When I landed the best bartending job in downtown Chicago, the rules were as clear as the Grey Goose martini I mixed for him. Don’t sleep with the patrons. I had no problem with that. Money didn’t impress me. But Damon Baxter’s eyes did. Midnight blue, just like the name of his nightclub. The way they undressed me made me consider risking the most sought after job in the service industry. Nailing the position had been hard. Obeying the rules? Even harder.
Good thing I like it hard. I was never one for following orders. For one night with him, I would have sold my soul to the devil. And that’s exactly what I did. Let me tell you, hell in the company of Damon Baxter was blissfully hot. I offered him a single night of pleasure, but when he demanded another in that deep and sexy whisper, what could I say? He was my boss, and I always aimed to please…when it pleased me.
He didn’t care that I broke his rules. But was I ready to break my own?
As my gaze roamed from group to group, I was struck by the broad range of patrons. There were a few celebrities in the mix—professional athletes, local newsmen, and the sort. A lot of businessmen and the women who chase them. Both young and old. But they all had one thing in common besides the fact that they’d been invited to experience The Lounge; they all wore extravagant clothing and jewelry. Gucci. Armani. Louis Vuitton. Fendi. Valentino. Dior. Versace. I clicked through the names as I scanned the crowd, and that was when I saw him…staring at me with an intensity that stole my breath away. One second gazing into his eyes told me he had already raked his mouth down my neck and suckled the sensitive skin between my breasts with his luscious lips. I could almost feel his mouth enclose around my hardened nipples and the sharp flick of his tongue. The color of his eyes eluded me, neither dark brown nor light blue. His stance was bold. His custom-tailored suit had clean lines, and a stark white shirt hinted that he spent hours in an office. But the day-old stubble on his face proved he didn’t mind getting dirty when he felt like it. Was he staking a claim with his direct stare? Because I already felt like he owned me. My heart fluttered in response to the raw masculinity he exuded. Confident. Brazen. Unapologetic. Everything I adored in a man rolled into one sweet package. My tongue swept across my bottom lip, causing the corner of his mouth to curve up. Sweet Jesus. He could feel me mentally undressing him as well. Stopping was not an option. Not when I wanted to run my fingers through his thick hair, cut stylishly long on top and tapering down until the short hair hugged the back of his head, stopping right where it met the collar of his shirt. He was older than my usual type. But he was spectacular. And I knew right then and there that I’d break the rules for him. With a tilt of my head, I smiled and then lowered my eyes to resume slicing the lemon that lay untouched in my hands, dismissing him. And then I waited for him to come to me. Like I knew he would.
R.C. Matthews is the author of contemporary romances featuring bold, sassy heroines and magnetic alpha heroes. Warning! The chemistry between her characters is off the charts hot, so read at your own risk. She resides in the Midwest and is surrounded by men: her husband and three sons. During her free time you'll find her watching The Walking Dead, reading a fabulous book or hanging out with her family.