His Taste Of Christmas (Forbidden Tastes #1)

7. Angel

Chapter seven

Angel

“ C an I have two Guinness, two Stellas, a rum and coke, and a vodka and coke, please?” a man at the bar orders.

“Coming right up,” I respond before turning and sorting his order. It’s busy tonight. It’s a Friday, and a Friday in London for all the office workers means one thing: getting completely wasted and then crawling back home.

I have no complaints since we have a great group of customers who consistently fill our tills, which is excellent for business.

Mace is upstairs doing coursework, but if things get hectic, all I have to do is shout and I know she’ll come and help.

I place the drinks in front of the gentleman, and he doesn’t even wait for me to tell him how much before he hands me a few notes.

“Keep the change, love.” I grin and give him an approving nod.

Our rush at the bar continues keeping me and the other bar staff busy. The place is filled with chatter, making it necessary for us to shout and lean over the bar to take orders.

Behind me, Laura shouts my name as I pour a pint. I steal a quick glance at her. Coming over, she raises her voice to shout in my ear. “There's someone over there who wants to talk to you.” She gives a nod in the direction she wants me to look. I delay looking immediately because the pint I'm pouring fills up. I hand it over to the customer and quickly grab another glass to start pulling again as I glance behind Laura, but I don't see anyone familiar.

“Who?” I yell. Laura rotates and rises on her tiptoes, scanning her surroundings.

“He was right there,” she says, glancing over the crowded bar, her eyes narrowing before widening with a small grin. “It was him.” She indicates directly ahead of me. With a flick of my eyes, I'm rendered speechless as a familiar golden stare ignites my heartbeat and sends electric currents pulsing through me. The telltale signs of me not getting off earlier in the shower are all there as just one glance from Mr Hayes and the intense ache between my thighs returns instantly. With a slight nod, he gestures towards the side of the bar.

“Shit,” I mutter as the pint I was pouring overflows, the beer spilling onto my hands. This doesn't faze me since I'm typically soaked in alcohol most evenings. The reason behind that happening is what matters. What the fuck is he doing here?

“Could you wrap up this order, Laura?” I shout. “It’s just two Morettis.”

She nods instantly, picking up a cloth. I head towards the side of the bar, lift the hatch to exit, and close it down. I turn on my heels, only to find Mr Hayes staring at me. I swiftly assess him. Fuck my life . He looks so hot in fitted jeans, trainers and a mid-length Parka coat. My core immediately concurs while my clit throbs.

“Hi, Mr Hayes.” I try my utmost to plaster on a smile that says he doesn’t affect me in any way, shape or form. “How can I help you?” I conceal my smile while he blatantly studies me. It feels like I'm being observed by the way he rakes his eyes over me.

“I haven't received any updates about the booking I made earlier today,” he remarks, glancing at me and lingering on my black fishnet-covered legs. When our eyes meet again, he positions himself at the bar, crossing his feet and leaning on his elbow, like he’s patiently awaiting my reply.

I can't explain why he has such a strong, intimidating effect on me. I become a bundle of nerves when he's around. When Mace told me earlier that he had booked in, she was confused, but, for some reason, so excited that he had.

According to her, her Christmas spirit attracts customers. I was going through an internal meltdown that she had no clue about. How on earth am I supposed to serve over a hundred people with him nearby? I find it challenging enough to take consecutive steps when he’s present, and seeing him in Costco proved that his effect on me hasn’t lessened with time.

My mind races as I think about the seventeen other people included in his booking. Are we talking about a girlfriend and her extended family? That can’t be it, right? The thought of seeing him with another woman would shatter me. I discreetly checked his ring finger while we were in Costco and saw nothing, but that doesn’t ease my anxiety.

“Um, yeah, well, Mace is the one responsible for handling that.” My eyes quickly shift downwards towards my feet. Despite Mace's reservations about seating eighteen people, Carter's involvement gave her confidence in finding a solution. I, on the other hand, was finding every way to consider why it wouldn’t work. Yes, I wanted to see him again, but I definitely didn't want it to be on Christmas Day—the worst day of the year.

I must stop acting so childishly around him, so I quickly lift my head and meet his gaze. With each passing second, my heart quickens.

“Look, I need to get back to work. I have no doubt that Mace will be in touch.” He frowns a little, glancing behind me before a big smile appears.

“Mr Hayes,” Mace says in a much louder volume than required, given that she’s now standing next to us and this side of the bar is a lot quieter.

“Were your ears burning, Macey?” He laughs softly. “And, please, call me Carter.” Well, that's odd. Not once has he given me permission to call him Carter. I observe his unwavering stare on Macey. When he looks at Macey, his eyes light up. Oh my God, I bet he fancies her .

“I'm going back to work,” I inform Mace, squeezing past before I lose it in front of them both.

“I was just asking Angel about my reservation. She said you deal with those.”

Laura comes to the hatch just as I’m about to lift it, determined to avoid hearing any more of Macey and Mr Hayes’ conversation. “Ang,” she interrupts, pulling my attention away, “could you please fetch some glasses? We’re running pretty low.”

I nod quickly, eager for the distraction, and manoeuvre past Macey and Mr Hayes. I make several trips back and forth, leaving the glasses at the bar for someone to load into the dishwasher. Each time I return, I glance around, hoping to see if Mr Hayes has gone.

When I look around again on my last trip, neither Mr Hayes nor Mace are anywhere to be seen. I assume he’s gone and let out a heavy sigh of relief, only to be startled as someone suddenly appears in front of me, pushing me back. In a busy pub, this isn’t unusual, but the feel of fingers on the exposed skin of my waist is.

“Shit. Sorry, Angel.” I look up to find Mr Hayes standing in front of me, his eyebrows knitted together in concern as he studies my face. “Are you okay?”

I nod, unable to find my voice, which seems to be a reoccurring effect around him. His fingers remain on my waist, touching the bare skin through the opening in my pinafore. His jaw tightens, and his expression becomes serious, as if he’s just realized he’s touching me.

I’m almost certain he moves closer to me, his presence becoming an overwhelming force as he stares down at me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. I meet his gaze, refusing to break eye contact, feeling a mix of defiance and anticipation. The pressure of his fingers tightening around my hips sends a shiver through my entire body, the sensation both thrilling and unnerving. Being this close to him makes my heart race, pounding furiously in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. His head lowers slowly, and I become completely motionless, every muscle in my body tensing in anticipation. Oh my God, is he about to kiss me? Is he really going to kiss me in front of this crowded pub? The thought sends a rush of adrenaline through me.

He inches closer, his breath warm and tantalizing against my skin. Just when I think he’s about to press his mouth to mine, he turns his head, and his lips graze my ear. The sensation is electric, sending a jolt through me. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat, my brain momentarily forgetting how to inhale. Everything around me stops; the background noise of the pub fades into oblivion until all I can hear is the relentless thump of my heart. The world narrows down to this single moment, to the feel of his lips against my ear, to the warmth of his breath. Then, his voice blankets even the sound of my heartbeat, enveloping me completely, and I am lost in the sensation.

“Macey took care of my table, Angel, so I guess I'll be seeing you on Christmas Day.” Fuck me. His head pulls back slightly, so he is staring at me, his gaze piercing my very soul. His fingers tighten on my hips as his nostrils flare and his eyes flicker to my lips as he squeezes my hips again, causing a gasp to leave me. He eases up and delicately traces over the spot he was just touching. His head moves again, his breath fanning my neck.

“To express my appreciation for getting us in, I'll bring you candy canes.” His husky voice sends what I can only describe as fireworks going off inside me right now. Every single hair on my body goes to a standing point and I squeeze my legs together as tight as possible, already feeling the wetness between them. The feel of his fingers disappears as I watch him vanish into the crowd. I'm left speechless and feeling as if I'm being consumed by fire. My body's response to his touch is undeniable, as evidenced by the lingering tingle on my hips and the intense sensations between my legs.