Chapter Four

Ryker

"Fuck, man! You hit the jackpot!" Bennett ribbed me with a jab of his elbow, grinning like an idiot, as we waited for the bartender to take our order. "I'm kinda bummed you're here. How fuckin' sweet would it be to take them both home?" He looked over his shoulder like a wolf would survey a flock of sheep.

"She's mine, Marshon," I warned. Although a blind date wasn't my idea of a good time, I hadn't been able to get Everlie out of my mind since her friend had shown me her picture on the phone. And now that I'd seen the full package in real life, I'd made up my mind I'd have her.

I looked over my shoulder, just in time to catch her staring at me and couldn't help but smile. She's already caught up in this. She darted her eyes away, her cheeks turning two shades darker than all the makeup she had on her face, and a small chuckle slipped from my lips. "Yeah, she's in the bag already," I told Bennett.

He clapped my shoulder. "Excellent. Maybe once you get some pussy, you'll knock off the brooding, pissed off routine you've had going since we got here. I'll probably have to send her a fruit basket or something to thank her for pulling you out of your funk."

The bartender brought our drinks before I could deliver a sharp tongued reply, so I dropped it and collected my drink and the one for Everlie, and followed Bennett back to the table. I slid into my seat next to Everlie and handed her the vodka cranberry she'd hesitantly ordered, wondering if she truly liked the drink, or if she didn't drink and had just copied her friend to save face. It didn't really matter. I'd get her into my bed with, or without the alcohol. She wanted me. I could see it in her eyes. The way she couldn't keep them off me. The way her fingers twisted together in her lap.

"Thank you," she said, taking the drink and setting it down in front of her, untouched.

"Not a problem." I paused to take a sip of my own drink—a finger of top shelf whiskey. It burned going down, and I was reminded how long it had been since I'd last had anything harder than a beer. "I know virtually nothing about you, so, fill me in."

She shot a look to her friend, only to find her too busy eye fucking the hell out of Bennett. I fought the urge to roll my eyes when I noticed her hands were both under the table. No doubt in Bennett's pants. I didn't object to PDA, but there was a time and a place. Somewhere public, especially a crowded restaurant, had way too many variables for my taste. Bennett didn't care though. He never had. Not that I faulted him for it—it just wasn't my style. When I fucked a woman, I wanted every detail under my control. The time, place, position, speed, everything, down to the second she climaxed. Sex was a calculated, coordinated affair—like an orchestra, everything working together in a perfectly timed harmony to bring a satisfying crescendo and climax.

One look at Everlie was all it took to map out exactly what I wanted to do to her. Every detail vivid and clear in my mind. She'd look sweet bent over the foot of my bed, stripped naked, cheeks spread so I could see her juicy pussy right before I plowed into her, over and over until she screamed my name, clawing the bed, panting, begging for more. I'd reach around, pinch her nipples and tell her to be quiet. I'd make her stifle her moans and screams, until she was so tight and hot she exploded all over my cock, and then I'd spin her around and make her lick all her juices off of me until I came in her mouth, making sure she swallowed every last drop.

If she only knew what I'm thinking. She was staring at me over the rim of her glass, stalling while she no doubt tried to think of an answer that would interest me. Her lips on the edge of the glass got me going again, diving into another fantasy of where I wanted to take the night. I had to play my cards right, something told me a girl like her would scare easily. Although she was dressed to kill—she didn't own it like her friend—who had twice the confidence—in less than half the amount of fabric.

She brought her deep blue eyes back to mine, setting aside her glass that looked like she'd barely taken a sip. "I'm not sure what you want to know."

I smiled, her shyness turning me on all the more. "Let's start with something easy, what do you do here in Vegas?"

"I'm a dancer." The way she said it was so matter of fact, and I was sent reeling, completely thrown by the idea of her stripping in some club. No doubt, she'd be at someplace high end, but still…it didn't fit. "A ballerina, more specifically," she added, filling me with inexplicable relief. I didn't know why I cared, but the image of her showing off her goodies to a horny crowd of frat boys and lonely business men rattled me. A ballerina I could handle. In fact, it turned me on, imagining how flexible her long, lean muscles must be. The positions and things she could do…

"Are you in one of the shows here?" I asked.

"Not yet." There was a glimmer of a shadow in her eyes. "I've done some understudy and ensemble work in some of the bigger shows, but I'm still waiting for my big break, I guess you could say. In the meantime, I teach ballet to kids at a studio a few exits from here."

I nodded and took another drink, taking in the new piece of information.

"What about you?" She asked, running her finger along the etchings on the side of her glass. "Tori said you're both in the Navy." She looked over at Tori, trying to draw her into the conversation, but she was lost to the rest of the room, absorbed in the soft muttering conversation with Bennett.

"That's right. Marshon and I were both SEALs in the Navy. We just got back from about a year overseas actually. Now, we get some downtime and go reserve for the next few years."

"Wow. A year?" Everlie's eyes were wide and I got the sense that she fully appreciated what I'd said. "Well, thank you for your service. That's really amazing. Have you always wanted to be a SEAL?"

I took another drink. "Yeah. I guess you could say that. Bennett and I go way back, grade school actually, and when we hit junior high, we did JROTC and all that. My dad was a Navy man, so it's in my blood."

"I bet he's really proud of you," she offered, smiling at me.

I glanced down at the table, fighting the wave of pain that rushed into the hollow place in my heart whenever my dad was brought up. "Would have been. He passed away a couple years ago."

Everlie's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

I shook my head. "It's all right."

She looked down at her glass and a stilted silence hung between us, the heaviness of my father's passing clinging to what had started as a light conversation.

Before I could think of a new topic, a busty hostess came to get us. She escorted us to our table, taking special care to hand me my menu, dipping low, her cleavage right in my face. "If you need anything, let me know," she told me, her voice low and husky. "I'm Ana."

I nodded curtly, not bothering with a reply. She flashed another smile and disappeared. Bennett was cracking up behind his menu and when he lifted his eyes, I shot him a warning look. He had a reputation for running his mouth, and I didn't need him slipping up and saying something stupid. Not when I was already getting the sense I was on thin ice with the gorgeous blonde next to me.

"Ev, you're gonna have to order for me," Tori interjected, shifting the attention away from the flirtatious hostess. "You know what I like."

I looked down at the menu and frowned when I found it was all in French. "You speak French?" I asked Everlie.

"Oui!" She replied, smiling at me. "I took it in high school and a year at community college. I'm by no means an expert, but I know how to order the good stuff."

Good stuff.Her smile twisted my stomach into a knot. It was gorgeous, and made her delicate features bright and illuminated. My eyes fixated on her lips, full but natural. The smile melted slowly as she shifted her attention back to the menu. Bennett slapped down his menu. "Well, hell, you can order for me too, then."

Everlie and Tori laughed and exchanged an animated glance over the tops of their menus.

When the waitress came, Everlie ordered a dish for each person, as well as some appetizers for the table. I couldn't stop staring at her lips long enough to argue that I wanted to order for myself, and once she started rattling off the order in rapid, fluent French, I was completely mesmerized and dropped all objections, listening to her beautiful words.

What I'd originally imagined as a fairly straight forward, hook up with a Vegas party girl was turning into quite a different game and the longer it went on, the more unsure I was of my strategy.