Fifteen

B

I can feel his eyes on me, and I like it. A lot.

It's hard keeping things professional, when all I can think about is how good he felt inside me when he took me on the very bar top he's wiping down. I want a repeat of that night, but we agreed to pretend it never happened, much to my chagrin.

My best friend laughed and called me a masochist when I told her I was working for the dude who screwed me six ways to Sunday. I can't help it though. I just want to be close to him.

Edward is an enigma, and I love a good mystery. We've spent the past two months or so getting to know one another. He's obviously been hurt, but he's one of the kindest people I've ever met. Whatever his ex-wife put him through didn't leave him bitter. Just a little gun shy.

It doesn't hurt that he's easily the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on. Tall and lanky but strong from lifting kegs and crates, he's so confident, covered in tattoos, with a mop of copper-colored hair that he can't tame. He has the greenest eyes that follow my every move when he thinks I don't notice. But I do and it does things to me. Makes my heart race in my chest and my panties dampen. I'm constantly in a wet state when I'm around him. He makes me want to trace the tattoos that cover his arms and torso with my mouth. Just the thought has me drooling.

"Hey, beautiful," the annoying guy who's been hitting on me all night calls. "Can I get some service?"

I drag my eyes away from Edward and his knowing smirk. Of course, he noticed I was checking him out, but I can't help myself.

"What can I get for you?"

"Your number," he says, and I glare until he gets to the point. "Just a couple shots of Patron and another round of beers."

Edward is busy mixing drinks at the liquor shelf, so I lean over and grab the bottle of tequila. My nipples harden and my body breaks out in goosebumps at the contact. He groans.

"Bella," he says, his voice full of warning.

"Yeah?" l ask innocently and focus on pouring the shots.

He just shakes his head but doesn't say anything.

I can't keep the smile off my face, knowing I affect him in some kind of way. Unfortunately, my friend misconstrues it.

"Change your mind about giving me your number?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward glaring.

"I'm not interested," I stress. "So, you can stop acting so desperate. Save us both the trouble."

His friend laughs at him, and he stomps back to his table but not before calling me a bitch.

The night passes, and before I know it, Edward is kicking a few stragglers out and locking the door behind them.

I walk to the back and start loading the dishwasher when he comes storming in. The kitchen door swinging back and forth.

"Bella."

"Edward?"

"You've got to stop."

I frown. "I'm sorry?"

"You're driving me crazy." He takes the glass out of my hand and slams it down on the sink. He's so close I can smell the cologne he's wearing. Feel the warmth of his skin. It makes me dizzy. "If this is going to work out we can't."

"Can't what?" l ask, stepping closer.

I want him. I want him. I want him.

"I can't," he says, moving closer. "I can't get you out of my head. I can't stop wanting you."

"Then don't stop."

Edward pounces.

Damn, baby.