Dirty Martini (Crow Bar Brute Squad Book 2) Read online

  By some kind of miracle, this gorgeous creature took that as the genuine compliment he had intended it to be. Just then, the rowdy biker gang in the back began to break up their meeting and made their way up to the bar, loudly demanding their beer pitchers be refilled. At the same time, he saw Katie’s lips move but couldn’t make out the words.

  He held one hand up to his ear. “Sorry?”

  Katie lifted one lovely finger in the air, beckoning Holden to come closer so she could be heard. Although Holden had no idea how she could do that when she was in those knockout heels. Holden still had to bend way down to meet her halfway, and he wasn’t prepared to inhale her scent. She filled his lungs with memories that made him salivate: sweetness, tartness, and spice. A fruity pie with an extra dash of this and that just to keep everyone on their toes. He was so ready for a slice of that, he had to work hard not to nibble on her neck. Her throat was dangerously close to his lips as he leaned in close. She rested her hand on his bicep; he liked the way she gripped it. Her lips her breath at his ear sent shivers across the skin of his neck.

  “You wanna get out of here?” Her touch traveled up over his shoulder, her thumb grazing the hard trapezium, provoking gooseflesh on the back of his neck.

  “Yeah. I do,” Holden answered before thinking through the situation.

  Holy shit. Ten minutes ago, he hadn’t even thought leaving with this lady was a remote possibility. And now that this was an actual proposition, he realized he couldn’t go home. His roommate and fellow bouncer, Dash, would be there. He was probably there waiting for him right now, wanting to talk about Mavis leaving, and what everyone at Crow Bar was planning to do now.

  Where else could they go? Fuck Motel 6; at best, he could scratch together just enough for an hour at the seedy little Windmill Motel.

  But first, he had to make sure she meant what he thought she meant.

  He spoke low but clearly into her ear, “You mean like, go grab some coffee at the diner up the street or—”

  Katie cut him off with a wicked grin, shaking her head, then put her lips to his ear again. “No, Holden. I mean, let’s go somewhere alone so I can climb you like a tree.”

  That, Holden did not have to be told twice.

  Chapter Six

  Katie

  Casual sex. I’m about to have casual sex.

  Do I want casual sex?

  She may be the biggest titan of the most ruthless industry in this town, but she was not experienced in casual sex. She had nothing against casual sex. She often wished she could have more of it. But the social circles she lived in often overlapped with the professional. Like it or not, as a woman, she was judged for her every move. Every success came with accolades, sure. But there was always somebody ready to accuse a successful woman of getting ahead by spreading her legs. Or nepotism. It sucked. She disagreed. She didn’t want to care what anybody thought, but nepotism was always a question, thanks to the fact that her grandfather had started the company. Katie had risen through the ranks honestly, beginning as a lowly mail clerk at 17. But that didn’t matter. This business, this whole city, was hyper-political, and everything was all about optics. One whiff of impropriety and her position would have gone away.

  And now that she was at the top, and had fuck-you money, had I-could-have-you-murdered-with-one-phone-call money, she wasn’t about to start seeking out one-night stands. Her world was insulated. All about protecting her wealth. Not just for her own sake but for the sakes of thousands of people who worked for her.

  So, by the time she had met and conversed with Holden after a nearly-all-liquid lunch, the prospect of an uncomplicated fuck presenting itself like a peacock on steroids, Katie was more than good to go. She suddenly understood the phrase “hot to trot” on a molecular level.

  Katie could have driven herself and Holden somewhere nice in her car—she refused to hire a driver; she loved to drive, and cars were among her few hobbies. She could have offered to drive them back to her penthouse uptown. Hell, she could have even taken him to one of the model flats at Waterview, where her Audi was parked. Her access and money afforded her lots of options to be alone with Holden, but he seemed to light up from inside at the prospect of taking charge. A thrill moved through her at the anticipation of going with the flow. Going somewhere with someone so much younger.

  Exactly how much younger he was, she couldn’t tell. If she had to guess, he was in his mid-20s, which would make him at least 10 years younger. Possibly closer to 15. God, she felt like a cradle-robbing harlot, and she was nearing a case of the giggles as Holden led her by the hand out the back door. She’d barely noticed the dingy alleyway. Katie was too busy reminding herself she’d never fucked anyone so much younger than her. She’d never flirted with anyone from Dockside. She’d never set foot in Crow Bar before, yet she was leaving with the best-looking bouncer in the whole place. Probably in the entire city.

  She felt amused, excited, almost giddy. For once, someone else was in charge of her situation. Her security manager, Mike, would be livid if he saw what she was doing. She had her Glock in her purse if things got ugly; she always had it with her, especially when visiting job sites around Newcastle.

  She just had a feeling that Holden was a decent guy. Maybe it was the way he’d come over to the defense of that barmaid when that guy grabbed her ass—yeah, Katie had seen and heard enough to piece that together. He spoke kindly to Katie. He stood close to her but didn’t intimidate or crowd her. And, finally, he seemed genuinely surprised and pleased when she’d touched him. She’d seen the heat in his eyes, the red in his cheeks.

  Once he was put in charge of the situation? His whole energy changed. With his hand on her back, his meaty mitts holding open doors for her, he was his own one-man security force. Sure, she felt safe with Mike. They’d been through thick and thin together, and he put in extra overtime at a moment’s notice to make sure Katie was protected at all times. But this, this space between herself and Holden, felt completely different.

  “Sorry,” he said of the old Chevy. “It’s a piece of shit, but it was new when my sister bought it years ago. I’m saving for a Jeep, but for now, it gets me to work and back.”

  Katie smiled and said, “Whatever works, hon. This model is a solid piece of Detroit history. And anyway, I’m not particular.” She smiled to herself when she wondered what Holden would think of her museum garage on the lower level of her building uptown.

  He laughed as he tossed a duffel bag with a boxing gym logo from the front seat to the back seat.

  Waiting patiently as he started the car, she thought about telling him to turn left on Haven Street and taking him straight upstairs to the flat at Waterview. But hell, she didn’t care. She just wanted to be in the world of this strange, sweet, big brute of a man. She could climb all over him right here in the car if she thought there would be room enough for the two of them to grapple. Eyeing the overall leg room, she had her doubts. Anyway, she was curious to see where he would take her.

  Chapter Seven

  Holden

  If he’d been thinking straight, maybe Holden would have texted his buddy Dash and asked him to clear out of their tiny basement apartment for an hour. If Holden had had time to plan, maybe he would have saved up enough money for the Holiday Inn.

  No plan mattered at that moment other than getting to be alone somewhere—anywhere—with Katie. She’d made it clear she was good to go now, wherever. He held out hope that if she wasn’t picky about his crappy car, she wouldn’t be too upset over the Windmill Motel.

  Not owning a credit card limits a man to very few motel rooms in Newcastle, the Windmill being one of them.

  It used to be one of those charming roadside motels that families on a budget from downstate would reserve for their beach vacations. Holden remembered the place having window boxes full of tulips in the spring and little garden statues of Dutch boys and girls in wooden shoes, kissing. The only remnant of that era was the creaking rooftop windmill, short of one blade. It was
known to rent by the hour, and the cops were always busting the place for illegal activities.

  Holden glanced sideways at Katie and swallowed hard. She didn’t deserve a place like this. What was she doing there with him, anyway? What the hell was she thinking?

  As he pulled up to the curb, he tamped down his embarrassment and waited for her to scoff. He would not blame her one bit if she demanded he take her somewhere else. She would be within her rights to tell him there was no way she was going to consent to shenanigans inside this fleabag motel. But she didn’t say anything like that. She said nothing, but watched as he threw the gearshift into park. The look was full of fire. His face fell, and his heart sank. She was offended.

  “Look, if this is not good enough for you…I mean… it’s no Ecco Tower—”

  Katie interrupted him and got straight to the point.

  “Do you currently have protection with you, and have you been tested for STDs?”

  Holden stammered. “Shit, no. I don’t have anything with me, but yeah. I’m clean.”

  She went on with her officious tone. “Would you be willing to sign an affidavit to that effect?”

  He blanched. “A…what?”

  “I’m kidding. Just fucking with you. Don’t be nervous. And just so you know, I’ve never experienced any communicable diseases.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Have I killed the mood now?”

  Holden laughed. “Listen, I’m 24 years old and still get hard looking at my roommate’s old-school Farrah Fawcett poster.”

  Katie laughed. “Oh good, at least I know who my competition is. A size zero blonde actress on a poster from 40 years ago.”

  His stomach fell into his shoes at the thought that maybe he’d insulted her. God, he was way out of his depth at that moment.

  “I shouldn’t have even brought it up. That was dumb.”

  “Listen. I’m aware of my size. Even knowing who I am, all the money I have, all the property I own, and all the power I wield in this town, I still get told once a month by a man, ‘You know? You have a really pretty face.’”

  Holden held up his hands, feeling fully aware that no sex was going to happen anytime soon, sure that he had fucked up something in a big way. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you didn’t. You just said I was pretty. I very rarely need external validation about my looks. On most days, I’m kinda feeling myself. But it’s nice to hear I’m sexually attractive without the implication that my ass is hindering me in some way. When someone says, ‘pretty face,’ what they’re really saying is, ‘despite the size of your ass, I’d fuck you if I just let me concentrate on the pretty part.”

  Something came over Holden just then, and he’d had enough. He knew he was about to say something incredibly stupid or very profound, but he had to speak.

  “Listen, Katie. I don’t know what those other idiots said to you, but I ain’t them. All of you is hot—all of you. Yeah, you’re pretty, but you’re a good talker, a good listener. You’re funny. You tip well. You look people in the eye with interest when they’re talking to you. You dress nice. You’re nice to the wait staff. And I ain’t gonna lie, you got an ass that I have been wanting to hold on to while I motorboat those amazing tits you’re hiding under that coat. I don’t do quickies or one-night stands—or whatever this is—with people who aren’t nice.”

  “Me either,” she said softly, her face once again appearing to be lit from within while she watched him talk. “You’re nice too.”

  “Good,” he said, surprised at his own assertiveness. This chick was scary as hell in a lot of ways—like, he got the feeling she could make him disappear if she wanted to—but she also drew out an unfamiliar streak in him—the incredibly bossy streak. “I’m nice. You’re nice. You’re hot. I’m hot. Are we gonna play canasta, or are we gonna fuck real quick in this sleazy motel?”

  Katie licked her lips and brushed her hair from her face, stammering. “Yes. Let’s go. Now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Katie

  “Leave your shoes on, and don’t touch anything.”

  Scanning the room, Katie could see why he’d made those demands. The bedspread looked as if it had not been washed anytime in that current decade. Dust coated the eerily buzzing light fixtures. A troubling stain on the turf-like carpet definitely had a story to tell, and Katie could only thank her lucky stars that the rug wasn’t shag.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. God only knew what kind of dirt she carried home on her clothes after visiting job sites all over the city. Holden should have been worried about her rather than either of them worrying about the state of the room.

  She watched Holden peel off his leather jacket slowly, for her benefit. The expanding of his broad chest and the stretching of his thick arms behind his back for those couple of seconds was like pouring gasoline on a campfire. Flirting and talking with him at the bar had made her excited, curious, and horny. That move with the jacket catapulted her into shameless, down, and dirty need.

  “Listen,” he said, spreading his jacket over the back of a chair, “my sisters know way too much about seedy hotel rooms thanks to their obsession with crime procedurals. I know what these places are like.”

  He behaved so cautiously and sweet with her, but she rather liked it. He helped her off with her coat and laid it carefully over top of his jacket on the chair.

  When he turned back to Katie, she was watching him with skepticism. “I’m not sure how to avoid touching anything, what with needing a bed to do…things...oh, wow…”

  Her words trailed off and her eyes closed as a result of Holden’s fingers in her hair. She adored having her hair played with and couldn’t remember the last time that happened. His touch warmed her and made her feel open to anything. His body was so close, and the sensation was just like she’d imagined when she’d first eyed him at the bar. He was an absolute brick wall of protection.

  She lost herself in that touch until she was brought back by a sudden rhythmic knocking on the wall, accompanied by some strangers’ moans and cries of pleasure. This place does a brisk business in afternoon delights, she thought, her face slipping into a wicked smile.

  “Wow,” he said.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “What?”

  “I wish you could see this.”

  “See what?”

  “You. When I was playing with your hair, your face changed. I didn’t think you could get more beautiful. Your face, your perfect makeup, your hair, your skin—you look like…”

  Katie no longer cared about the deep shade of red in her cheeks as her heart raced. She smiled up at him. He really was a tower next to her, and she wanted to climb that tower and live in it. “Like what?”

  He smiled back. “Well, you look like a luscious little cupcake.”

  She laughed. “Nobody calls me little. A bitch. A hardass. Killer Katie. But never luscious. Or little. Or cupcake.”

  The silly nickname didn’t bother her. The only thing bothering her was that this horse of a man was not yet giving her a ride.

  “Last chance to back out before I have my taste of my cupcake,” Holden said.

  She answered by running her hands up his arms and over his chest, the bump of his nipple ring spiking her curiosity. Katie felt the rise and fall of his chest against her body, and she ran the pad of her thumb over his nipple. The next room noises abated briefly but then resumed with fresh new moans, cries, and laughter. She could hear a conversation as if someone was giving instructions. If Katie wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like they’d added a third person into the mix. “I’ve never done anything like this before, but don’t you worry. I never back out once I get—”

  Ordinarily, she would make trouble for anyone interrupting her while she was talking. This was not just anyone. Those sensuous lips stopping her from speaking another word belonged to a pure, strong, extraordinarily sexy younger man who made her feel like a queen.

  If she felt his overwhelming presence standing close
to him, that was nothing compared to how he made her feel when he physically wrapped her up in his arms. He was over her, on her, around her. There was nothing left of the world but Holden’s firm lips tasting hers, his hands claiming her hips, his arms caging her in, and his one leg nudging her knees to open.

  “Cupcake good,” he murmured with a smirk, unbuttoning her blazer and tossing it on the chair over her coat. He hiked up her skirt while at the same time swiping his tongue across her bottom lip. She opened and let their tongues move against each other in a warm slide.

  He groaned low into her mouth while hoisting her up higher on his thigh, her skirt hiked up all the way around her hips. His fondling mitts seemed to be everywhere at once. Just when she absorbed the thrill of his firm grip on her backside through the thin material of her undies, it appeared his hands were then yanking her tucked blouse free of her waistband so he could palm the skin of her lower back. When she teased his tongue the way he teased hers, he moved his mouth down her throat, tasting the skin of her neck, tugging aside her flimsy blouse, savoring her collarbone, dipping his tongue between her breasts. Holden’s mouth, his hands, his body, was all she could taste, smell, see, hear and touch. His woody masculine scent and the minty taste of his mouth intoxicated her.

  “More. Closer.”

  Holden had gone fully monosyllabic. Her pussy responded on its own with a hard clench of inner muscles, wanting to grab onto something that wasn’t there. She became aware that as her body rode his thick thigh, he might possibly be able to feel how wet he made her.

  With no warning, those beefy arms then swiftly pulled her up, capturing her against his body with his hands gripping the backs of her thighs. Nobody had ever lifted her like this, as if she weighed nothing. But then, she was experiencing a lot of firsts that night.

  She broke the kiss. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he responded, his brows knitted in confusion. “Why? Am I hurting you? Do we need to stop?”