Chapter Six
Strong arms bracketed Autumn’s body. One was smooth, bare skin with nothing but a smattering of hair, while the other had artful tattoos telling a colorful story.
Autumn had an irrational urge to trace those tattoos with her fingertips. She was totally blaming that desire on the booze.
She turned her head and looked over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of the man who practically pinned her against the bar.
It was the tattooed hottie.
Only, he wasn’t passed out anymore.
Good for him. But, why in the world was he standing behind her, breathing down her neck like a psycho stalker?
After asking him if she could help him, she wondered how long they could stare at each other without saying another word. In her drunken state, it felt like an eternity.
She was just about to ask him what the hell his problem was when he uttered one word that confused the ever-loving shit out of her drunken mind.
“Mine.”
His voice was gravelly deep and raked over her senses. Goosebumps popped along her arms, and a shiver slithered down her spine. Something buried deep, deep inside her wanted to know if he would use that growly voice against her clit. If he did, would it make her come?
Hello, irrational thoughts!
Now was not the time to ponder climbing into bed with the crazy man behind her. Obviously, his brain cells had been affected by that kick to the nuts. She had always known the little head ruled the bigger one. She just never realized the nuts were the brains of the operation.
Autumn snorted at her silent joke, but tattooed hottie thought she was snorting at him.
He bared his teeth in a snarl and again growled, “Mine.”
What was he, a caveman? And what exactly was his? The stool? Her drink? Hell, was he cranky because she was sitting in his spot? Had he been hit so hard in the junk that it had jarred his head? Because, there was no way he could mean that she was his—or anybody’s—mine.
Looking around, she realized everyone had quieted and was watching them, including the bartender. Goody.
The big, beefy bartender looked worried. He watched so closely she started to wonder if she should be afraid.
Did everyone think this Neanderthal was going to hurt her? Well, they were concerned for the wrong witch! This witch, no matter how drunk, could handle herself! She had spells that would make his great-great-great-grandma squawk like a chicken from the grave.
Still trapped within the growling hottie’s arms, she turned to face him. “What exactly is yours? Because, my happy ass is planted on this stool, so it’s mine.”
A look of amusement passed over his face, his snarl disappearing to be replaced by a smirk. “I don’t want the stool. I want what’s on the stool, love.”
In Autumn’s drunken mind, that just didn’t add up. He wanted what was on the stool? Like, the seat padding? He couldn’t mean her. No way in hell did he mean her.
A bark of laughter escaped the hottie. She liked the way it turned him from menacing to gorgeous.
“Yes, I mean you.”
Holy shit! Was he reading her mind?
Another laugh escaped him. “I’m a wolf, love, not a psychic. You’re saying everything out loud.”
When a few chuckles broke out, Autumn shot a glare at the crowd. For a moment, anyway.
The hottie placed two fingers on her chin and turned her focus on him again. The stubborn part of her wanted to resist, but her instincts told her to submit. It was a bit confusing since she considered herself too headstrong and independent to want to submit to another.
This time, as her eyes connected with his baby blues, she really took him in. He was older than her; the laugh lines around his eyes giving it away. He had strong facial features that kept him from being model pretty, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t beautiful in a rough-hewn sort of way. His hair was cut short and close to his scalp. He had a large tattoo covering his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. She couldn’t help wondering how many more tattoos he had on his body. And what a body it was! His shirt clung tightly to his muscles, and as she peeked down, Autumn could see his jeans clung to his muscled thighs.
Where the men of her coven were GQ pretty, the man in front of her was dangerous and wild. It made her wonder if that meant he was wild in bed, too. And that thought made her lower half clench in need.
Was she that intoxicated that all she could think about was sex when it came to the man in front of her?
Suddenly, he took in a deep breath, then released a low, rumbling growl.
Shit. He could smell her arousal.
Instead of it embarrassing her, his response was a total turn on.
Damn those yummy alcoholic drinks! They had turned her into this wanton hussy!
His eyes glazed over a bit, and then it turned into a lustful, heated look aimed directly at her.
“I think it’s time we go somewhere private, mate.” His voice held more than a hint of his rumbling wolf.
Wait. What did he just say?
Drunk and more confused than ever, Autumn finally spoke. “Mate? Wait, are you Australian? Are you Hugh Jackman? I didn’t realize Hugh really was a shifter.” She leaned forward. “Talk dirty to me, Hugh.”
He lowered his head until their noses touched. She went cross-eyed trying to focus on him.
“How much have you had to drink, love?”
He didn’t sound Australian anymore.
A different, deep rumble behind her answered, “She just finished her third Long Island, man. You might want to take it easy on her.”
That answered the three or four drink question.
The tattooed hottie’s eye twitched before he growled at the bartender, “Why in the fuck would you let her drink that much?”
Totally fascinated by the man in front of her, Autumn didn’t even bother to turn around as the other man answered, “Hey, I took her keys so she couldn’t drive, and I was going to call her a taxi. She was safe up here with me.”
Autumn’s head swam as the alcohol hit her. She swayed in her seat, but she didn’t have to worry about falling because she had those giant, delicious arms surrounding her.
Unable to stop herself, she gave in to the urge and traced the tattoos on his right arm with her fingertips. He tensed under her touch, almost as if she had shocked him. Drunk Autumn didn’t really care. She just kept stroking the artwork with its circles and swirls, following the pattern.
The farther she moved up his arm, the tenser the tattooed hottie became. By the time she reached his elbow, his muscles were as hard as a rock. She wondered if that meant he was hard everywhere.
Tattooed hottie chuckled. “You know you said that out loud again, right, love?”
Confused, Autumn lifted her heavy head and glared at the man. “Said what out loud? And why do you keep calling me love?”
Snorting, he leaned down until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “You asked if I was hard everywhere, and everyone in the bar heard you. To answer your questions, I am hard because of you. And I keep calling you love, because you’re my mate.”
No way.
Autumn couldn’t believe what the shifter was telling her.
He pulled back and stared into her eyes again, waiting for her reply. Only, Autumn was so drunk and confused she didn’t know what to say.
After a few minutes of silence while the crowd still surrounding them watched their every move as if they were a soap opera, Autumn heard a deep sigh from behind her.
“She’s too drunk to understand what you’re trying to tell her, wolf. Here are her keys. Take her home and let her sober up.”
A jingle of metal passed by her. It took Autumn more than a few seconds to realize the bartender had tossed her keys to the hot, tattooed man.
No, not a man … a wolf. That was what the bartender had said.
Tipping her head back, she looked at the tattooed hottie, trying to focus the blurry image with all her might. “Did he just call you a wolf?”
“Yes, love.”
“Huh. Does that mean you’re a wolf shifter? Like, woof-woof?” Whoa, he got a thousand times blurrier!
After a deep sigh, he answered, “Yes, love.”
Autumn tried to picture the man in front of her as the canine variety and came up with an image of a puppy playing with its butt in the air, eager to fetch a ball then prance around with it in his mouth.
She giggled at the thought.
“Do you play fetch?”
The crowd around them roared with laughter. Autumn was too damn drunk to realize they were laughing at her, not with her. Not that she would have had time to notice.
The wolf shifter caging her in took a step back, wrapped his arms around her waist, and then tossed her over his shoulder.
Next thing she knew, she was being carried out of the club, fireman style, with a view of wolf man’s butt in her face.
And what a very nice butt it was!