Welcome to Sugartown (6 page)

“
Lightweight,” he whispers and the challenge is unmistakable.
It’s true. I am a lightweight, but that’s not why I chose it. The
truth is, I already feel so out of control around Elijah that I
don’t really need the buzz of alcohol to impair my judgement
anymore. “Vodka, lime and soda it is, but next time, I’m buying you
a real drink.”

“
You planning
on getting me drunk so you can take advantage of me,
Cade?”

“
Ana.” He
leans in close, sending a bolt of desire through me as his warm
breath skates across my neck. “When I do finally get you naked
beneath me—and trust me, it’s not a question of if, but when—I’m
going to make sure you haven’t so much as looked at a drink. I want
you to remember everything I do with my hands and my lips and my
tongue.”

My breath
leaves me in a rush. I clutch the edge of the pool table behind me
so tightly I can feel I’m losing circulation in my fingers. I’m
having a hard time believing he’s just whispered something so
intimate in the middle of a packed bar and an even harder time
believing I could be so turned on by it.

Elijah pulls
away slowly, removing his hand that had somehow found its way onto
my hip.
How did I not know his hand was
resting on my hip?
His gaze is locked onto
mine, clearly reading my every thought, because somewhere between
him picking me up earlier this evening and him saying those words
to me just now, the filter between us has vanished.

He smiles,
this playful lopsided grin that makes just one of his dimples pop
out, and just when I think I’m about to melt into a puddle and let
his hands fulfil all the promises he just made, he hands me a pool
cue with a taunt of, “Your break, baby girl” before sauntering off
toward the bar.

I take aim at
the white, imagining that cocky self-assured smile he gave me, and
the table explodes with the thundering crack of scattering balls.
Three find a home in the corner pocket. Elijah turns and cants his
head to the side with a questioning look. I fold my arms in front
of my chest, pushing my boobs up a little, marvelling at how easy
it is to gain his undivided attention. I give my best attempt at a
lopsided grin, like the one he shot me seconds ago. “You’re gonna
regret playing me, Cade. I’m gonna eat you for
breakfast.”

“
Keep looking
like that, baby girl, and I’ll let you eat me for dessert,
too.”

My mouth
drops open into a surprised little “O” and he chuckles and wanders
off to get our drinks.

Once Elijah
returns we begin the first of many games, all of which I win—and
I’m almost 100 per cent certain he’s not holding back on me. In
fact, he’s seems to be trying his best to unnerve me with every
shot I make, but two can play at that game and it isn’t long before
he’s losing the battle of wills and wits.

“
So, where’s
Mummy and Daddy tonight, Ana Belle?” Elijah asks as he breaks on
our eighth game.

“
Out at
another club meet, and please tell me you didn’t just call the
dragon lady my mother?”

His lips tip
up into a crooked smile that forces just one of his dimples to pop
out. “I don’t know, I can see a little bit of a family resemblance
there.”

“
I will hurt
you, Cade.” I lean over the table and take my next shot. My boobs
are spilling out of my top and I take a moment to readjust before I
have a complete wardrobe malfunction—à la Tara Reid. When I glance
up, I find Elijah eyeing me like prey. His gaze clouds over with
lust, but there’s something darker hiding there, too. I haven’t a
clue what it is, but it makes me want to run and throw myself at
his mercy, all at once.

“
I don’t
doubt that for a second, baby girl.”

I sink
another ball into the side pocket and try to pretend he doesn’t
unnerve me. “What about you? Did you leave a string of heartbroken
girlfriends back in … where did you say you were from
again?”

“
Sydney.”

Sydney. Wow.
That only narrows it down to around 12,000 km². Give or
take.

Elijah takes
aim at a ball that’s perfectly aligned to slide into the pocket,
but he slams the cue against it with a loud crack. It ricochets off
the cushion and sinks two of my balls as it slips into the pocket.
“Nope. Don’t do girlfriends.”

“
Oh,” I
mutter, feeling disappointment surge through me.

He’s not
exactly forthcoming.

A commotion
from the pub’s entrance makes me miss my next shot. Elijah glances
between me and the group of guys that just walked in. I don’t have
to look to know that Scott and his posse of tools just arrived, and
that they’re headed straight for us.

One of the
reasons I was so anxious about coming here is because I know that
this is where he and his collection of dickhead friends usually
hang out on a Friday night. Between our awkward arrival and having
so much fun whooping Elijah’s bum, I guess I forgot to be
concerned.

I feel Elijah
watching me and, the closer Scott’s group drifts, the more anxious
I get. He leans in and his warm breath skates the shell of my ear,
sending a shiver down my spine. “Take the shot again, Ana, and this
time forget about the room around you.”

I nod, lean
over and sink my last ball before the eight. Just as I’m raising
myself up off the table I see a hand place a coin against the top
rail. By now, our previous coins have vanished, eaten by the table
in our pursuit of beating one another.

I look up
into pale blue eyes. Scott winks at me, already guessing correctly
that I’m the one winning this game, meaning his coin ensures he
gets to play me next. It wouldn’t matter, I’ve beaten him every
time the two of us have ever played, but he’s doing it to mess with
my head—and, unfortunately, it’s working.

“
Hey,
Blondie.” Scott uses his stupid pet name for me, the one I always
hated. His eyes slide over me from head to toe and I have to
supress the urge to shudder. “Haven’t seen you in a
while.”

“
No, you
haven’t,” I reply harshly. I don’t add the part I’m really
thinking, though.
Not since the night I
turned you down and you called me a cock-blocker and dumped me for
a girl who would “put out”, then spent the last few weeks of our
final year of school telling everyone I was a slut who banged you
and three of your friends.

I feel Elijah
behind me. He slips his arm around my waist and playfully whispers
in my ear, just loud enough for the room to hear, “You’re making me
crazy in this outfit, baby.” Then he stops nuzzling my neck and
nods his head in Scott’s direction. “Who’s this?”

I don’t know
who’s more stunned, Scott or me?

Still, I’m
not stupid enough to not take the boon Elijah is offering. The fact
that he’s deliberately marking his territory by wrapping me in his
arms and calling me baby in front of a boy I trusted who broke my
heart, even if it is mostly for show, sends a thrill through me,
and I can’t help but snuggle into him when I say, “Oh, no one. Just
some guys I knew in school.”

Scott’s eyes
narrow and he thrusts his hand out in front of Elijah, who has no
choice but to step away from me if he wants to shake it. “Scott
Turner.”

Elijah shakes
but doesn’t offer his name.

“
Nice ink
man,” Scott says in a voice like he thinks it’s anything but. He
raises his brow and adds, “Did you get those in Juvie?”

Elijah
smiles, “A few of them, yeah.”

Scott smiles
too, only it’s smug, like he was just trying to prove a point and
is delighted to be right. Elijah cocks his head to the side and
looks thoughtful for a moment before pointing to the tattoo that is
playing peekaboo with his shirt collar. “Though this one was done
in a maximum security joint just outside of Sydney.”

Scott baulks
a little. His friends, who’d been whispering and muttering oooohs
and ahhhhs like the childish morons they are all fall silent. I
glance at Elijah, wondering if that’s true.
It can’t be.
Though I guess it
wouldn’t be the first time my dad gave an ex-con a job.
True or not, I decide that right now, I don’t
care. I’m just so thankful for Elijah’s presence and the fact that
he’s not fazed by an idiot like Scott.

“’
Scuse us a
sec, boys.” Elijah takes my hand and leads me into the hall, which
is kind of pointless, considering there’s a direct line of sight
from the poolroom to where we’re standing. Dissatisfied with the
scene he’s making by dragging me away he pens me in against the
wall. His face is oddly serious when he asks, “Goldilocks in there,
did he screw you over?”

I nod, afraid
he’s going to lose interest once I give him that clarification, and
I’m thanking my lucky stars that Scott and his friends didn’t
mention anything else about me being the town bike.

“
You want me
to beat him up?”

I laugh. “No
Elijah, I don’t want you to get arrested for beating up some moron
from my past.”

“
You wanna
make him so fucking jealous he can’t see straight?” he asks in all
seriousness. It’s absurd. I shouldn’t give a crap about what Scott
and his brainless goons think of me, and yet the idea of shoving
someone as hot—and yeah, okay, pretty damn scary looking—as Elijah
under his nose sends a thrill through me. I find myself nodding,
though the way Elijah’s smiling at me makes me realise that I’ve no
idea what I just agreed to.

“
Then kiss
me.”

“
What? How do
you even know he’s looking?”

“
You, in this
outfit? Trust me, he’s looking.”

“
What’s wrong
with this outfit?” I say, but the words peter off with the way he’s
looking at me. I know that look. That’s the way he looks at my pies
when he comes in for lunch, like he hasn’t had a meal in days. I
want to be the meal.

He leans in,
so close I can feel his warm breath brush my lips. “You gotta kiss
me back.”

“
Huh?”

“
I’m going to
kiss you now and, despite the fact that you don’t like me, if you
wanna make this dickhead jealous, you gotta kiss me with all you
got.”

I can smell
the whisky on his breath. I haven’t touched whisky since I was
seventeen and got so sick I just narrowly escaped having my stomach
pumped. I swore I would never touch the stuff again, and even the
smell usually has me dry reaching, but suddenly I’m finding it a
very welcome scent, and the fact that I’m hyperventilating has
nothing to do with alcohol of any kind.

“
I never said
I didn’t like you. In fact, I don’t know anything about
you.”

“
Ana?”

“
Yeah?”

“
Shut up,” he
says, and mashes his lips to mine. His mouth is hot on mine, and at
first, it’s awkward. I have no idea if I’m kissing Elijah because I
want to make Scott mad with jealousy or if I’m kissing him simply
because I want to. He pulls back to study my face. I try to rein in
my bemused expression, but frankly, I don’t think I’m fooling
anyone. I probably look like a stunned mullet. Elijah looks kind of
intense. Intense and a little angry.

“
That’s all
you got? Seriously? Are you even trying to make him jealous? ‘Cause
I gotta say, I think your method sucks.” I pull his face back to
mine and take him with my mouth. I force my tongue inside while his
eyes are still on me. He’s surprised, but when I clasp my hands
behind his neck and push myself against him, his arm snakes around
my back, his fingers tangle in my hair and he kisses me so hard and
deep we’re practically consuming each other.

Elijah walks
us back a step, until I’m pushed up against the wall. He’s found
his way between my thighs and the pressure of his erection against
my pubic bone elicits a moan from me. “You wanna get outta
here?”

“
Okay.”

He takes my
hand and leads me past the gawking patrons, past Scott and his
idiotic friends, past the smiling publican, Dave, who’s sure to
give my dad a full report tomorrow, and out into the balmy summer
air.

He holds out
a hand for the keys, that I confiscated earlier in the night. “I’m
driving.”

“
Where are we
going?”

“
For a ride.”
He watches as I fumble with the buckle on my chinstrap, hooks his
finger in it and pulls me closer, kissing me as greedily as he did
inside.

“
I don’t
think they’re watching out here,” I say when we come up for
air.

“
That wasn’t
for their benefit. It was for mine.”

I bite down
on my lip to keep the smile from busting out and making me feel
like a complete mental case. Elijah runs his thumb over my lip,
snagging it out from under my teeth and slipping his calloused
thumb inside my mouth. My tongue darts out on its own, grazes the
rough edges, tasting whiskey and leather. He releases a groan and
smiles down at me, but it’s predatory and not all sweet enough for
his dimples to pop out.

He takes a
few steps back toward his bike and then straddles it, his gaze
never once leaving mine. “You have a curfew?”

“
I’m
nineteen, Elijah. Of course I don’t have a curfew.”