Permanent Lines (3 page)

“She’s not a fucking piece of meat, bro,” I told him, trying to play it off neutral,
respecting her as female and not as anything more.

But did I want more? Dammit … maybe.

“Sorry, they can be a little much,” I whispered into Amelia’s ear after Grant gave
me a suspicious glance then walked away.

She shrugged her shoulders, a smile reaching both sides of her face, seeming amused.
“They’re fun!”

I blew out air, relieved. She didn’t see my cock block, claiming her from Grant. Shit,
I might as well piss on her leg, too while I’m at it for the guys here to acknowledge.

It didn’t get much better once we got a few more feet in. We were getting high fives
and pats on the back, and alcohol was handed to us from all angles, which was cool,
but the looks—holy shit were my friends fucking pigs. Not that I could blame them,
Amelia was fucking hot as hell, but Jesus fucking Christ did my blood boil each and
every time one of the dumbasses said some wise-ass, perverted remark to her. She laughed
it off, probably used to it, but not me. I, for some reason, inched closer to her
each and every time. Apparently I was still pissing on her leg. I was being a fucking
idiot, leaving my balls back somewhere at the damn track.

“Aw, thanks, man,” Micah said as he reached for the pint of beer in my hand.

I took it back, giving him a “yeah, right” smirk before handing it to Amelia. “Get
your own fucking beer! This one’s for my girl.”

Amelia raised her eyebrow, intrigued with my statement. Micah mirrored her movement.

“You’ll see, sweetheart,” I told her with a mischievous grin. “You’ll be my girl in
no time.” I looked at my watch and winked. “Probably by the end of the night.”

“Quite confident, aren’t we?” she practically purred.

God, her voice was sexy. How in fuck’s sake I thought she had an annoying voice, I
don’t know, because it was damn near impossible to resist her once her beautiful lips
moved. She was intoxicating as fuck!

“I’m just … um … gonna go over here,” Micah said as he backed up, bumping into Maddy
as he did.

I laughed at his awkward voice. Apparently he was seeing what I was feeling with Amelia.
It was that fucking obvious.

As soon as Amelia and I were somewhat alone again—as much as we could be when the
bar’s packed—I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’m quite confident, by the way.”

She snickered with an adorable grin, but her flushed cheeks were unmistakable. She
was affected by my words, just as I was with hers. I didn’t need any verbal confirmation—she
wanted me just as much as I wanted her. It was crazy as fuck how quickly the spark
between us was growing, but it was there, clear as fucking day. Only a dumbfuck would
deny it, and as much of a stupidshit I was, there was no way in hell that I would
be walking away from this one. I was hooked.

By two in the morning, Amelia and I were quickly moving from flirtatious comments
to wandering, needy hands. We were by no means acting like two hormonal teenagers
eager to get to the next base, but our bodies were definitely finding ways to touch
and our lips were getting dangerously close to connecting. The space between us was
minimal and the hardness in my pants wasn’t going away anytime soon. If anything,
my fucking cock felt like it was going to explode if it didn’t get some relief.

Needing to adjust myself, I walked over to the bar to get us another drink. I poured
two perfect drafts and turned around to see her sexy ass black thong showing above
her jeans. It wasn’t hanging out purposely, like some slutty ass bitches in the bar
have shown, it was peaking out just enough; just enough to get a vivid picture in
my head, the elastic only skimming the top of her jeans, showing the “T” it formed.
Immediately, I was envisioning what the rest looked like—was there a pattern on the
front? How far did it cut down? Was it barely covering her sweet little …

Dammit Merrick! I shook my head. I was about to have a wet dream just by staring at
her, picturing the damn panties alone! This girl … shit, did she do some crazy shit
with my head.

I took a deep breath before walking over. I had to. My sanity was teetering. “Your
thong is showing,” I whispered into her ear before handing her the beer.

Her body visibly sank into the stool as her tongue wet her lips. Another deep breath
was needed. My fucking cock was beginning to ache—that tongue … that mouth … fucking
shit, she was hot!

Amelia’s eyes glanced up, peaking through her thick batting eyelashes, making me melt
even more. “So?” she answered.

Oh man, I was borderline caving, ready to throw her over my shoulder and carry her
upstairs, but there was something holding me back. I couldn’t understand why, because
I wanted her so fucking bad it hurt and I was sick of diverting my horny ass head.
There’s only so many times you can think about baseball—talk about fucking blue balls—but
as much as I wanted to have Micah lock up and carry her away like a caveman, I wanted
to wait just as much. I didn’t know why, but treating her like I just wanted to fuck
her right this second didn’t seem right. Amelia wasn’t just any girl. I wanted to
take my time with her, savor each second. And I really was enjoying just hanging around
and talking and drinking. That can’t be said for other females.

Conversation aside, controlling myself wasn’t easy, and when she looked up at me like
that—Jesus. That girl knew exactly what she was doing with the lost-little-girl eyelash
thing. My hand was already working with a mind of its own, sliding down her back,
slipping under the top of that black thong, pushing it down and away from anyone else’s
eyes. Christ, her skin was warm; it felt like silk beneath my fingers, and I didn’t
want anyone getting a look but me, because that bit of fabric, the sight mixed with
the feeling … Damn. Amelia may not be technically mine, but she definitely was tonight.

Her body immediately went straight, stiffening. I smiled. Hell fucking yeah, I smiled.
She liked my hands on her body so much that she was fighting it, trying to control
the sensation moving within.

Our eyes were glued together, glossed over with a mutual understanding—we wanted each
other … badly. My mind was racing. I wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.
I wanted to just invite her upstairs but I didn’t know how without sounding like a
douche. I was sweating, almost nervous, like a virgin waiting for someone to make
the next move.

Amelia’s eyes drifted to my mouth then carried back to my eyes before she stood from
her stool. “I have to use the bathroom,” she said, her low, warm breath radiating
off my skin.

She was so close that it would have been easy to just lean in and kiss her, and I
wanted to—damn, I wanted to so bad—but I didn’t. I smiled an amused, captivated, douchebag
grin, before responding, “K.”

She stared a moment longer, our faces only inches apart, her teeth clamped on her
lower lip. My chest was visibly rising and falling and my heart was beating out of
chest. And then I did it. I leaned in and placed my lips on hers. They were as soft,
as pure, and just as silky as her skin. She kissed me back, helping my free hand find
the back of her head to hold her in place in front of me.

We stayed like that for minutes. No tongue, just lips, but the most amazing kiss I
had ever had in all of my life—I felt it in every inch of my body—it was real, tantalizing,
and a moment I would never forget.

I ran my hands over my face. I had to stop thinking about Amelia and that night. It
was done. Over. The past. It was just another night with just another girl.

Amelia was just another girl.

The weather was still a little brisk; we were in that last part of the winter where
it was a constant mix of weather—some days warm and some days downright freezing with
the occasional light snowfall. Business was still steady at the bar since it was still
too cold for people to do things outdoors at night. I was glad they spent their time
inside instead. This time of year was when my cash flow/revenue for the bar was at
its highest. Tonight was the night before Easter and one of the busiest nights of
the year for me. For some reason, people liked to get shitfaced the night before a
major holiday. Maybe it was the idea of having to spend the whole next day with family
or just the simple fact that most didn’t have to wake up and go to work. I’d probably
go with both.

My buddy, Micah, always helped out on nights like these. I didn’t trust him behind
the bar—he was a smartass dude, but pouring drinks wasn’t really his forte and he
couldn’t make a mixed drink to save his life. He excelled at keeping glasses clean
and empty bottles off the tables, though, so he was invaluable on a busy night. I
always gave him a good chunk of my tips, too, so he didn’t mind helping out.

The doors opened at nine with Tanner, another buddy of mine, outside checking IDs
and stamping hands. Remembering who I checked on busy nights was a pain in the ass;
having someone at the door was so much easier!

As soon as I flipped the sign to “open,” people started pouring in. It always made
my excitement rise, seeing how many people chose my bar on nights like these. Out
of every bar in New York City, they were sitting at my hole in the wall the night
before Easter. I guess, if given the choice, I’d pick a bar like mine, too. Not because
I’m biased, but because I’m not about to get all fucking dressed up for all those
swanky bars with a dress code. When I want to drink a beer and chill, I want to be
damn comfortable too. And I could care less what people came into my bar looking like—as
long as you were covering your goods and not offending anyone else—come on in!

“What can I get you ladies tonight?” I asked the blonde that stepped forward first.
She was cute, hot even. I’d guess early twenties, but not too early, maybe 23 or 24.

Her eyes surveyed my upper body, raising her eyebrows with an impressed, flirtatious
grin when she got back to my face. I grinned right back. I’m not cocky (I get hit
on regularly), but I chose wisely who I give it back to and this girl … I liked this
one from first glance. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t trashy, and she had impressive
assets. I didn’t particularly need girls to be “gifted” in that department, but I
was a guy—our eyes, hands, mouths … they loved tits—it was just a way of life for
us.

“What do you recommend?” she answered coyly, leaning in, her arms crossed and resting
on the bar, pushing her cleavage up even more.

I tried to keep my eyes up and not drop my gaze; not the easiest fucking thing to
do when they’re presented and begging to be stared at like they were right then, but
I wasn’t a pig and didn’t want her to think that I was. Though, I just wasn’t blind
either, and if you’re gonna prop them like that, you’re gonna get some glances.

I smirked before responding, “Between the Sheets.”

Her eyes sprung open immediately. “Excuse me?”

“You asked for my suggestion. It’s a drink. A popular one, in fact,” I added smoothly,
like I was speaking the obvious.

She nodded her head slowly, her sultry grin back on her face. “I guess I’ll take one
of those then.”

I smiled before picking a clean glass up from under the bar and selecting the required
rum from behind me. She watched attentively as I made it, glancing up at my face periodically.
I kept my attention on the drink but never lost focus of her body language out of
the corner of my eye. I noticed a tattoo on her wrist when I handed her the drink—
no regrets
. Interesting. This was a Y.O.L.O chick for sure—You Only Live Once.

“Seven dollars, sweetheart,” I said after placing an extra napkin on the bar for her.

“Sweet,” she said in reference to her drink before pulling a card from her black clutch,
placing it down on the wood-topped bar. “You can just start a tab.”

“I will. Thanks,” I answered, holding it up before turning to place it next to the
register.

I moved to the next customer when I turned back towards the bar, but made sure I acknowledged
her with a little wink first. I would only give her subtle interest gestures for now.
I wasn’t a play it hard to get guy—not even close. Games were for fucking pussies
and girls- I didn’t have time for that shit. I just didn’t want to seem all in right
away. I wasn’t fucking desperate by any means and didn’t want her to think that I
was.

As I took some more orders, I noticed her and her friends glancing at me and conversing
back and forth. I was getting a whole lot of smiles and flirtatious nods—looks like
I was ranking decent in their Who I’d Fuck little black books.

I shook my head.
Dammit
. Hooking up with chicks from my bar wasn’t something I encouraged, but by damn, the
arrow was pointing in the right direction for me and in situations such as this one—hot
girl, not trashy, totally into me—I was willing to make an exception. She would be
the perfect distraction.