Sex On The Seats (Love After Midnight Book 4) by Elise Faber (most inspirational books .txt) 📗

Terrible Name, I wove through the crowd, thinner now than it had been hours before, then slipped into the hall.

The back room where I’d hung with Hayden was quieter than the large space in the front of the building. The bigger area was wall-to-wall with people much younger than me, the music newer, the furnishings sleek metal and glass and stone compared to the warm wood of the back, slightly sticky from use.

I was clearly the wrong age for the trendy front space and the right for the comfort and nostalgia the back space brought to mind.

On the heels of that thought, a man—or really, a boy—stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He was handsome but young, way too young and cocky to tempt me. Like a frat boy who’d just aged out of his fraternity but still thought for some reason that every woman would fawn over him like they were freshmen and he was a sexy senior.

Skeeved. Me. As in, this man-child skeeved me out.

“Hi, baby,” he said, his gaze dipping down and back up.

A tendril of disgust wound through me, coiling in my stomach, sliding up my spine, obliterating the desire for Archer that had left my panties damp.

“Not interested,” I said, pushing past him.

“Hey, wait—”

He grabbed my arm.

I froze, glanced down at his hand on me, unwelcome and uninvited. My brows rose as I met his stare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His fingers tightened. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“And I said, I’m not interested,” I gritted. “Take your hand off me.”

But he left it in place, had the balls to draw me a little closer, until I could smell the fermented yeast on his breath, until it felt as though I were drinking another beer just from the scent of his exhales . . . and maybe it was exuding its odor through his pores.

Lovely.

“Baby, I just want to talk to you.” He drew me a little closer still.

I sighed, reached for his hand, gripping between thumb and forefinger, digging my nails into the pressure point there. I wasn’t gentle in the least, and his fingers spasmed, his hand opened, releasing my arm. “You don’t get to touch me.”

He yanked his hand out of my grip. “Bitch. I can do what I want.”

“No.” I glared up at him. “Asshole.” I held his gaze. “You don’t have permission to touch me. Ever. So back the fuck—”

One second, he was there in front of me, his blue eyes glittering with malice, his lips pressed into a flat line, and the next, he was pinned against the wall behind me, Archer’s elbow shoved against his throat. “You don’t fucking touch her.”

A huge man, bald as a newborn and with bulky shoulders, appeared at Archer’s back. “Problem?” he asked calmly.

“This handsy motherfucker needs to go.”

“My friends—” Frat Boy began.

“Can join your ass on the curb,” the bouncer said, gripping his arm, and not gently by the way Frat Boy winced, his skin going pale. His volume lifted over the din of noise. “Who’s with this asshole?”

The crowd went quiet, wide eyes connecting over heads until finally a few hands lifted.

“With me,” the bouncer said.

“Thanks, Eli,” Archer said.

A nod before he shifted his eyes to me, the giant’s eyes gentle. “Sorry I missed him.”

My lips parted, a breath escaping. Because I felt oddly touched by the mountain of a man’s regret. “It’s okay,” I said.

“Not okay.” Another nod, and then Eli was growling to Frat Boy, “If you ever want to show your face in any bar in this area again, you will apologize, get the fuck out, and learn how to keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

“Look how she’s dressed,” Frat Boy spat. “Bitch is practically on display—”

I lifted my chin, crossed my arms, and shot daggers at him through my eyes. “Are you fucking serious right now? You’re coming at me with the clothes I’m wearing? Did I fall asleep and end up in 1954?” Oh, if only I had a superpower, any superpower. I would pay for said superpower in the blood of . . . earthworms? (Did they have blood?) Anywho, I digressed, because the point was that I would cheerfully murder the asshole man-child right at the moment.

Eli twisted Frat Boy’s arm behind his back, started to frog-march him away. “And congrats, you’ve now earned yourself a spot on the Pub List. Good luck getting a drink in the surrounding thirty miles.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah.” Eli smiled. “I knew that you were special.” He leaned close. “Let’s make it fifty miles.”

With that, Frat Boy and Eli walked out of the bar, his friends following him. The moment the exterior door closed, the noise picked up inside, conversations resuming, eyes leaving me as gazes returned to their own parties.

“You okay?” Archer asked.

I spun to face him. “I had him.”

Hazel eyes sparkled. “I know.” One half of his mouth curved, ticking up, and I felt that smirk all the way to my pussy.

Fuck.

I spun away from him, heading for the door, my mind on my vibrator, knowing that Happy Time would be accompanied with a side of bearded, hazel-eyed Archer with the powerful thighs and sexy smile.

It wasn’t until I pushed outside, turned in the direction of my car that I realized the prickling between my shoulder blades wasn’t the man’s gaze on me, but rather, because Archer was following me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I gritted, my voice quiet because the air outside the bar was muted, the vast majority of the noise contained by the building and its thick walls, and I knew he could hear me.

“Walking you to your car.”

Said so matter-of-factly that I nearly stumbled.

As though I were an idiot for not understanding what he was doing, as though it were common for men to come to my rescue.

Well, it wasn’t common, thank me very much.

I didn’t need rescue.

I saved myself.

“Why?” I asked as I turned the corner, spotted my car up ahead, knowing it didn’t matter, that