Free On His Turf by Jennifer Watts

down at the table and hands me a clear drink. I take a sip and my eyes burn at the strong taste of vodka.
    “If you’re going to get drunk I need to be able to watch you,” he explains as he sits down beside me and presses his large thigh against my smaller one.
    Marco returns with Matty and both of them are holding shot glasses in their hands. I glare at Matty who looks like he’s having the time of his life. Leigh wanders over from the next table where she’s been sitting with the suits. Her hair is mussed and her lipstick smudged and all of the sudden I don’t feel much like drinking anymore. I set the glass down and lean back against the seat. Leigh plops down on Marco’s lap and he doesn’t seem to mind but I can tell that she’s getting sloppy. Matty’s bright, unfocused eyes tell me he’s not far behind her and Shane is talking to a pretty girl sitting on his left. Seeing him leaned over and nodding at her words makes an unfamiliar feeling flare up in my stomach and I have the sudden urge to pick my drink back up and dump it all over her head. I close my eyes and all at once the cacophony of voices and stench of sweat and liquor hit me and I want to be anywhere but here. I let me head fall back and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to block it all out. I don’t open my eyes again until I feel a hand caress my cheek and when I do I find Shane’s mouth mere inches from mine.
    “Do you want to get out of here?” he asks in a low voice.
    “More than anything,” I whisper back. Without pause he takes my hands and lifts me off the leather couch before setting me on to my feet. “But I should tell my friends that I’m leaving,” I add.
    “Let them be; they are having fun. Marco and the boys will make sure they get home safely,” he answers, his eyes never leaving mine.
    I find myself trusting his word as I let him lead me through the crowd that’s twice as thick as when we first arrived. When we get outside I take a deep breath and raise my arm to signal a taxi but he tugs it back down and kisses my knuckles. “I’m driving,” he says and I shake my head no. “I’m fine, Carmelina. I haven’t had a drop. I’m in training.”
    I laugh and give him a look but then I realize he’s serious. “Then why come to a club?” I ask, genuinely curious.
    “Why is standing right in front of me. Do you even own a mirror, babe?” His eyes roam over my face and down the length of my body as he speaks. “It’s taking every ounce of my restraint not to throw you in the back of my car and tear that dress off of you.”
    “Oh,” I say, a little breathlessly.
    “I told you once before that you’re playing with fire when you wear little things like that around me.” He places a strong hand on my lower back in a claiming gesture and walks me down the block to his truck, which happens to be a huge midnight black Ford F150 Crew Cab. It just screams Texas boy and I giggle.
    “What’s funny?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.
    “I just kind of figured you for a fancy foreign car kind of guy.”
    “No self-respecting Texan would drive that shit. Trucks all the way, babe - the bigger the better.”
    “I agree, bigger is definitely better,” I say, biting my bottom lip teasingly and he releases a surprised grunt. I know I’m flirting but I can’t help myself. As he opens the passenger door and helps me in his fingers linger a little too long on my ass. I swat his hand away, earning me a groan.
    “Yours is the kind of ass men dream about.”
    “You are so crass sometimes,” I pout but I’m secretly flattered since it’s the one part of my body no amount of time at the gym can change. He walks around to the driver’s seat and hops in. Once inside he checks to see if I’m belted in which I find kind of cute.
    “You hungry?” he asks and as if on cue my stomach rumbles.
    “Actually I am since I skipped dinner.”
    He gives me a look and places a hand on the back of my headrest as he throws the truck