Wunderbar was lit up like a riverboat, light pouring from every door and window into the warm night. Music filled the bar, and I was already run off my feet. Bob was down the far end of the bar, pulling pints as fast as he could, and I was trying to bus glasses back from the packed tables, and mix drinks at the same time. It wasn’t going very well, and several times I’d had to ask people to repeat their orders after a sudden emergency had driven their first order from my head.

Why the hell didn’t I get some temporary help? I berated myself as I almost-ran a tray of empty pint glasses back to the bar and dumped them into the rapidly filling sink. Behind me, the first of the music acts was just kicking off; the evening hadn’t even started yet, and the place was already nearly full. This was going to be a great night for takings, as long as I didn’t have a nervous breakdown before the end of it.

“Hey, Cat!” Bob waved an arm at me. “Running out of pint glasses! Got any more?” I looked under the bar. Uh-oh. There were some more upstairs, but it’d take some time to get them, and I had two Cosmos and a Long Island Iced Tea to make.

I really hate people who order complicated drinks on a busy night.

“Hold on, Bob. Hang in there.” Positive attitude, but a bar with no pint glasses has a really, really big problem. I wiped my brow with the serving cloth, and immediately regretted it as cold, beery liquid smeared across my fringe.

And this is just the start of the evening. Turning, I waved apologetically at an approaching patron in what I hoped was a sorry-we’ll-take-your-order-in-just-a-moment gesture and set off at a run for the stairs. If I could get the pint glasses down for Bob, that’d give me a breathing space to get those drinks done, and then maybe—”

“Hey, can I help?” Halfway up the stairs, I saw Ryan at the top.

I shook my head. “It’s okay, thanks. Just really busy. I need those glasses in the store-room.”

He turned and walked with me along the narrow corridor. “C’mon, I’ll give you a hand to carry them down. It’ll be quicker with the two of us.”

I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Each carrying a tray of glasses, we descended the staircase just as the scrawny singer-songwriter who was first up on stage for the night struck the opening chords of a song on his guitar. About half the crowd were paying attention to him, but for those who noticed, the arrival of the trays of beer glasses seemed to produce more of a cheer.

“Man.” Ryan slotted the glasses in under the counter, next to the beleaguered Bob, who nodded gratefully and grabbed four of them. “It’s seriously busy down here.”

“Uh-huh.” I went to wipe my brow again, but stopped myself just in time. “Earnings will be great if we can survive it, which is touch-and-go at this point.” I slipped past Ryan and went back to the customers waiting at the bar. “Sorry to make you wait, guys. Now, it was two Cosmos and a Long Island, right?”

As I sliced limes with one hand, and poured cranberry juice with the other, I felt Ryan standing behind me. Resisting the urge to grind back into him—not in front of everyone, Cat—I moved out of the way to let him past, but he didn’t go anywhere.

“Hey, let me help.” His voice was low, but insistent.

I sighed. “Thanks, but honestly, we’ll cope.”

“Cat, don’t be crazy. You and Bob are getting slammed here, and if you want this to be a success, you’re at least a man short.”

I carefully ignored the innuendo and fished ice out of the bucket. Did he mean it that way? “I don’t have time to train you to do stuff.”

“Well, guess what?” Ryan coughed not-very-modestly. “Turns out the other vacation job I had was working in a bar. So I’m not a complete beginner. Just tell me where things are, and I’ll manage.”

I was doubtful. Is this a good idea? What happens if he screws something up? I felt his hand on my shoulder, and tried not to shiver again.

“Come on, Cat. You need help, and I’d really like to do something to thank you for…taking me in.” He looked at me steadily. He really does mean it. “I know I’ve messed up your life, and I’m grateful for your understanding, okay? I’d like to do something to even the score, and maybe improve your opinion of me a little.”

I glanced over at Bob, passing out pints as fast as he could fill them. As I did, one of them slid perilously close to the edge of the bar.

Eeegh. If we keep going at this rate we’re going to make mistakes anyway.

“Okay, let’s give it a shot. You man the bar station here, and I’ll work the tables.” Slamming a cocktail shaker down on the bar-top, I filled it with more ice, screwed the top on and shook it as fast as I could. Sorry people, this ain’t gonna be the best Cosmo I’ve ever made, but it’ll do.

Ryan stood back. “Okay. Have you got an apron or something?”

“Second shelf down next to the sink. Now, here’s your induction, so pay attention. Ice is down there. Glasses go here, dirty ones over there. Trash is in that hole. Don’t use the hot tap because it’s broken. Oh, and sometimes the soda dispenser gets stuck and you have to give it a whack to make it go again. That’s it.”

He saluted. “Aye aye, Captain. Thanks for trusting me.”

“Thanks for helping.” I let out a breath. In front of me, the music swelled, and the crowd pushed forward toward the stage. The singer might have been a bit scrawny, but he had a pretty good voice, and the crowd were warming to him. “Just do the best you can, okay? If you need help, come and ask me or Bob.”

“Will do.” Ryan clapped his hands together, looked up and caught the attention of a customer. “Evening, guys. What can I get you?”

As I worked, I snatched a few moments when I could to watch Ryan, and I had to admit I was impressed. He was good with customers, laughing and joking with them as he worked fast and efficiently, mixing cocktails, cleaning the bar, and on one occasion catching a rather drunk girl’s wine-glass as she knocked it off the bar-top, and before it hit the floor, without spilling a drop.

“W-wow,” the girl slurred, looking at Ryan adoringly. “You’re really good at thish, you know tha’? Good with your hands, I mean.” She batted her eyelashes at him heavily.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Ryan cocked his head. “All part of the service. Now, perhaps I could get you a soda water. Or maybe a Coke?”

I was busy myself, running back and forth to tables with drinks, and keeping both Bob and Ryan stocked with supplies, but having him working alongside eased the pressure. The queues of customers waiting for drinks got shorter, and the influx of cash into the register increased significantly. Pretty soon, Ryan had a crowd of female admirers who made a beeline for him when they came up to order drinks; I was alarmed to realize I was feeling a tiny flicker of jealousy, but it got easier to handle when I saw the amount of money they were tipping him.

“Hey, Cat!” Jack Collis, the taxi-driver was at the bar, bald head gleaming in the lights from the stage. “Looks like you’ve got a new employee.” He gestured to Ryan, who was wielding a shaker theatrically for a group of admiring women.

“Evening, Jack.” I nodded. “Yeah, he’s just on for the night. He’s actually doing really well. Can I get you a beer?”

“Absolutely.” Grasping the pint glass I slid to him, he looked around. “Busy tonight. The music thing’s going really well, huh?”

The first act had gone off, to now-enthusiastic applause, and after playing two encores, and the second one was setting up. The break in between acts had brought a new rush of people to the bar wanting to refill their drinks before the next one.

“Yeah, I’m really glad people are enjoying it.” When I’d bought the place, I had dreamed of doing something with it that would encourage people to come in for more than just drinks. I’d wanted it to become a social spot as much as a bar, and with the music events, I felt like I was finally achieving it.

Ryan slipped past behind me, ice-bucket in hand. “Behind you! Hey, Jack.” He nodded to the taxi-driver. “Looks like I’m going to have to serve you that beer as well as buy it for you. Man, this is a tough town.”

“Ryan! Good to see you.” Jack’s cheerful nature made most people warm to him quickly, and Ryan evidently liked the older man.

“Evening, boys.” Behind Jack, Nick Vette approached, clapping the older man on the shoulder and smiling at me. “Hi, Cat. This is really great; I’m so pleased it’s worked out for you.”

“Thanks, Nick. Do you guys know each other? Nick, this is Ryan.”

Ryan came back past me, and waved. “Hey man, good to see you again. Can I get you a beer as well? Jack, you want another? On me.”

“Sounds good; I’ll have whatever you suggest.” Slim and fair-haired, Nick was shorter than Ryan, but he moved easily, with a wiry strength. Ryan pushed two pints across to the men, while I sluiced glasses with one hand, and attempted to crush mint with the other.

“What do you do, Nick? You said you were a teacher?” Ryan started pulling two more pints as he talked.

“Yep. Elementary school, although I teach some community college classes as well; self-defense and stuff.” Nick took a long swallow of his beer, nodding as he did so. “Damn, that’s good; it’s been a long week.”

“But you grew up here in Cable Bay, right?” Beer flowed into more glasses; Ryan’s ability to make cheerful conversation while he worked at speed was impressive.

He really is good at this. Shame he didn’t go into hospitality instead of archaeology.

“I did, then I went away to train as a teacher. I always wanted to come back here and settle, so when the job came up, I jumped at it.”

Jack leaned forward and shook his finger at Nick. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example for students, instead of drinking in the pub?”

“Screw you, Collis.” Nick was unmoved. “One, it’s a Saturday night and even teachers get weekends. Two, I’m here for the music. Three, sometimes the students are why I’m drinking in the pub.”

Ryan leaned on the bar momentarily, grinning at them. “Dude, that’s profound. Cable Bay is indeed fortunate to have a man of your wisdom in charge of the next generation of young minds.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Nick picked up his beer. “Come on, Jack; these guys are busy, and we should let them work.”

Jack nodded. “You’re right, Obi-Wan. Have a good evening, Ryan, and don’t let the boss—” he jokingly indicated me, “ride you too hard.”

I flicked a towel at him. “Get out of here, you two. Go on and drink your beer, and stop fomenting labor trouble among my staff.”

The evening wound on, and we worked steadily, pausing occasionally to watch one of the musicians or exchange a few words with a local about how well everything was going. We moved around each other with an easy familiarity, touching each other on the shoulder or on the hip to let the other know they were there, and tossing things back and forth to each other across the narrow space.

Ryan was a continuing hit with the customers, I realized, and not just the female ones; he talked with the guys, defused the odd noisy disagreement by throwing in a joke, and all the while, kept working, cheerful and durable. Now and again, he would make eye contact with me, and smile. This time it wasn’t the half-amused I’m-pretty-and-I-know-it smile. Oh no, this was much worse. This was warm and genuine, the smile of someone who was on your team and encouraging you to keep going, telling you that he had your back. Somehow, that made it even harder not to think about him kissing me again.

No. He’s a good teammate, that’s all. What would it be like to have him here all the time? Dammit, not now.

I looked up at the two short ladies approaching the bar, blue rinse shining in the reflected gleam of the stage lights, clutching their knitting.

“Two more glasses of Farrah’s rosé, my dear.” Harriet and Matilda were devoted customers, and often spent most of Saturday afternoon ensconced in one of the booths, working their way determinedly through a significant amount of Foxworthy Vineyard’s finest, and knitting something undefinable. I’d always secretly wanted to ask what the hell it was they were knitting, but thought it would be rude after six months of them coming here.

“Coming right up, ladies. I hope the music isn’t disturbing you?”

Harriet shook her head with a movement best described as ferocious. “No way. The Knitting Circle meets every week, no matter what. We’re not letting a bunch of musicians put us off.” She somehow managed to pronounce the capital ‘K’ and ‘C’.

I couldn’t help smiling as I poured the wine. “Can it really still be a circle when there’s only two of you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Semantics. We’re on a recruiting drive.” Matilda slapped down some cash on the bar with a forcible thump. “Keep the change, my dear.” They tottered back to their booth, needles already moving.

“Hey, Cat!” Ryan was in front of me again. “Have we got any more limes? We’re running low.”

“Shit. Maybe in the freezer we’ve got some preserved lime juice? It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. I’ll check; you stay here.”

As I returned with the lime juice, I could see a group of girls trying to pull Ryan onto the dance floor, tugging at his apron. He fended them off with a smile, and they departed disappointed.

“Here’s the lime juice. Looks like you’re popular with the girls.” I tried not to sound envious.

He shrugged. “If you’re a male bartender, sometimes it’s like being the only wildebeest at the watering hole when a pride of lions turns up. It’s not really you as a person they’re interested in. Besides, I’ve got a prior commitment.” He turned to me. “Not going to abandon my boss when she’s in her hour of need, am I? ‘Course, if you ordered me to dance, I’d dance.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you would, would you? I didn’t know I had that much authority.”

“Absolutely; once I give myself to a job, it’s one hundred percent commitment. Mind you, you’d have to dance with me.”

“Oh, now you’re expecting me to dance as well?” I shook my head emphatically. “Not dancing, nohow. Besides, I’m not sure you could handle quite that much style and rhythm in one package.”

Ryan pushed another couple of drinks across the bar to waiting customers and winked at me. For some reason I couldn’t quite place, it worked better this time. “Try me. You might find I’m full of surprises.”

* * *

As the last customers stumbled out the door, I looked around the tables. It actually isn’t as much of a disaster zone as I’d feared it would be. Gently extricating a couple of glasses from tipsy patrons as they made their way outside, we surveyed the scene.

“Are they all going to be okay?” Ryan was beside me, wiping down the bar-top with a cloth. Bob, clearly exhausted, slumped at one of the tables.

“Yeah, I think so.” I’d seen a number of sober drivers throughout the evening, and our policy of free soft drinks for the designated driver had meant there was never really a shortage of people willing to drive, especially young people who were periodically short on money. If you didn’t have money for beer, a free evening of music just for the price of a tank of gas was a pretty good deal. “I didn’t see anyone who didn’t either have someone to drive them home, or lived within walking distance, anyway.”

“Good. So, boss,” Ryan bowed ostentatiously, “whaddya think? How did I go on my first night?”

“As much as I hate to give you another reason to be pleased with yourself,” I frowned at him, “yeah, you did. We wouldn’t have coped without you.”

Ryan made a fist and punched the air. “Yes!”

“But, don’t go getting ideas. You’re still paying me for that room, remember?” I said it with a smile, and Ryan rolled his eyes at me.

“Man, talk about labor exploitation. This is shocking. Hey, Bob, how are you doing?” He called across to where the older man sat, both hands on the table.

“Okay, man. Pretty tiring night though.” Bob’s face was drawn, and his eyelids drooping. “Hold on, I’ll get to sweeping the floor.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. You should go on home before you fall asleep right there.”

“Are you sure, Cat? I don’t want you to have to do it all.” Bob struggled to his feet, but I cut him off, gently propelling him toward the door.

“No way. You’re out on your feet, and despite what the rest of the employees claim—” I jerked my head at Ryan, who rolled his eyes again, “I am a caring boss. Can you make it home alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, Cat.” Bob disappeared out the door and into the night, evidently glad to be done. As he left, Ryan finished wiping down the bar, and tossed the damp cloth into the laundry bag sitting by the foot of the stairs. He turned, and saw me watching him.

“So, are you happy with how things turned out?” He walked toward me, and leaned against the bar.

“Definitely. I think that was our biggest night yet. Although,” I stretched, painfully, “I’m glad it’s over, that’s for sure. Look, thanks again for helping out.”

He smiled, warm and unfeigned. “Actually, it was a lot of fun, being part of a team again. My work is usually pretty solitary, but I’d forgotten how good it was to have someone backing you up. I’ll be a little sorry when I’m back down in the basement on my own tomorrow.”

“Backing you up? I nearly backed into you a couple of times.”

Another smile, this one a little more arch. “I wouldn’t have minded that.”

Mmmm. I felt a sudden tingling, but I tried to ignore it.

I am Miss Restraint. I am not thinking about what I am thinking about right now. “Looked like those girls were pretty keen for you to back into them. Or something.”

“Ha. Well, it’s nice to be appreciated, but like I said; wildebeest, watering hole, lions. I try not to let it go to my head. Besides,” he inclined his head, “the boss would have killed me.”

“She might at that. Now,” I turned to the bar, “can the boss offer you a drink? High though her standards are, you’ve earned it.”

Ryan took a seat at the bar. “She can indeed, but I insist that she has one with me. I watched her work her ass off tonight, and I must say I was impressed.”

“Why, thank you. Rye and dry?”

“Great.”

As the last of the ice clattered into two tumblers, I looked at Ryan, elbows propped on the bar, looking out the window. He was tired and sweaty, but he had the satisfied glow of someone who’s done a day’s worth of hard work, and come out the other side. I guess he wasn’t just being polite when he said he enjoyed it.

“Here you go; rye and dry.”

“Thanks, boss. Your health.” As our glasses clinked together, I leaned into him. He smelled of cologne and rye, and I couldn’t help but enjoy this little moment of closeness.

“You know, Dr. Sanders, you’re quite the renaissance man. Tending bar, woodwork, helping elderly ladies; it’s a surprise you don’t wear your underwear on the outside and sport a cape.”

“Huh. I’m not sure if even I could carry that off. But your vote of confidence is noted; if I contemplate a career change to superhero, I’ll come to you for support. Besides,” Ryan took a sip from his glass, and licked his lips, “you’re not so bad yourself; what was it you said about style and rhythm in one package?”

“Well, that was my dancing. Which you haven’t seen.”

“There’s no time like the present.” He gestured to the floor in front of the stage.

“—and are not going to see. Ever.”

Ryan put his glass down. “Oh, really? Come to think of it, you did make some pretty bold statements about my inability to handle said style and rhythm, in said package, earlier in the evening. We were getting slammed at the time, as I recall, or I would have called you out on them. Care to back them up now?”

I scoffed, or did my best to make a scoffing sort of noise. “I must have put more rye in your drink than I’d intended. If you think you’re going to goad me into dancing…”

“That. Is exactly what I’m going to do, Cat Milsom. And you want to know something?”

I leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other, and looked sideways at him. “What, Doctor Ryan Sanders?”

“It’s going to work. You want to know why?”

“Do enlighten me.”

“Because, as you said on the very first night we met, you think you know exactly what kind of guy I am. And that, as it happens, is your problem.”

“You’re my problem.” I poked him in the chest. “One great big walking hunk of problem, is what you are. Stuck here in my bar.” With broad shoulders, and narrow hips, and looking unexpectedly sexy in that apron with your sleeves rolled up. I blinked, and hoped he didn’t notice.

“I’m going to politely accept your use of the work ‘hunk’ at this point.” Ryan waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I stifled a giggle.

“It’s like a horror movie: old bar has a terrible secret lurking in the basement. Except the terrible secret is an archaeologist with an overinflated sense of his own appeal.”

“Now that comment,” he picked up his glass again, and looked at me over the top, “I will rise above. But that isn’t quite what I mean. What I mean is that now you can’t stand to be wrong in your—quite unfair, I might add—character assessment. You just have to be right that I’m some kind of irresponsible bad-boy, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m right about the irresponsible part, that’s for sure. Not that it was difficult to spot the first time you kissed me.”

He clapped both hands to his chest in a gesture of shock. “Hold on. You kissed me, as I recall. I was minding my own business—”

“You were staring at my ass, you mean.”

“I was not! Well, maybe a bit. Yeah. Okay, I was. A bit.” He didn’t look at all contrite. “I just didn’t expect to be, well, suddenly overwhelmed. Right in the alcove, too. Not,” Ryan held up a hand quickly as I attempted to poke him in both eyes at once, “that I’m complaining. Far from it.”

“Yeah, you’re such a model of forbearance and gentlemanly conduct.” I frowned at him, but the look in his eyes made my breath catch.

Miss Restraint. Calling Miss Restraint. Has anyone seen her?

Something had happened to this conversation a few sentences back, and parts of me were getting worried, while other parts were very much enjoying it. “Not for you to take advantage of a lady in her own bar, right?”

“Noooo. Not unless she would really like me to.”

“How noble of you.” I sighed theatrically and swirled the ice in my drink. “In any case, your claims of decency and propriety make me fearful for your health if you were to see me dance. The shock might be too much for you.”

Am I saying this out loud? You are a very bad woman, Cat Milsom, and you are only making trouble for everyone with this line of discussion.

“Now that is a risk I’m willing to take.” Ryan’s expression could only be called a smirk.

I looked at him over my glass. “I’m a doctor, remember? I took an oath to first do no harm. If something were to happen to you, I,” I took a deep breath, and Ryan’s eyes widened quite satisfyingly, “why, I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Would you like me to sign a disclaimer, or what? Life is risk. Hand me a pen and paper.”

“Hmm.” I was inexplicably aware of the fit of my jeans, of the fabric of my top against my skin. Ryan’s eyes were on me, and this time he wasn’t really bothering to be subtle about it. The air felt warm between us. “I guess that counts as informed consent.”

“I can assure you I’m of sound mind and…body. Show me what you’ve got on the dance floor, boss.”

Dammit. What the hell. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything irresponsible before. Except for, you know, the last time I did, with the this very same guy.

Standing up, I wiggled my hips. “Are you sure?”

“I am extremely sure.” His eyes didn’t leave me, and right now, I really didn’t want them to.

Reaching behind the bar, I flicked the switch on the stereo, and music filled the bar again. By now, all the patrons had long since departed the area, and we were well and truly alone.

“You’d better follow me, then, Dr. Sanders.”

* * *

Walking to the dance floor, I felt the music coming through the floor, rising up through my heels and into my body. I started to dance on my own, swinging my hips, and turning to watch Ryan over my shoulder. He was gripping the bar-top as if trying to keep from flying away, watching me intently. I breathed in; the night air was intoxicating, to the point where I almost had to steady myself.

Right now, I want him to want me. Right now, I want him to want me more than he wants anything else in the world.

We were on top of a freight train, barreling through the darkness; Ryan was a couple of yards away, but I could tell from here that he didn’t want to get off any more than I did.

“You seem a little distressed, Dr. Sanders.” I hooked one thumb into my belt, and slid my other hand up my thigh, watching him.

He growled and stood up. “Damn. You are even more impressive when you’re out from behind that bar.” Striding toward me, his arms went around my waist—just like that, without asking. God, yes—and we moved together. I ground against his knee, and pulled him into me, urgent and hungry.

“Mmm, very impressive,” Ryan muttered into my ear as I pushed into him. “I continue to be surprised by your talents.” Quite slowly, he bent his head and put his lips on my neck. I moved with him, tilting my head back to give him more access to my throat. “Oh, you have no idea about my talents, believe me.”

Inside me, a part of me still couldn’t believe what I was saying.

What the hell? I keep telling myself I’m going to be friendly and professional, and all of a sudden I’m turning into this siren, telling him about my ‘talents’. His kisses on my neck were drowning out what little common sense I had left, and I couldn’t help moaning as he kissed me harder.

“Damn, that’s sexy.” Ryan pushed his knee harder between my thighs, and I slid up and down on him, getting more and more horny by the minute. His kisses progressed across my collar-bone, from one bare shoulder to the other, feeling like fire on my skin.

I slid one hand up underneath his shirt, feeling his muscles strain against me.

Bam. Miss Restraint has well and truly left the building.

It was like a dam had burst; all the memories of the kisses we’d shared, all the times I’d looked at Ryan and wondered what it would be like to have him right here, all the momentary fantasies right up to the edge between us, all came together in one moment. This is really happening, right now, and I don’t want to stop.

Without any conscious thought, my other hand went down to the bulge in his pants, and he growled in response. “You keep doing that, you’d better be buying and not just looking.”

“Oh yeah?” I massaged his hardness, feeling him urgent against me. “You…mmm…you’re damn right I’m buying if this is what you’re selling.” My fingers found his zipper and slid it down with a soft metallic noise. “How about an inspection of the merchandise?”

Ryan’s hands were twined in my hair, tilting my head back, and his mouth was on my neck again, kissing hard enough to leave a mark.

I’m going to have to wear a scarf for a few days after this, especially around Farrah, I thought, but my own desire swept any more thoughts away as I slid my hand into Ryan’s pants, and slipped my fingers around him, stroking him rhythmically to the music. Now it was his turn to gasp. “Fuuuck, Cat…”

Around us, the music continued to pulse, but I hardly heard as much as sensed it, pushing into me, driving me to do things I’d never thought of doing. I looked up at him, my hand still on him, almost unable to believe what I was doing.

“Is this—are we really…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Ryan raised his head from my neck, and looked right at me. I saw the same look of amazement in his eyes, and he smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we are. Really. Are we?”

Rather than answer, I kissed him again, and he pulled us toward the bar, almost hopping. Turns out it’s hard to walk when you’ve got your hand in a guy’s pants. Who knew?

I reluctantly released my hold on him, and he swung me around, grinning wickedly. “I think you deserve a dose of your own medicine.”

Wait, what? Oh, hell. Now I’m in trouble. Before I knew what was happening, he’d expertly slipped open my belt, and popped the buttons off my fly, one by one. His strong hands slid beneath the waistband of my jeans, stroking the smooth skin on my hips, and my breath caught in my throat. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him as his hands roamed over my ass, searching, hungry.

“Damn, that’s really good,” he muttered. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night, you know.”

Even through the haze of my lust, I couldn’t help smiling. “You should have told me earlier, and I’d have put on more of a show for you.” I whimpered a little as his hand slipped inside my panties, and gently grazed my clit.

He grunted, hoarse with desire. “Believe me, every time you walk away from me in those jeans, you’re putting on quite the show as it is. Now, enough talking from you.” Gripping my thighs, he hoisted me up onto the bar, making me yelp in surprise.

“What the h-” Another kiss stopped my mouth, and Ryan shook his head.

“The only thing I want to hear from you right now are noises of appreciation, Cat Milsom.” Pushing me back onto the bar-top, his fingers hooked my jeans, and in one movement he slipped them down off my thighs, tossing them behind him. I would have shivered in the evening air, but I was too lost in my own desire to even notice. My shoes had clattered onto the floor in a heap with my jeans and panties, and now I was naked from the waist down, exposed to him.

Ryan let out a low growl of arousal. “Hell, yeah. That’s exactly what I want.” I was wet already, and as he spread my legs, I couldn’t help another whimper of delight and anticipation. Bending forward, he traced a line up my thigh with his tongue, first one, then the other, starting at my knees, and sliding up, gently and insistently, then stopping just short of my mound. I writhed against him and pushed myself up toward his tongue, as he slid one hand underneath me on the bar-top. “Now, it’s time for you to get exactly what you deserve,” he muttered.

Slowly, his tongue slid onto me, tracing spirals from top to bottom, tasting me. With each stroke, I could feel the pulse of the music around me, and I strained toward his mouth. “Oh, God, Ryan, please…” His hand underneath me guided me up towards his tongue, and he began to dive into me, gently at first and then more insistent, every stroke sending a wave of electricity up my torso. My hands searched for something to hang on to, and finally found the top of the bar, the polished wood soft under my fingers. I braced myself against it, and pushed back into him, trying to get his tongue as deep into me as I possibly could. Stroke after stroke went into me, and with every one Ryan’s hand under my buttocks squeezed harder, controlling me.

My senses floated; I could only feel him pleasuring me, hear the beat of the music around us, and feel the air on my skin. There could have been a hundred people watching, and I wouldn’t have known or cared any more. Ryan changed his movements, and expertly slid a finger into me, stroking me gently in my most sensitive spot. I yelped again, and then let out a long sigh of pleasure.

He made a noise of deep satisfaction. “I am very glad you like that.” The stroking continued, lighting a fire inside me, and he bent his head again to press his tongue on me, circling and teasing. This time, I wrapped both legs around his shoulders, drawing him in. He pleasured me, harder than before, and I could feel the fire inside me building in intensity, making me shudder in anticipation of my climax.

The stroking of his finger within me, and his tongue pressing into me, was pushing all the breath out of my body, and all I could do was gasp his name. “Ryan…ohh…”

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, and he increased the tempo of his stroking, pushing me closer and closer with every stroke, licking and circling with an urgent need to satisfy me. I writhed under his tongue and his fingers, again and again, until I could feel my climax building inside me.

“Ryan…oh God, I—” Then it was upon me, and all I could do was hang on to the bar-top and clasp my legs tightly around him as it crashed over me, filling my senses.