L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (4 page)

Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
As I set the bar back on the rack and stood, an image of Brandon

in a handstand pushup flickered through my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

After last night, I had no idea if I was gay or straight. I had no idea if this had anything to do with doing everything I could to avoid being with another woman like my ex-wife.

The one thing I knew for certain was that I was, without a doubt,
very
attracted to Brandon Stewart.

And I didn’t want to wait until the tournament to see him again.

A
S SOON
as I walked into the club on Friday night, my eyes swept over the pool tables in search of Brandon. Three of the tables were occupied; one was empty. No gathered crowd. No Brandon.

I sighed and headed for the bar. He was probably taking a break that night, given that the tournament was the next night. That, and he probably had a life outside of the clubs, unlike me.

Taking a seat at the bar, I ordered a Bud Light. The bartender on that night was a man, so I didn’t flirt with him like I did the females.
Right. Because I would never find a man sexually attractive
. The memory of Brandon’s kiss flickered through my mind, and I shivered.

“Anyone sitting here?”

 

I turned to see a barely-dressed brunette gesturing at the barstool next to me. “No,” I said, smiling. “It’s all yours.”

She grinned and sat beside me. Her breasts jiggled a little beneath her low-cut top, and I shifted in my seat as my jeans suddenly got tighter.
Well, I’m definitely not completely gay.

I chuckled and picked up my beer.
“What?” she asked.
“What?”
“You laughed.”

“It was nothing, just….” I shook my head before sipping my beer. “Nothing.”

She cocked her head, an amused look on her face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“I’ve been around,” I said. I extended my hand. “Dustin Walker.”

“Sophia D’Agostino,” she said, taking my hand. I watched her eyes as we shook hands. Taking a chance that her expression was as flirtatious as it looked, I brushed my thumb along the back of her hand just before I released it.

Her spine straightened and her smile widened. I returned the smile.

“So, can I buy you a drink?”
“Vodka martini,” she said. “And thank you.”
I flagged the bartender down and ordered her drink.

Some commotion turned both of our heads towards the pool tables, and my heart stopped.

 

Brandon.

The other bar patrons greeted him, cheering and talking shit. A few guys puffed their chests out and grabbed cues, evidently telling Brandon they were going to beat him. As he pulled his cue out of its case and put it together, he just grinned.

That cocky, sexy grin. I remembered what it felt like against my mouth, and I couldn’t breathe.

He looked in my direction and didn’t look surprised to see me. Didn’t seem put off by the woman I was obviously talking to. He just gave me a slight, almost imperceptible nod. A silent, “Yes, you’re exactly where I expected you to be.”

The temperature in the room skyrocketed. I went for my beer, desperate for something cold. It may as well have been hot water for all it cooled me and all I tasted.

“I don’t know why people bother challenging him anymore,” Sophia said, laughing as we both turned back to the bar. “They might as well just give him fifty bucks and leave.”

“He loses once in a while.”
She snorted. “I haven’t seen it happen.”
Laughing, I said, “I made it happen.”
She blinked. “You beat him?”
I nodded, lifting my beer to my lips. “Couple nights ago.” “Very impressive,” she said.
“He might have been having an off night.” I shrugged.

“Maybe.” Her eyes flicked past me, glancing over my shoulder and lingering for a moment before meeting mine again.

“Happens to the best of them.” I glanced past her at Brandon, who was currently bent over the table, lining up a shot, and cleared my throat. “You ever tried playing him?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not that great at pool.”
“Just takes practice,” I said.
Her eyes flicked past me again.
Taking advantage of her momentary disengagement, I glanced at

Brandon, watching him pocket the eight ball and make himself fifty dollars richer. His back was to me, but I knew he had that grin on his face. I could feel it. It was like the man’s facial expressions were tied to the damned thermostat.
My
thermostat, anyway.

Shifting on my barstool, I turned my attention back to Sophia. I opened my mouth to speak when the bartender stepped up to us. “For the lady,” he said, handing her a Bud Light. “From the gentleman at table four.”

 

My breath lodged in my throat.

 

Sophia looked at the bottle with a mix of amusement and disgust. “I don’t
drink
Bud Light.” She picked up her martini.

 

“I’ll take it,” I said. “He must have thought my beer was yours.” “It’s all yours,” she said. “So he saw your beer but didn’t see me talking to you?”

Oh, I guarantee he saw you talking to me
. “Honest mistake, I’m sure.” I picked the bottle up and looked at Brandon. I gave him a mock salute and took a sip.

He ran his tongue across his lower lip, smirked, and went back to his game.

Honest mistake, my ass.
I continued talking to Sophia for a while, but it was obvious we were both just trying to pass the time. Something—someone, most likely—behind me had her attention. A certain someone by the pool

tables had mine. Sophia was attractive, but I’d have been an idiot to think she was interested in anything beyond this conversation. I drained my beer. “Look, I’m going to head out. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

She smiled and didn’t seem in the least bit offended. I had a feeling she was looking for a quick escape to pursue whoever had been catching her eye over my shoulder.

As I picked up my jacket, I looked at Brandon. He had just finished his game and was collecting his winnings. He looked at me, as if he expected me to be looking at him just then, and his eyebrows lifted.

My heart jumped. Swallowing hard, I turned back to Sophia. We didn’t bother exchanging numbers, but I paid for her drink, kissed her on the cheek, and started toward the door.

I glanced at Brandon on my way out to see if he was starting another game. Quite a few challengers had gathered, and the shittalking was loud and enthusiastic. I had to crane my neck to find him in the crowd.

His back was turned as he put his cue in its case and picked his jacket up off of the back of a chair before disappearing into the crowd, probably going to pay his bar tab.

My heart jumped into my throat. Was I imagining it, or was he timing his exit to coincide with mine?

I went outside and slowly, casually walked across the parking lot, all the while listening for his footsteps behind me.
D
ISAPPOINTMENT
tugged at my gut as my car came into view. I glanced over my shoulder for the hundredth time, but I was alone in the parking lot.

Oh well. Maybe I just imagined the looks. And the drink. My imagination must have just conjured that drink out of thin air. Maybe he was done playing pool but planned to linger for a beer or two.

I fished my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door from a few feet away. As I came around the SUV parked next to my car, I stopped dead.

He was leaning against the driver’s side door of my car, his hands in his pockets and that spine-melting grin on his face. “Hey, stranger.” I swallowed. “Hey.” I glanced over my shoulder at the club. “How the hell did you beat me out here?”

He laughed. “I can move quickly if I see something I want.” My mouth went dry. We looked at each other in silence for a moment, and I very nearly had to put a hand on the car to keep my balance. He was only a few feet away now with nothing dividing us but taut space. Now that I was this close to him, I couldn’t move.

He shifted his weight and wetted his lips. Then he smirked. “No luck with the girl?”

 

“No.” I laughed. I managed to convince my legs to move and started toward him. “She wasn’t my type.”

 

“Really? You seemed pretty into her.”

We were close enough to touch now, and I stopped, taking a breath and catching his masculine scent in the air. “Not really. Just wasn’t clicking.” My fingers brushed his, and I made no move to take my hand away. “Particularly not after some jackass sent her a drink.”

He grinned, closing his fingers around mine. “What an asshole.” His other hand landed gently on my hip.
“I know.” I slid my hand around to his lower back and pulled him toward me, struggling to breathe as our bodies touched. “You would almost think he was trying to get between us.”

“Maybe he was.” He ran his thumb down the side of my hand. “But who wouldn’t try to get to such a good-looking woman?”

“I got the impression he wasn’t after the woman.” Tilting my head, I kissed the underside of his jaw.
He exhaled, his hand drifting under the back of my shirt. “What man wouldn’t be after a woman like that?”

I sucked in a breath as his fingertips touched my skin. “A man who sends a beer to a woman who’s drinking a martini.”

 

“My mistake,” he whispered.

 

I raised my head. Our lips were nearly touching. “An honest mistake, I’m sure.”

 

“Terrible mistake. I hope I didn’t scare her away from you.”

“She was just something to keep me entertained until something better came along.”
His breath warmed my lips as he whispered, “And did it?”

“Did it ever.” And I kissed him. All week long, I hadn’t been able to get his kiss out of my mind, and it was better than I remembered. Every gentle touch of his lips and insistent sweep of his tongue raised goose bumps on my arms and sent shivers up my spine.

He moved his hips from side to side, letting his erection brush over mine, and I knew there was no way I could stop at just a kiss tonight. I wondered if I could even make it out of that parking lot without satisfying my desperate, painful need for him.

He kissed my neck and ran his fingers across my back under my shirt. “Got any plans for the rest of the night?”

 

My knees shook and I held him closer. “If I did, I just cancelled them.”

He laughed, his breath whispering across my neck. “My place is about ten minutes away.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“Is that right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he kissed me again. Then he whispered, “Neither can I.”

Before I had a chance to comprehend what he’d said, his hand slid between us, squeezing my cock through my jeans. I groaned, letting my head fall back. He kissed my neck and squeezed me again, then let his fingertips trail along the fly of my jeans, the soft vibration of his nails on denim driving me wild.

“Jesus,” I breathed.

Against my neck, he said, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” He squeezed me again. “And I’ve had a hard-on ever since I walked into the club tonight and saw you.” His fingers found the zipper pull, and I gasped as he drew it down slowly. My heart nearly stopped and my breath caught in my throat as he wrapped his fingers around my cock.

“Brandon—” I tried not to choke on my own voice. “
Here
?”

He glanced around the deserted parking lot. “There’s no one around.” Kissing my jaw, he sounded more desperate when he whispered, “You’d think I could wait another ten minutes to touch you….” He stroked me gently, slowly. “But I can’t. I can’t fucking wait.”

“Oh God,” I murmured, my body trembling against his.

He looked at me and wetted his lips. “There are so many things I want to do to you.” He stroked a little faster, a little harder. “And before tonight is over, I fully intend to do them.”

The touch of his hand and the promise in his words were almost too much. I put a hand on the top of the car door to steady myself, but when Brandon kissed the inside of my forearm, I very nearly collapsed.

He laughed and kissed me, stroking my cock between us. Nearly groaning, he said, “I want to suck your cock. I want to taste you.”

I rested my forehead against his, my entire body shaking with anticipation.
“I want to taste you when you come.” He squeezed and stroked me right to the edge. “I want to suck you off, but I’m not going to this time.”