Free A Night With Knox by Eve Jagger

slipping?”
There’s a note of amusement in her voice. And a challenge.
    “Oh, ye of little faith.” I
look her up and down, which is never much of a chore, especially
tonight. She’s wearing a tight navy dress that hugs her curves
and begs to be peeled away slowly – or shoved up fast. Which
means there’s a hot date on the horizon – lucky bastard.
“I know exactly what you need.”
    “Funny,” she smirks,
“That’s what all the guys tell me, but somehow, they all
come up short.”
    “Not me, sweetheart.” I
tell her, setting down a tumbler and reaching for the whiskey –
the good shit. “When I make you a promise, I always deliver.”
    I set the glass in front of her with a
flourish. She gives me a slow clap.
    “No thanks needed for the drink,”
I tell her.
    “Oh no, that was for the number
burning a hole in your pocket.” She flashes a smirk.
    “Savy, as always, your charms are
much appreciated.”
    Savannah leans over the drink and then
looks up at me with a critical gaze. “What, no mint? Don’t
tell me I haven’t been a bad girl. But really, does that line
actually work?”
    “I’ll have you know that
smacking the mint before adding it to a drink helps to release its
aromatics.”
    “That’s a very big word for
you. However do your patrons keep up?” Savannah sips her drink,
and I have to pull my eyes away from the gentle suction of her lush
lips at the rim of the glass. I’ve been warned enough times by
our mutual friends: Savannah is off limits. Nothing wrong with a
little harmless flirting though.
    “So who’s the lucky guy
tonight?” I ask. “Better than the last one, I hope?”
    “My last date was fine, thank
you,” Savannah says primly.
    I grin. “Really? Because from
what I heard, Mr. Slobber could use some pointers.”
    “Who told you about—”
Realization dawns, her blue eyes narrowing like a hunter on the
prowl. “Cassie is so dead.”
    “Before you murder my friend’s
girl, please explain Picky Eater. I liked that story, too.”
    She shoots me a glare and slams back
the rest of her whiskey with a grimace that I can’t help but
find sexy as hell. Most girls who toddle in here on their stilettos
go for wine or a fruity cocktail, but there’s nothing sexier
than a woman who can appreciate her whiskey.
    “How much is left in that
bottle?” she asks.
    I hold it up. “At least a few
bad decisions, I’d say.”
    “Hit me.”
    “This isn’t poker, baby,
but if you’re willing to play hold ‘em, I’d be
happy to help you up the ante.”
    “And what’s the buy in?”
    “Just a night of your time.”
I tease. “It’ll be fantastic. I can guarantee you’ll
be seeing stars by the end.”
    Savannah rolls her eyes and nudges the
empty glass toward me across the bar. “Your manwhore tactics
should not be pointed in my direction.”
    I lean over the bar and hold her gaze,
“Savy, if I ever try my tactics on you, you’ll beg for it
and say please and thank you when it’s
done.”
    She stiffens, her back going beanpole
straight. I’ve gotten under that picture perfect exterior. The
girl can shoot straight whiskey and make a trucker blush with her
language. I lean back. Savannah’s blue eyes are dark and her
lips parted as if she’s searching for a response.
    “The word you’re looking
for is: please.”
    “Cash?” she asks coyly,
rolling her shoulders slightly to draw attention to her breasts. I
look because if she’s going to put it on display, it would be a
pity to see it wasted.
    “Yes.”
    “Please...”
    “Please what? Use your words,
what do you want?”
    “Please refill my glass.”
She pushes her glass toward me.
    “We’re going to have to
work on your begging skills,” I laugh.
    As I refill her glass I spot a guy who
just walked in: dress shirt, suit, slicked back hair, and loafers.
He’s looking around at the controlled chaos in the bar with a
slight sneer. Attitude for days. He spots Savannah, and starts to
make his way towards