“You want to get out of here?” Warren whispers in my ear while we’re dancing, not an inch of air between the two of us, his hard chest and mine, the friction only adding to the sensation, causing my nipples to pebble. It’s almost indecent, and I’m cursing the dress I’m wearing with the lack of bra it required, which was no easy feat with the girls. Being blessed in the chest isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Thankfully, gravity hasn’t killed them, like I know it will sooner rather than later.
“I’d really like that.” Besides our names and a few things about ourselves, everything else has remained a mystery, a fact that I’m finding absolutely refreshing.
“Did you drive?” Warren asks.
“No, I took an Uber. I knew I’d be drinking and didn’t want to chance it.” It was a splurge for my cheap-ass self, yet there was no way around it. I forgot to ask Rita if she was driving or not. Still, if she drank once she got here, I’d still need to Uber home. That’s why I just went ahead and took the hit to my bank account. Not that I’m poor, but I’m one of those people who likes to see the money in my bank account instead of spending it.
“Alright, we’ve got a couple of options. I’ll let you make the choice for us.” He cocks an eyebrow in that manner which only looks good on Warren, apparently. On any other man, it would make me think he was cocky. It’s sexy on him.
“Okay?”
“I take you home, or we hit up the place down the street. It’s not so noisy and isn’t full of people taking advantage of an open bar.” The way he talks up the second option tells me all I need to know.
“Option two, please. I’m kind of not ready to call it a night. I’d hate to have gotten all dressed up and not have a chance to turn into a pumpkin,” I reply.
“It’s settled, then. Let’s go grab our coats and be on our way.” His hand settles at the base of my spine, guiding me off the dance floor, practically sweeping me off my feet in every way imaginable.
CHAPTER 4
Warren
I was hoping she’d pick option two. That’s probably why I whisked her away as fast as humanly possible without looking like a desperate fool. Though, to be fair, if she asked to go home, I would have weaseled my way inside her place somehow, smooth-talking her into a fuck of a lot more, too.
We hooved it to the bar a block down, both of us in our winter coats, Halo shivering and me maneuvering her until she was in the crook of my arm, taking some of my warmth.
“I clearly don’t get out much because each place is just getting prettier and prettier, it seems,” she says as we step into the bar. It’s completely decked out for the holiday season. There’s not a square inch of this place doesn’t have some sort of Christmas display.
“Never been?” I whisper in her ear. There’s a soulful crooning humming throughout the place, the melody low in tone, and the atmosphere is at ease. I watch as goose bumps slide across her skin, making me think of just what else will cause those. Will it be my lips and tongue trailing a path up her neck, or maybe the tips of my fingers. Fuck, the thought of Halo taking my cock, slowly, deep, and with a patience I’m unsure I’ll have is driving me crazy.
“No, but I’m thinking this won’t be the last time I come.” A retort sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to make a comment, but I bite it back, especially with the way she blushes, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Let’s grab a table.” The man on the stage is singing a bluesy type of song. Patrons are sitting at high top tables, some in booths, a few at the bar, waiters and waitresses bustling back and forth between patrons. Halo doesn’t respond, instead, she nods in agreement. I walk her towards a booth in the corner, out of the way and away from prying eyes, wanting to get to know as much as I can about her.
“Do you come here often?” I help her out of her coat, the tips of my fingers finding the skin along her arms, wanting her to have a lasting impression of what I want to do to her body.
“Not really. A few times a month maybe. When I’ve had a bad day, it helps me unwind. Even when not in this holiday setup, it’s a great atmosphere, and they have the whiskey I like.” Instead of sitting across from her, I slide in next to her.
“Oh.” I’m not sure if it’s a reaction to my statement or to how I’m now sitting close to her until she says, “I get that. There’s nothing better than coming home from work, grabbing a drink from the fridge, whiskey in your case, beer or wine in mine, and soaking in the tub for a solid hour. Though, my place is lacking in that last department. It was almost a deal breaker entirely when I moved here. If it weren’t for the need of a place to live, I would have kept looking.”