“You’re drunk.”
I toss my head back, laughing. “Shit, I need to be drunk around you. Hell, someone just hook me up to a fucking drip. Make this shit permanent.”
He slumps back against the chair, running his fingers through his short hair and sighing. “Fuck. I have a feeling you’re gonna be even more annoying drunk than sober.”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ at the end of the word, and that causes him to narrow his eyes on me, almost condescending. “Drunk Ria is finding you much more tolerable.”
I try to focus on what I know will be a scowl on his face, but my vision is still blurred. Fuck, I’m more pissed than an owl in socks. Not my brightest idea.
“Let’s see how long it takes drunk Tor to throw up.” The bastard is smirking over his glass at me.
A waitress, if you could call her that, prances over, stopping behind us. She tosses her bleached-blonde hair behind her shoulder and wiggles her hips. I can’t help but watch her boobs. They’re bigger than my bloody head. I place a hand each side of my head and try to compare it. Jude cocks an eyebrow at me. What? I mouth at him.
“Would you like some more drinks, JP?” she asks.
“Yes!” I shout, at the same time as Jude growls no. I shove my erect middle finger in his face as I smile at the waitress. “Tequila!”
Another annoyed groan rumbles out of him, and he’s rubbing both his hands down his face. I swear to God, he sounds like an animal, like an actual growling, snarling animal. The waitress scurries away, fake boobs bouncing as she goes. I don’t blame her. Cheery here isn’t exactly the best company.
He points at me. “You don’t need another fucking drink, woman. Your fucking eyes are crossing already!”
“I can still see and hear you, which means I haven’t had nearly enough to drink.” I smile and turn up my empty glass.
“Oh,” he nods, one brow arching, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or challenging me. “You want to get drunk? I’ll get your ass drunk.” He grabs a waitress passing by. “Six shots of tequila.”
I watch the waitress nod and prance off. “Fina-fucking-lly,” I drawl. “You’re so….gnarly all the time.”
I catch a slight grin flicker over his lips. “Hmm,” he laughs. “Don’t really know any other way to be, doll.”
Two hours and fuck knows how many tequila shots later, and I’m so pissed that even arsehole extraordinaire over here isn’t seeming that bad. In fact, he’s looking pretty fucking hot. I squint and focus on his bulging biceps, the ink of his tattoos bringing a whole new level of sexy badass to the table.
“You’re really hench,” I slur as I hang off Jude’s arm. We’re leaving apparently, but it’s slow progress. I can’t feel my legs...or my face...or anything, really. I’m beautifully numb, and everything just seems so much better.
“Hench?” He glares at me, dragging me toward the door. “Would you speak fucking English?”
“Muscley. Pretty.” I grope at his arm. “You’re really pretty.”
He’s so pretty. I want to touch him. I reach out and stroke his face.
“Okay.” He jerks his head away. “I’m not a fucking dog,” he says, and then proceeds to stumble into the wall.
I laugh, and point at him. “You are definitely a dog...and a rat. A drunk rat.” What am I even talking about?
He slumps against the wall, mumbling as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “Fuck, I can’t drive.” He fumbles with his phone and drops it onto the lobby floor. “Shit.”
I bend down and pick it up, dropping onto my arse. I squint at the bright screen, trying to get my eyes to focus. “I can’t see! Fuck!”
He eyes me, his gaze narrowing. “That voice of yours…” he groans, taking the phone from my hands and placing it to his ear.
“Hey, I need you to come get me.” There’s a brief pause. “Just come get me. I’m at the titty bar.” He groans and shoves his phone back in his pocket. He shakes his head and looks around. “You can’t be all sprawled out on the floor of my club.” Bending over, he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. “You need fresh air anyway.” He carts me out of the doors and into the parking lot.
“Jude.” I try to struggle, but I can barely lift my own arm. The air is cold, but I can’t feel it. I have my alco-jacket. I have to close one eye to see straight. The club gets farther away as we move deeper into the shadows. His breathing is ragged and with each step his grip on my thigh tightens. He stops under the shadow of a tree. I can’t see anything and I have to squint in the dim light from the club. We’re far enough away that no one can hear us. No one can see us.
He puts me down, my body sliding over every inch of his on the way down. I wobble slightly and his arms tighten around me, pulling me against him. He says nothing for what feels like forever. His eyes are locked on mine, a dim green in the fading lights of the car park. His hand moves, his fingers inching under the hem of my top to brush the skin at the small of my back. My skin prickles under his warm touch. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a very sparkly, very pretty flame. What the fuck? I frown as I try to work through my tequila-induced fog. What am I doing here? How did this happen? Shit. How much did I drink? You know it’s too fucking much when the murderous psychopath is starting to look appealing. Well, technically he’s my protector now. Does that make it okay? Fuck knows. My drunken mind can’t work this out right now.
He bends forward, his lips brushing my earlobe as he speaks. “I can practically hear you thinking, Tor.” Brushing his index finger across my forehead, he smooths out the frown lines. His breath blows across my face. The scent of tequila and tobacco invade my senses, causing my head to spin. I cling to him, not because I’m drunk, but because I want to, and that right there scares the shit out of me.
He pulls back and his eyes flick down to my mouth. He closes his eyes on a groan as though he’s struggling with something.
“What am I thinking?” I blurt, my voice husky, like some kind of bloody sex phone hooker.
His lips pull up in a wicked smile. My breath hitches in my lungs. Oh, God, that smile makes my heart stutter and then break into a sprint.
His hand moves to the nape of my neck, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.” He slams me against the trunk, the rough bark scraping against my skin. His breath touches my neck and I shiver violently. His teeth skim over my pulse before he bites down.
I groan, and my back bows away from the tree, scrambling to get closer, demanding more.
I can’t control myself. I just want him, and I don’t care about the complications or the consequences. I gasp as his body presses against mine. He releases my hair and his fingers skim down my neck, gripping it lightly, dominating me with every breath. My pulse skyrockets as my body basks in his dominance. I can feel every hard inch of him, the heat of his body through his shirt, his warm breath touching my lips, his fingers digging into the skin of my throat. He’s everywhere. I can’t escape him. I should be scared of him, but I’m not. I could blame the tequila, but can’t deny that he affects me.
His hand creeps down my chest, skimming over my breasts, gliding down my stomach. He grips between my legs, squeezing through my jeans. I roll my hips into him, desperate for some pressure. Something! His breath caresses my neck as he kisses over the place he just nipped. My nails dig into his skin, raking over the back of his neck as my skin breaks out in goose bumps.
With a growl, he grabs a handful of my hair, wrenching my head back. He tightens his arm around my waist and pulls me up on my tiptoes, crushing his lips to mine. My fingers tug at his shirt, in a desperate bid to get closer to him. I want more. I need more. My body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t breathe properly. His tongue teases my lips, and my lips part.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth before I feel his teeth bite my bottom lip. He tugs at it gently and pushes his body harder, if that’s even possible, against mine.
I moan and claw at him like a bitch in heat. Fuck me. I have no shame right now, and I can’t even be embarrassed about that.
He rolls his hips against me, grinding his erection against my stomach. “Damn it,” he hisses over my lips. He grips my waist, lifting me and pinning me to the tree with his hips.
My legs clamp around his waist and his fingers grip my thighs, digging into my skin. He buries his face in my neck, his lips working down my throat, kissing, nipping, and licking as they go. My head falls back as my hands seem to find their way into his hair, pulling him in, wanting more. I can’t seem to get close enough to him. His lips continue their journey until he’s biting the tops of my breasts.
“Jude, where the hell are you?” I hear a deep male voice shouting. “Jude?”
Raising his head from my chest, he glares at me. “I’m not done with you. Do you hear me?” he whispers, slamming his lips to mine one last time before slowly releasing me.
I don’t answer him. I can’t answer him. Shit, I can barely breathe. My heart feels like it’s trying to escape from my rib cage, and my knickers are in dire need of replacement.
He takes my hand and pulls me toward the parking lot. I stagger after him on shaky legs. The combination of tequila and Jude’s lips have really done a number on my equilibrium. I can see a figure approaching us in the dark, and I instinctively cling to Jude.
“What the hell were you doing?” It’s Rich.
“None of your fucking business,” Jude says, still pulling me behind him.
I follow him to a truck and he opens the door.
Rich glances at me. “She better not puke in my truck,” he groans.
He can go suck a big one. I flick him the bird, feeling very brave with Jude half-sheltering me from his view. I cling to his arm, trying not to sway like the intoxicated mess that I am.
“Just fucking shut up and drive,” Jude demands.
As soon as the truck starts moving, I feel myself drifting. I’ve hit the figurative wall, and I need to pass out. I lay down across the back seat, and let my eyes close. I can hear the low rumble of Jude’s voice as he talks to Rich, and some country music playing through the radio. The last thing I hear before I pass out is Jude calling my name.