Rite Of Passage by Infante Bosco Janine

Author:Infante Bosco, Janine [Infante Bosco, Janine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

B ess stuck out like a sore thumb in Bill’s Tavern and not because she had those fancy fucking clothes on either. Dressed in a denim skirt, a simple tank top and worn cowboy boots, she looked every bit like the girl I fucking remembered. Gorgeous and just as forbidden as she was when we were kids and she was my best friend. Back then, I gave a fuck. Now, not so much.

Keeping my eyes trained on the wild mane of dark curls, I make my way through the honky tonk bar. I watch as she downs a shot and slams the empty glass on top of the wooden bar before throwing her hands over her head and shimmying in her stool to the beat of the country tune playing on the jukebox. I don’t have to look around at every man to know they’re all staring at her, praying to whatever God they believe in that they’ll be the lucky bastard who gets to take her home tonight.

But that fucking honor is all mine.

Pushing some fucktard out of my way, I make my way towards Bess. Continuing to sway to the beat of the music, she closes her eyes, allowing me the opportunity to creep up behind her. Bending my head, I breathe in her scent and my dick twitches. I’m so fucked, and I don’t even give a shit. I may never get another chance and I’ve got no room for any more regrets.

All I got is here and now.

One night.

One girl.

One chance to get her out of my system.

“There’s the girl I remember,” I murmur against her ear.

Startled, her eyes spring open, and she jumps in her seat. I quickly react, grabbing her hips to keep her in place.

“Easy,” I say as my fingers flex against the waistband of her skirt. Her hands move to cover mine and she tries to shoo me away, but I tighten my hold. She turns her head to glance over her shoulder at me. Ignoring her perplexed stare, I focus on the bartender.

“Two of whatever she’s having and a couple of shots of bourbon,” I tell him before finally meeting her gaze.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I eye the empty shot glass for a split second before trailing my eyes over her body.

“Looks like I’m catching up.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Says who?”

“Me,” she replies, pushing my hands away. A frown ticks the corner of my lips at the loss of feeling her against me. “Go away, Ryan. You’re killing my buzz,” she complains as I settle into the stool next to her.

“How much have you had?” I question, motioning to the empty glass in front of her.

“What business is it of yours?” she fires back as the bartender slides our drinks in front of us. “The last time I checked you made it perfectly clear you had no interest in what I did,” she hisses, reaching for her shot glass. My hand closes over hers and my eyes narrow on hers.

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