Breaking His Rules (13 page)

Putting those thoughts aside, I opened my locker and stripped out of my sweater and jeans. A low whistle pierced the air. I glanced up to find another bartender, Rick, gaping openly at me without a lick of shame.

“Damn, girl,” he said with an appreciative smile. “Who’s the lucky guy you’re meeting after work? Those aren’t your standard issue cotton underwear.”

I smirked and reached for my dress. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Are those velvet?” Eric didn’t mask his incredulous tone as he closed the distance between us for a closer look. He spanked my bottom playfully and then jumped out of the way when I swatted his hand. A soft purr reverberated in his throat. “Very nice, Samantha. Our shift ends at the same time. Just sayin’.”

“Shut up,” I said with a bark of laughter. “Not a chance in hell. Maybe I’ll start dressing behind the changing curtain.”

“Perhaps that would be a wise choice.”

Everyone froze in their spots and gaped over my shoulder toward the entrance, leaving a deafening silence hovering in the locker room. The cold bite of those words should’ve sent a chill of anxiety up my spine, but all I felt was the warmth of Damon’s deep baritone caressing me.
Shit!
Had he heard Eric’s tactless teasing?

Closing my eyes, I took a steadying breath. Damon couldn’t know it was an innocent joke and it was up to me to set him straight before his control freak took over and fired Eric. My heart fluttered as I turned to face him. His steely gaze pierced through me with a scolding heat.

Well, fuck it. He might have every other person in the room quaking under his glare, but Damon didn’t get to play mind control games with me. I took my sweet time wrapping my dress around my body, letting him get an eyeful of the goods he’d unwrap this evening, if I had anything to say about it.

“Mr. Baxter.” My formal acknowledgment would’ve sliced through the tension radiating off him if it hadn’t come out sounding hoarse and more than a little breathy. How was I supposed to appear contrite when I wanted to drag him behind one of those damn curtains and fuck him senseless? Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I don’t recall a rule dictating where I change my clothes.”

To my surprise, instead of berating me directly, Damon folded his arms and glared at Eric. “I’ll have to correct that oversight. We want to minimize the risk with respect to rule number two—no dating or intercourse with coworkers. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Foster?”

The cold expression in Damon’s eyes made it clear that Eric was walking on thin ice.

“Yes, sir,” Eric said, averting his gaze and striding to the suggestion box. “Excellent suggestion. I’ll submit it myself.”

It was almost comical the way Eric cowered like a bad puppy with his tail between his legs, and I was tempted to jump to his defense. But I held my tongue, because Damon was holding it together and I valued my job every bit as much as the next guy. There was no way I was giving Damon a reason to fire my ass.

“Thank you.” Damon smiled then and his posture relaxed. The ripple effect in the room was palpable. “I stopped by to thank each of you for your efforts and encourage use of the suggestion box. Outstanding staff make or break a nightclub,” Damon said, meeting the curious gazes of my coworkers. “I look forward to reading your suggestions. I’m especially interested in ideas you might have for keeping us one step above the competition.” His gaze returned to me. “And our journey starts tonight with the first informal suggestion I received from Ms. Rayne.”

My brow lifted as a frenzy of murmurs broke out. No one was more shocked than me at Damon’s declaration.

“Tonight we’ll offer dirty martinis as our drink special from seven to nine o’clock. Four bartenders will compete to make the winning variation of the drink special. Three hand-selected customers will serve as judges. Our first face off will include Samantha, Eric, Joel, and Tara.”

A round of applause greeted his announcement. “It’s a fabulous suggestion. Only I’ve added a twist.” He licked his lips and grinned. “I’m joining the competition, and anyone who can beat me in ranking earns a five hundred dollar bonus.”

Joel howled and fist-bumped Eric. “Cha-ching!”

The smirk on Damon’s lips was priceless. He was a shrewd businessman who knew how to motivate, but he wasn’t an idiot. I’d tasted his dirty martini and knew it would be hard to beat. But in the end, I suspected it might come down to sheer preference of the judges.

Rick shook his head at Joel’s antics and raised his hand before asking, “Will we all get an opportunity in the future to challenge you?”

“Yes.” Damon shifted his stance and slid his hands into his pant pockets. “We’ll set up a rotation so that each of you has an opportunity once per quarter at earning a bonus. The length of the program will depend on its popularity with our customers.”

Someone called out from the back of the room. “What about waiters and waitresses?”

Damon gestured toward the suggestion box with a flick of his head. “I’m all ears. Make a suggestion worthwhile and it’ll happen. It’s in your hands.” He glanced at his watch. “Time to hit the floor. Good luck! Competition starts at six o’clock sharp on the main level.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and left the locker room in a twitter of excited chatter. If anyone had doubted the sincerity of the suggestion box before, those doubts had been erased entirely.

Eric tossed his street clothes into his locker and leaned his arm against the cold metal door. His head drooped and he blew out a tortured breath. “What the fuck? My nut sack shriveled to the size of a pea when he glared at me. Thanks for that harrowing experience, Samantha. I can’t believe he came into the locker room. That’s a first.”

I giggled and zipped up my knee-high leather boots. “That’ll teach you to keep your smart-ass comments to yourself. Shocked the hell out of me, too. But it’s over. Better channel that Foster charm and hope the panel of judges are female if you want to score a bonus. Something tells me he’ll give us a run for our money.”

When six o’clock rolled around, a sizable crowd gathered at the main bar. Damon allowed the bouncer to select the three judges but with express orders to pick two males and one female. I winked at the judges as we took our places behind the bar.

Eric stood directly next to me and leaned down to whisper, “Ready to give ’em a show? We’re coming out on top. Hands down.”

My smile was the only answer I gave as I turned my attention to Damon. He stood in the middle, flanked by Joel and Tara on one side, and me and Eric on the other. Damon rolled up his sleeves and announced a single rule governing the competition—gin martinis only—anything else wasn’t worthy of the title martini. We had five minutes to make one drink to be poured evenly into three glasses.

“May the best bartender win,” the female judge shouted. “Go!”

Eric raced to the liquor shelves and tossed the gin and vermouth bottles over his shoulder. The on-looking crowd gasped as I caught the bottles easily and flipped them behind my back for a graceful over the shoulder move before setting them on the bar top.

“So that’s how we’re going to play it?” Damon asked with a wink.

He spun a tin in his right hand and then thumb-rolled it as he scooped up ice. When the tin was full, he stole my bottle of vermouth and flat tossed it behind his back. He caught it in one smooth movement and poured a splash of vermouth into the tin.

“Cheater!” I shouted over the roar of the crowd. My grin spread from ear to ear. “You’re in direct violation of rule number four. Use a jigger! I move to have you disqualified.”

Damon’s eyes sparkled. “I told you at the start there was only one rule. Gin, baby.”

Joel gave a thumbs up and reached for a bottle, refusing to be outdone. He awed the crowd with an over the shoulder gin bottle bump to Tara, who promptly stalled it on her forearm before pouring into her tin.

We laughed and chatted with the judges while preparing our drinks. If anyone doubted Damon’s abilities at the onset of the competition, those doubts were silenced forever. He had been holding out, because the moves he used were classic flair bartending and I was dying to know the history behind his acquired skills.

I kept a close eye on Damon, unable to staunch my curiosity. At some point I was bound to discover his special ingredient. When he put the finishing touches on his drink, I finally had my answer.

“Blue cheese,” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “You use stuffed olives.”

“Just one, so it doesn’t overpower the drink.” Damon poured his dirty martini into three glasses and slid them in front of the judges.

Tara tapped her fingers against the bar as the judges tasted each of our drinks, making notes on the pad of paper provided. Five hundred dollars was a lot of cash riding on their decision and Damon had wisely kept that fact hidden. The judges finally compared notes and handed the results to Damon. He smirked at me with a shake of his head.

“First place goes to…” He pointed his finger and let it pass several times over us before directing it at himself. “Me!”

The crowd roared their approval and I stood staring at Damon with pursed lips. He was never going to let me live this down.

“No flippin’ way,” Joel shouted in disbelief as he reached for the tally sheet. His eyes flew over the results and he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.

Damon clapped him on the shoulder. “According to the judges, you were a very close second followed by Samantha, Tara, and Eric. It’s game on, people. Better bring your ‘A’ game next time.”

He gazed at me with eyes full of laughter and shook my hand. Leaning in, he whispered, “I always get what I want.”

Cocky bastard.

Damon accepted congratulations from the other bartenders and gave quick instructions on how to make the perfect martini. The remainder of the evening flew by. Damon was never far away as he mingled with the guests enjoying the evening special. My gaze strayed toward him more than once over the course of my shift. Tingles filled my belly whenever I caught his heated stare. By the time I headed out the door, every nerve ending in my body was vibrating with need.

A familiar BMW waited at the curb. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure I was alone before strolling up to it. The back passenger window rolled down.

“Need a lift home?” Damon asked with a slight curve of his lips.

I pulled open the door and slid in next to him. One second later, the car was merging into traffic and I was straddling Damon’s lap with my lips locked on his and my fingers buried in his hair. His hands cupped my ass and massaged as his mouth slanted over mine. The growing bulge in his pants pressed hard against my crotch and I groaned, pressing down and bucking my hips until a sweet ache built in me.

“Can you tell I missed you?” I asked while raining kisses along his cheek and neck. He turned his face away to give me better access and I suckled along his collarbone. “I think you missed me, too.”

“Hmmm…yes.” His voice was husky and breathless when he whispered, “I’m sleeping over. It’s already Monday, so you’re all mine for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Okay.” I pulled back and opened the next four buttons on his shirt to gain better access to his chest and abdomen. His muscles flexed under my watchful gaze, inviting me to explore the contours with my hands. Warm flesh came alive under my touch and I ached to have his naked body covering mine.

“My panties came with a matching cheetah print collar.” His eyes darkened and I chuckled huskily before pinching one of his taut nipples. “It has silver chains leading from here”—I placed a single finger at the base of his throat and trailed a line down to his nipple in a wide arc—“to here with little cheetah print pasties covering only my nipples.” His breath hitched and I ground my pussy harder against his raging hard-on. “If you’re a good boy, I might even wear the cat ear headpiece and let you strap my hands together with your belt again.” I licked my lips and the corner of my mouth twitched. “But you have to promise you’ll untie the pink satin laces of my panties with your teeth.”

Damon thrust his tongue in my mouth and fucked it with ardor. His hands were all over my body; his fingers in my hair, down my back, and squeezing my nipples. My pussy was a sudden wet mass of nerves, throbbing in anticipation of his cock ramming into me.

With a low growl, he pulled back and held my head steady between his hands.

His gaze was fierce. “Don’t ever let me catch you strutting your perfect ass in sexy panties at work again.” His hands slid down my sides and over the curve of my breasts until they rested on my hips. “As long as you share my bed, this body belongs to me. Understood?”

I pressed my lips together to hide my smile and nodded. “One hundred percent.”

His lips brushed over mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying his soft and sensuous kisses. When we arrived at the front of my apartment, I stared into his gorgeous eyes to gauge his reaction to my next words.

“You’re sure you want to stay the night?” I asked with a hint of doubt. “My couch moonlights as my bed.”

He stroked his thumb on my cheek and nodded. “I’m a simple man beneath the suit, Samantha, and all I want right now is you.” He scrunched his nose for a second. “But do you mind if I jump in the shower? I went straight from the airport to Midnight Blue.”

The way he scrunched his nose was so at odds with the billionaire alpha maleness he usually exuded. I couldn’t help but rub my nose against his in a teasing gesture. “As long as you don’t mind smelling like jasmine and vanilla.”

“When I have my way with your body,” he whispered, “I’m going to smell like you either way.”

We ran up the stairs and after unlocking the door, I carefully slipped through the doorway to intercept Brandy before she could bolt out. Damon followed me in and flipped a switch near the entrance, bathing my studio apartment in warm light. Brandy purred in my arms and nuzzled into Damon’s hand when he pet her.

“Hello, girl.” He purred back. He dipped his head lower to catch my lips in a quick kiss. “I won’t be long.”

“Towels are in the linen closet outside the bathroom.”