Sex On The Seats
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On a weeknight.
Certainly not sleeping, even though I had to work the next day. Definitely not open to talking with anyone, or trying to pick up a date.
Surely . . . not paying the least bit of attention to the beautiful bartender with gorgeous hazel eyes and a body built for sin. He’d flash a smile and the women around him melted. He’d chuckle and even I wasn’t immune to the silken way it slid down my spine. And I was singular. I didn’t pay attention to men (and yes, I said that as a filthy, four-letter word).
I existed by myself. For myself.
It was safer that way.
Then . . . he talked to me. Then . . . he flashed that smile my way.
Then he made me want a stranger more than I wanted my careful distance.
Oh. Hell.
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Про автора
USA Today bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team—the Sharks!—are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise changes her hair color more often than some people change their socks, loves sparkly things, and is the mom to two exuberant boys.
She lives in Northern California. Connect with her in her Facebook group, the Fabinators or email her at elisefaberauthor@gmail.com.
