The Langfield Brothers: Box Set

3. Gavin

THREE

GAVIN

“How do you feel about tequila?”

“Makes my clothes fall off, but I’m not opposed,” I tease.

She grins and taps her lip as if she’s trying to decide whether that’s a good thing. “Eh, what the hell. Mikey, give us two shots of Jose.”

I scoff. “Mikey, top shelf, please.”

She giggles. “So bougie. Okay, tell me something else about you.”

“How come you keep getting things out of me but you still won’t give me your name?”

She shrugs one shoulder and tilts her head to the side in this cute little way, like she knows I’m obsessed and enjoying myself.

“Um,” I say, because, of course, I can’t deny her. “I have three brothers.”

“ Oh , are they hot?”

“Not as hot as me.”

She giggles. “That’s what everyone says.”

“Is that what you’d say about your siblings?”

She bumps her shoulder against mine. “I see what you’re doing. Trying to get me to divulge personal details.”

I laugh. “Of course. You’ve given me nothing so far.”

“And yet I have a feeling you’ll take everything,” she sings softly, a gorgeous smile lighting up her face.

When Mikey places two shots in front of us, I scan the surface of the bar. “No lime?”

“Aw, you need a chaser, do ya?” she teases.

With a sigh, I clink my shot glass against hers and then, without looking away from the vixen by my side, I toss it back.

It burns on the way down, enough to make me wince, but her expression remains neutral, so I school mine too.

“What do you think? Tequila your drink?”

I cough out a laugh. “Fuck no.”

“Ready to go back to whiskey and admit that you’re just a whiskey guy?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” I cock a brow at her. “So what if I am? Does that make me boring?”

She shrugs, the picture of innocence. “You said it, not me. You go to the same bar most nights. Drink the same drinks. I bet the only thing that changes is the woman you sleep with from one night to the next.”

Another cough of a laugh escapes me. “Women don’t sleep in my bed.”

She smiles like she’s proud of herself. Like I just proved her point.

I close my eyes in defeat. “That came out wrong.”

“But did it? Think about it, Gavin. When was the last time you took a risk? Really did something you weren’t supposed to?”

The taunting in her tone doesn’t seem intentional. I may be conjuring it myself because I agree with her. When was the last time I took a real risk?

Fuck it. I like this girl, and I want to kiss her. So with a hand on the edge of her barstool, I pull her close.

She inhales sharply as she watches me, and then she licks her bottom lip. Another taunt. Another dare.

I wrap my hand around her neck and press closer.

Her eyes are wide and full of heat. “What are you doing?”

Instead of responding with words, I press my lips to hers in answer.

I’m kissing her. That’s what I’m doing. Kissing a woman I really want to kiss. Not because she’s gorgeous or because I want to get laid tonight. Those are truths, yes, but I kiss her because I like that she sees through the show I normally put on and calls it like it is. Because she’s the first person in months to make me want to take a risk. To make me want to make the effort.

Her soft whimper as I slide my tongue against hers has my heart beating wildly in my chest. In response, I suck on her tongue, which only makes her moan louder.

“Now tell me your name,” I murmur against her mouth. I don’t give her a chance to respond, though, before kissing her again.

Fuck, I can’t stop. Her lips are pillowy soft, and she tastes like a fucking dream. Don’t even get me started on her fucking sounds. Her soft, warm skin beneath my fingertips is the most comforting thing I’ve felt in months. Maybe years. And it’s right up there with the way she allows me to hold her close. Every single second with my lips against hers is perfect, and I don’t want it to end.

She pulls back and takes a heady breath, her eyes locked on mine. “No.”

I’m not even surprised. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to call you Peaches.”

She quirks a brow. “Why’s that?”

“Because of how you taste.” I lean in and kiss her again, groaning at the flavor of her on my tongue. Peach and tequila and her .

“Thought you hated the drink,” she teases.

“And yet it’s my favorite thing when it’s mixed with you.” Unlike the drink, she’s made for me.

She eases back and, lashes lowered, gives me just a hint of a coy smile.

“Makes me wonder what you taste like in other places.”

That smile turns challenging. “And you think you’ll have the opportunity to find out?”

“Oh, I know I will. The question is, will I lay you out on my bed to do it? Or maybe my kitchen counter, or the bathtub? Or maybe, since you seem a bit sinful, you’d prefer out on the terrace?”

The way her eyes flare at my last suggestion tells me precisely where she wants it.

“Oh, you’re a greedy little thing.”

“I haven’t even agreed to another kiss,” she whispers, even as the smile on her lips and the desire in her eyes make it obvious she’s begging for another one.

I’d like to see her beg. That thought has need ripping through me.

It only compounds with my next thought. Because, fuck, I’d like to get down on my knees and beg for her.

Keeping my focus fixed on her, I slide my card over to the bartender. “I’ll cover the bill of every person in the bar right now, plus I’ll tack on a 40 percent tip for you and every other employee working tonight if you can clear the place in fifteen minutes.”

Peaches’ golden eyes glow in excitement. “Whoa, money man. You know that’ll probably cost you ten grand, right?”

The bartender, who’s tapping away at the touch screen behind the bar like he wants to get my request processed before I change my mind, coughs out a laugh. “More like a hundred.”

“Grand?” she cries, her eyes going wide. “Are you insane? Tell him to stop.”

I simply lean back and smile. “Totally worth it.”

“Why? What in God’s name do you think I’ll do to you that would warrant dropping over a hundred thousand dollars so you can spend time alone with me?”

I sip my drink as I study her. She’s beautiful. Her skin is tinged pink from the alcohol and from her outrage over my extravagant spending.

“It’s not about what you’ll do to me. It’s what I’m going to do to you.” I lean in until my lips brush the shell of her ear. “I’m going to lay you out on this bar, and then I’m going to pull off your panties and drink right from the tap.”

She scoffs, but it’s breathy and sensual. “What?”

“Yes. I’ve finally decided on what I want, and it’s not on this menu. It’s you. One kiss told me the only thing that will satisfy me is you. That spot between your legs, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re insane. That’s—” She shakes her head, the move jerky. “That’s disgusting.”

That only pulls a laugh from me. She doesn’t truly believe that.

“Really? You’re telling me that the idea of me licking you clean, the idea of me using my tongue to play with your clit and pressing my fingers against your G-spot is disgusting ?”

The color in her cheeks has darkened, and her chest is heaving now.

I push closer and twine my fingers through her long, wavy hair. Grasping the back of her neck, I tug her so close that when I speak, my lips brush hers. “You telling me that my tongue on your pussy isn’t exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you sat down next to me? That you didn’t come to this bar with that plan in your head?”

Her lips part on an exhale, her warm breath fanning my face.

With a groan, I lick at the seam, all while keeping my eyes open. “You telling me that you haven’t been fantasizing about me fucking you since the moment you sat down next to me? That the mere thought of it doesn’t have you dripping for me right now?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, you’re telling me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind? Or yes, you’re admitting that if I slid my hand up your dress and dipped my fingers between your legs right now, I’d feel just how drenched you are for me?”

“That,” she stutters. “That one. Yes.”

“Mmm.” Grasping her thigh, I lean back and holler “you’ve got five minutes” to the bartender.

And then my lips are on hers. The room around us goes hazy as we exchange kisses for oxygen, our desire for one another overpowering common sense. Common decency. I slide both hands up her legs to her waist and pull her close, positioning her between my thighs. No one but me gets to see the way her nipples pebble beneath this slinky black dress. No one but me gets to see the way she grinds down against the chair, needy and ready.

And as soon as I hear the snick of a lock at the front of the bar and the slam of the door in the back, I pull her up onto the bar and make good on my promise. I push her back, shove her dress up to her hips, and pull down her panties. Then I feast.