* * *

The French Quarter was so packed with cars and people that traffic moved only inches at a time. I cut down a dark street that I knew would be mostly overlooked and found a parking spot I’d used many times before. Even after being gone a year, this city was still my home, and I knew the tricks.

When I climbed out of the car, a couple of homeless punks paused in trying to jimmy a gate open and ran in the other direction. Before, I would have chased them down, and it was hard to suppress the urge. It wasn’t my job anymore, and I had more pressing business tonight.

I strode down the uneven concrete sidewalk and swung into the open doorway of Molly’s. My first thought when I walked inside was pure instinct. I’m going to paddle her ass when I get her out of here. I couldn’t miss Ari, and neither could anyone else in the bar.

A black sweater hung at her elbows, revealing a tiny white tank top that barely covered her bra or the tits pushing up over the top of its cups. With the sweater on, she might have looked like a sexy librarian waiting to be unwrapped, and with it off, she could stop traffic. The red-and-white plaid skirt that completed her outfit was no doubt giving every man in the bar schoolgirl fantasies.

What the hell was she thinking? Her red hair spilled down her shoulders, and every eye in the bar followed as she bent over the pool table to take a shot.

Was that . . . Oh, hell no. Please tell me I could not see the bottom curve of her ass when she leaned too far forward.

Three other men had their heads tilted to the side in a way that would have been comical if she weren’t my woman. Whether she knew she was mine wasn’t the important point in my mind. It was inevitable.

I stalked across the room and slipped the pool cue from her hand before she could twitch her ass again or take the shot.

“What the hell—” Ari straightened and spun at the same time.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Her eyes, already bright from liquor, narrowed on me. “Not that it’s any of your business, but whatever the hell I want because I’m a single woman.”

When she flipped her hair over her shoulder for an extra punch of attitude, my dick stood up and took notice. So she’s officially single now. Good to know.

“We already covered this. You’re my business. Always have been.”

“Hey, the lady and I are playing a game here.”

I twisted my head toward the guy leaning on a pool cue at the other side of the table. He looked pissed at the interruption. Too damn bad.

“Game’s over.”

“Says who?” Ari narrowed her eyes on me. “Me and Jack were just getting to know each other.”

“It’s John—”

“Thanks, John. I got this.” I swung my gaze from her pissed-off pool partner to her and said, “We’re going home,” loud enough so everyone in the bar heard me.

“No, we are not,” Ari snapped back, and my gaze stuck on the bright red slicking her lips.

Jesus, that would look amazing around my cock. As soon as the thought entered my head, I shut it down. That wasn’t why I was here.

“Look, Heath told me about the boyfriend shit. Glad you’re done with him, but trust me, this isn’t the way to handle it.”

She dropped a hand to her hip. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father and you’re not my brother. You’ve only kissed me once, so that means you can go ahead and keep your opinion to yourself.”

I laid the pool cue on the table and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go, Red.”

She tugged out of my grip and spun around to face John, who’d come around the table. “I’m not leaving without finishing my game.”

I wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her back against me. “You want a game, Ari? Then you’ll be playing with me. Not some damned stranger.”

She let out a grunt of anger and struggled against my hold.

“Hey—” John interrupted, but my fierce glare shut him up.

Ari whipped back around, no doubt to rip me a new one, and I silenced her the best way I knew how.

I kissed her.

14

Ariel

I had no idea how it happened, but Rhett Hennessy was kissing me. Again.

The heat from the alcohol buzzing through my veins blended with the adrenaline dumping into my system from sparring with him. The result? Enough combustion to create an inferno.

I moaned against his lips as he buried his hand in my hair and tugged my head to the side for better access. The kiss morphed from a maneuver to an obsession in a flash. All day, I’d told myself it wasn’t as good as I remembered. I’d built it up in my head. I might be suffering from some exotic disease.

But no. I was wrong. It was better.

Without thinking, I lifted my leg and wrapped it around his hip, wanting to get closer, to feel more, as his tongue dived inside.

Oh sweet Jesus, he tastes even better too. Spearmint and spice this time, mixed with the bourbon I’d been drinking.

Rhett reached down and cupped my ass—under my skirt—and I melted, drenching my panties.

Even on my boldest day, I wasn’t an exhibitionist, but in that moment, I wouldn’t have cared if he’d boosted me up onto the pool table and taken me in front of the whole bar. Actually, it didn’t sound like the worst idea I’d ever had.

But Rhett came to his senses and tore his mouth away. His hand squeezed reflexively, and my hips bucked against him again.

“We’re leaving.” He growled the words, and I hoped the promise they carried was really there and not a figment of my drunken imagination.

“You should probably kiss me again first.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, and his growl vibrated through my body.

Within seconds, I found myself flying through the air and upside down, landing over his shoulder.

“Hey—” My surprised screech filled the air, and everyone in the bar started shouting.

“That’s the way to handle her!”

“Nice move!”

Men. Screw them all.

When I struggled against Rhett’s hold, a heavy palm landed on my ass to hold me in place. My cheek stung where it landed.

Oh my God. Did he just spank me? As quickly as that question flew through my head, it was immediately followed by another. And why do I like that idea so much?