Free Honey & Ice by Dorothy F. Shaw

One
    “ E ight ball , side pocket.” Desi Profit pushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, leaned over the pool table, and took aim on her target.
    Stephanie Jenkins, Desi’s best friend, watched from her perch at the high-topped bar table against the wall. “You’ll never make it.”
    Desi let out an unladylike snort, took her shot, and sank the eight ball. “Made it. And you can kiss my ass.” She winked at her friend, grabbed her beer, and took a long pull.
    “Which part? You’re all ass.” Laughing, Steph slid off her chair. “As your partner in crime, this is something I’m well aware of.” She grabbed some quarters from the edge of the bar box. “You wanna play another?”
    “Sure. Rack ’em.” Desi took a seat and scanned the crowd that had gathered in the past hour. Not many had shown up from their regular crew. A young couple was shooting darts in the back corner. A few older bikers sat around sharing a pitcher of beer.
    Desi swallowed the last of her beer and glanced at the entrance when the growl of a few bikes pulling up reached her ears. She drew in a deep breath as anxious hope filled her stomach. If luck was smiling on her, Desi’s latest obsession was on one of those Harleys and once he was inside she’d be able to mentally undress him with her— Hell, there he was.
    She moved to her friend’s side, watching as Mr. Tall and Delicious made his way to the bar. “Griffin just rolled in.”
    “Yay! You’ll be nice and distracted now, and I might actually win this game.” Steph elbowed her and smiled, her brown eyes glittering in excitement.
    “Ha! You wish.” She lined up on the cue ball and took her shot. Colors scattered over the green felt and the five ball dropped in a corner pocket. “Solids.”
    “Fuck me. You almost always sink a ball on the break.”
    “So…you do remember in my drunken stupor last weekend I told Baron to let Griffin know his presence was requested in my bed, right?” She took her shot, but missed. “You’re up.”
    Steph tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “I believe you said something about wanting to lick honey off his body. If I’m not mistaken.”
    Desi cringed. “I might’ve mentioned something about that too. I was about four beers and a shot of Jack in at that point. You should’ve taped my mouth shut.”
    “Please. I had to roll your ass to bed that night. You think Baron told him?”
    “I hope not.” Desi glanced over at her obsession. “Griffin’s gorgeous and basically sex on a stick. Way more than I could ever hope to handle.”
    Griffin Sinclair leaned against the bar in his usual spot, a bottle of Miller Genuine Draft pressed to his lips. His shaggy dark hair hung low on his forehead and he ran a fingerless-gloved hand through it. He was tall, over six feet, and built like a brick shit house. Griffin turned his head and pinned Desi with a stare, and then crooked his finger indicating her to come to him.
    Her breath caught and she nodded. Damn, her feet felt rooted in place and she had to give herself a mental kick in the ass to get moving. Goddamn, he’s beautiful. She walked the short distance without tripping over herself or anyone else, thank fuck.
    Stopping before him, she gazed up into his light hazel eyes. “You beckoned?”
    “I did.” He smirked. “Was hoping I’d find you here tonight.”
    “Yeah, why’s that?” She tucked her thumbs in her back pockets and rocked her denim-clad hips from side to side.
    “I got a message this week.” He scratched his goatee.
    “Did you?” Oh, shit. Play it cool, Desi.
    With his gaze locked with hers, Griffin nodded and tipped his bottle back. The man was solid muscle, honed the old-fashioned way, by manual labor. She eyed the smattering of tattoos on his arms. Various black and gray skulls covered one forearm and the other had a grim reaper and crows. Both designs extended up his hefty biceps and disappeared under the sleeves of his T-shirt.
    Standing so