Chapter Eleven
Terese laid spread eagle on the bed, her body covered with a fine sheen of sweat. All the teasing about abandoning her on Monday made Drew generous, overly generous. Like multiple orgasms followed by breakfast in bed generous. She rolled onto her side, watching him dress.
“Leaving so soon?” She cuddled closer as he pulled on his shoes—his blond hair a tangled mess, his face tinged pink with the afterglow. Tracing her fingers along his back, she tugged at the waistband of his pants. He wiggled as she dipped her hand in.
“I really do have to work in the morning,” he said, taking her hand away and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. She pouted.
“But if you stay, I’ll send you to work with a smile.” She tucked in further, curling her body around his, almost pinning him to the bed.
His dark eyes sparkled as he brushed her hair away from her face. A light smile danced across his lips. “I want to stay. You know that. But if I do, neither of us will sleep.” He flipped her hand over and kissed her palm. A flutter ran through her, desire pooling low in her stomach. She wanted him.
Again.
“Come over after work.” Sitting up, she draped herself across his shoulders. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispered, blowing in his ear for good measure. He shivered.
“Terese,” he said, gathering up both her hands and pushing her back down on the bed. He pinned her hands over her head, and every nerve in her body screamed, “Yes!”
He loomed over her. “I have to go.”
Still holding her hands, he kissed her, slowly, softly. She moaned beneath him, trying to press every inch of her naked body against his. Why did he have to put his pants on anyway?
“I have to work.” He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. When he hit the top of her collarbone, desire pulsed madly between her legs. Her hips thrust at him and her hands jerked, trying to touch him.
“I don’t want to go.” He continued, sliding down her body, finding her hard nipples. He mouthed them between words. Her body hummed with each lick, each nibble. No way she’d let him leave now.
“Stay with me,” she purred, her voice low and sultry. “You know you want to.”
He groaned, seemingly transfixed by her wantonness. He changed the grip on her hands, freeing one of his. His fingers danced down her body to between her legs. She twitched at his touch, bucking and pressing herself against his exploring hand.
“Terese…” Her name fell like a prayer from his lips, and she moaned again. “You are so ready.” His fingers twisted, and a flash of lightning burst through her. “So wet, so…” He pulled back. “I…” She stared at him hard, projecting every ounce of heat her body generated. And the words died on his lips.
“Finish what you started.”
He stared down at her, his gaze lustful, his nostrils flaring. “Be careful what you wish for.” He waited a beat, then his fingers traced over her again, his hand and mouth teasing her into a fevered state. When he finally released her hands, she plunged her fingers into his hair, holding on for the ride. She screamed his name as the orgasm shot through her.
Drew, that bastard, only allowed her a moment to recover before he came at her again. She tugged at his jeans, but he seemed too busy to care. She loved the motion of his hands, but she needed him inside her now.
“Take off your fucking pants!”
He lifted his eyes and gazed at her down the length of her body. God, she almost came again. “You want me to stop?”
“I want you to shag me good.”
“I told you, be careful what you ask for,” he said and winked.
Before she demanded anything else, he flipped her over on her stomach. He pushed at the back of her legs, compelling her up onto her knees and elbows. She heard a condom wrapper rip, and then he was inside her. In one quick smooth motion, he thrust in to the hilt. She came in a wild frenzy.
“Oh, no.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re not getting away that easy.” Terese moaned louder as he pounded into her. He came hard, thrusting into her deeply, pushing her down into the mattress. She reveled in it. His sweet and accommodating mannerisms disappearing under the guise of lust. She liked a bit of aggression.
She liked it a lot.
****
Grabbing his shoes and shirt, Drew cursed for succumbing to Terese’s charms. Not that it wasn’t amazing, but his taskmaster brain buzzed with alarm about work. Hating himself and his dad—a little bit—for being a work-a-holic, he glanced back at the sex goddess one more time.
Terese still lay in bed, but not sprawled in a tempting, impossibly sexy position as before. Curled up on her pillow, she slept soundly, not noticing his escape. No, not escape, departure. He wanted nothing more than to join her and spend the next few weeks in her bed. But duty called.
Shrugging on his shirt as he left the apartment, he scrubbed his curls. Guilt lingered in the air. Another day and he hadn’t told her. Another day and he still kept his last name a secret. It was plain stupid at this point. She wouldn’t care who he was in the end. They liked each other. They connected. Hell, look at what just happened.
Jogging down the steps and out to the street, he tried not to think about the hot and heavy sex. Too much thinking and he’d be right back upstairs and into the doghouse with his dad and George. But man, Terese followed his wild hunch. He wasn’t usually Mr. Super-Aggressive, tie the girl down, but it worked and she liked it.
Slipping into the car, he paused. Had he really held her down? Or was that just the role he played with his new style?
Don’t go there. Not now.
He’d have to deal with a stressed George and the Drake-wannabes in about an hour. His body craved sleep, his mind some time to process, not to mention, a real plan to tell Terese everything.
There was no reason not to tell her. She obviously liked the sex and enjoyed his company, during the ten or so minutes when they took a breather. He chuckled as he unlocked his apartment door. Maybe he was blinding her with it, blinding himself, but most relationships started with the hot and steamy. Later, they cooled down into the “learning about each other” part. He was fine. He wasn’t hiding. They’d been too busy to have those deep meaningful conversations. No harm in not telling her everything.
Rationalize much?
****
Wednesday night, Terese stood at the bar, chewing on her fire-engine red thumbnail. Eric leaned across the bar to put his hands over hers.
“You need to stop that,” he said.
Blinking, she glanced up at him, then down at her ravaged nail. “Oh, oops. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” Heat rose in her cheeks as she bowed her head. “I have a lot on my mind.”
Eric shrugged. “I didn’t want to listen to you bitch about ruining your manicure.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then ducked behind the bar to help. Wednesday nights were typically slow, and tonight was no exception. It left her too much time to think about Drew and her financial problems. He’d been such useful distraction from her money woes. In his arms, the impending disaster of the bar closing seemed far away. Grabbing a rag, she polished the bar, her eyes unfocused.
Eric bumped her a few minutes later. “You’re going to wear a hole through the counter.” He nodded indicating the spot she’d cleaned three hundred times. Terese twisted her mouth, dropping the rag.
“You wanna talk about it?” he offered.
She scrutinized him. Eric was a nice guy and a good bartender. He’d probably be running Oakwood Tavern after she left, if she left, if the bar was still here in three months. Geez. Did Eric even know what was happening? She raised her thumbnail to her mouth but halted before gnawing on it again.
“It’s okay,” Eric said, sliding back down the bar. “I understand.” His mouth turned down in a frown. They’d never been close friends, but lately she’d been freezing him out.
“Wait. I…” She shrugged. “I need a beer.” Eric’s mouth twitched as he poured her a local microbrew and slid it down the bar. She raised the glass to her co-worker before taking a grateful sip.
“So.” Eric sidled up to her again. “Talk.”
She sighed. “You know about Alan’s problem, right?” Eric lowered his head and nodded. “I…I don’t think I can stick it out and wait for the dust to clear.” Chewing her lip, she spun her glass on the bar. Not raising her gaze to his, she added, “I can’t afford to be out of work.”
Eric said nothing, his towel swiping over the bar in short strokes. She nerved herself to meet his eyes. His chest rose as he pulled in a deep breath. His bottom lip protruding as if he were thinking hard, he stared off at the ceiling.
“You’d leave us?” he asked, sniffing loudly. “I knew this day would come…” He wiped mock tears, and Terese smacked his arm. He laughed, playfully punching her on the shoulder.
“Did we talk about it before?” She tapped her lips, thinking. She didn’t have many girlfriends to talk about life issues with. Usually, she confided in Alan or her mom. And not often. As a rule, Terese dealt with her own crap without dumping on others. But some days, another opinion was gold.
“Not really,” Eric said, returning to the chore of polishing glasses and scanning tables. He poured two Bud lights from the taps, putting them on the counter before Angelina even asked for them for table six. Terese grinned. She’d trained him well.
“Honestly, I thought you’d be over at the new conference center already, but you haven’t said much,” he continued. When she didn’t answer, he narrowed his eyes. “Spill.”
She sighed, guilt rumbling in her gut as if she were betraying Eric. “I have an interview coming up. I’m waiting on their call.”
“So what like soon?” he asked. She nodded. “Very soon?” She shrugged. He threw his hands in the air. “Well, fuck. Warn a guy would ya? Shit…” He paused, rubbing his chin. “If you leave here, there’d be a giant vacuum on both power and common sense.” She laughed, but Eric seemed half serious. “Does Alan know?”
“Of course. He set it up for me. We discussed it earlier in the week. He’s probably not selling the tavern, though some of the other bars…” Her words faded off at the idea of Alan losing his family’s tavern and the rest of his empire being sold at auction.
Clearing her throat, she continued, “We talked about my job. Alan even offered to keep me on as manager for now, with a severe pay cut though. And as much as I’d love to, I have no money. Plus, I don’t want to schlep drinks my entire life.” She refrained from explaining further. Eric didn’t need to know about her embarrassing lack of personal finance skills.
Eric chuckled. “Your entire life? Drama much? In ten years, you could be Alan, schmoozing from bar to bar, the elegant host.” He nudged her shoulder, and she swatted him.
“But I have a degree collecting dust, and maybe I should use it at some point.”
“Please! You use it every day you work here. Running this place takes serious organizational skills, which you have in spades.”
She shrugged, loving the compliment. “Yes, but it’s college kids mostly. How can I run Thursday night shots when I’m thirty? I’ll be so out of touch by then—”
Eric cut her off. “Don’t demean your work, even if it’s not your life dream. You do an amazing job, and if you wanted it, you’d stay and continue to kick ass on every shift. You have the best people working for you. Things run like a well-oiled machine. That’s you. Not Alan. He doesn’t hire, fire, or run anything. It’s all you.”
Embarrassed, she stammered, “I do all right. Things are okay.” She twisted her fingers.
Eric slapped his rag on the counter. “Listen to me, woman. You have no idea what it’s like at some of these other places. Rotten pay, total disorganization, food like shit…”
She waved him off, hating compliments but knowing everything he said was true. She was good at her job but in debt up to her eyeballs. “Oakwood Tavern’s not so bad, then?”
Eric laughed. “You know it isn’t. Good pay, decent hours. You’re a good person to work for—no bullshit and you’re not a complete hard-ass.”
“I’m not?” She pouted. “I thought maybe I was a little tough.”
Angelina slid up to the bar with an order. She tilted her head at Terese, a questioning glint in her eye. Terese never stayed behind the bar long on any night. Usually, she ambled, networked, and kept everyone watered. Terese shook her head in a “not tonight” gesture. Angelina nodded, put the drinks on her tray, and strolled off. Eric’s gaze lingered on Angelina’s backside.
Terese raised an eyebrow. “You and her?”
Eric let out a low whistle. “Ah, no thanks on that one. I’m not into being led around on a leash.” Terese lifted her eyebrows. “Not literally. At least I think, not literally. I overheard her talking to another server, listing the things she required in a boyfriend—total obedience, fat wallet, and rock-star looks. I can’t do any of those.” Terese tilted her head, a smirk on her lips. “I don’t want to either.”
“Yeah well, fun for a weekend…” she teased.
“You’re one to talk, with your new boy-toy in tow. You seem exhausted, by the way. Congrats.”
Her shoulders raised and dropped half-heartedly. She didn’t want to talk about the whole crazy whirlwind relationship. Too many things plagued her brain without deciding what to do with Mr. Sex.
“Back to our original subject,” Eric said. “You’re tough but in a practical, no-nonsense way. It works well here. Most of us are happy. No one wants to see you go.” Guilt pouring over her, Terese grabbed a rag to polish the bar again.
“But,” Eric continued. “It’s better to get out before we’re out on the street.”
She gazed up at him, waiting for him to say something more—something to add clarity to the bar situation. He said nothing, reiterating his message to get while the getting was good. She’d served her time here at Oakwood Tavern. The convention center might be a good change, more professional, better salary, and a way out from her debt.
Terese patted Eric on the shoulder and strolled back to her office. The sight of her chair recalled Drew’s visit. She squeezed her thighs together, trying not to think too long about it. God, he made her horny. Inviting him over tonight could only be a positive. She grabbed her phone.
Nothing like a little calming nookie before another day full of tax audits and possible life-changing interviews.