my dick.

Claire has been my fantasy woman for nine years; the woman I wasn't supposed to think about or dream about, or ever pursue. But tonight she set this thing in motion between us, giving me the chance to act on every dirty, secret fantasy I've ever had about her. I let them all race through my head, every tawdry possibility, before I reluctantly let her go.

She's panting as she stares at me.

"You're too late," she says, but her voice is shaky and holds no conviction.

"I'll tell you what." I lean on the bar again. "Hear me out and if you're not happy with what I have to say, I'll back off. Not just on this, but about everything."

"You'll drop the big brother act?"

I hold up both hands in a sign of surrender. "I'll never warn another guy off again."

Thankfully, the stranger that was hitting on her has turned his attention elsewhere, so I don't have to worry about him for now.

"Okay," she says, albeit reluctantly. "You have a deal."

"Don't go anywhere," I tell her.

"How much do I owe you for the drink?" she asks before I can turn away.

"The house owes you, Claire. And so do I. You really came through for me tonight."

"I had fun," she says with a small shrug. "But I guess you do owe me."

"I'll make it up to you tonight if you let me," I say suggestively.

"Really?"

She's playing at dubious, but she can't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips, nor can she hide the anticipation that mirrors my own.

"Hell yeah,” I grin. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

Ep. 8