17.🍸 Steam Roller

**KEKE**


When Nico and I get back to the bar, Justice, with a dark look in Nico’s direction, wastes no time in taking the peanuts from him. His next movement is to point his scarred finger at the other end of the bar. “Keke, those women need attention. I’ll fill the tins.”
I catch Nico throwing me a wink before I turn my head to stifle a giggle, feeling lighter than I have since... well... it’s been years.
Justice is finally showing an interest...in me.
I move down the bar to the thirsty women. They are anything but subtle. They boldly scan Justice from head to toe as he laughs it up with Joe, Nico, and few other regulars.
While I work, I feel Justice’s lingering gaze. Every time I look at him, his eyes stay locked on mine until I turn away. Heat builds between us as the night wears on, closing out the cold. When we pass each other behind the bar, the air crackles with electricity, making my nipples tighten and my pussy pulse with need.
With my mind on the possibilities of the evening ahead, I mess up several orders. Luckily, everyone remains nice, forgiving my mistakes.
Must be down to the huge smile that stays plastered on my face.


At thirty minutes before closing, the bar finally thins out enough to where Nico, who has thrown me more than a few discreet thumbs ups, leaves his stool and walks towards me. Nico it seems is intent on making a last-ditch effort to force Justice into action.
Thank the Lord above for his tenacity.
“Keke,” Justice says over the disco beat of the song on the jukebox. “Can you go to the back and uh… get started on the glasses?”
I have to give Nico props for his acting skills. His look of disappointment seems so realistic, Justice sports a smug smile.
I wipe a grin from my face and head to the back after a goodnight wave to the Volkov brothers.
Left alone with nothing to distract me, thoughts of this evening crowd my mind.
If Justice doesn’t do anything tonight...
Shit! What if he does?
What if I can’t keep it casual? Will that affect my relationship with the kids?
Why did Justice hold back in the first place? Does he want more?
What if I do?
I can’t. I must stay strong.
But can I?
Being without a man for almost eighteen months is probably why my mind is crossing lines. I mean, I’m selective on who I let in my bed. Even at the ripe age of thirty, I’ve had less than a handful of partners, most of whom I’m still in touch with and consider friends.
I turn on the water to rinse the glasses. As it warms up, I let my thoughts travel to the past.
There was Eamon—he of a thousand freckles. Eamon was my partner in crime at the Hairy Horse in Dublin. Through long conversations over the course of half a year we discovered we were both virgins, eager to get rid of the title. After a late-night clubbing session with mutual friends, he took me back to his room, and there I lost my V-card to the soundtrack of his three roommates’ drunken laughter cheering us on from the living room.
The morning after, Eamon and I suffered through an awkward breakfast until I drummed up the courage to tell him we were better off as friends.
Not that the sex was bad. It just wasn’t earth-shattering, and in the morning's light, I realized I didn’t like him like that.
Besides, my wanderlust was too ingrained. A week later when an opportunity arose in England, I didn’t hesitate to accept it.
Then there was Lars in Germany. He had long dark hair, a long nose, and even longer body. He played the bass guitar in a garage band called Screaming Piloten. Lars and I lasted until I was forced to leave the country, courtesy of German immigration. After a drought of two years, Diego, a bartender, happened during a two-week holiday in Corsica. Then there was Dubai—
“You doing okay, Keke?”
I whirl to see Justice leaning against the doorjamb. Even in that position, he fills the space with his broad shoulders.
And damn if his smile doesn’t outshine the halogen in the ceiling.
“I’m fine,” I say, giving him my back so he won’t see my grin of happiness.
“Joe and his brother left.” His sentence hangs in the air while he waits for my reaction.
If he expects disappointment, it won’t be forthcoming. Nico is cool, but he has his and I want mine.
Justice continues while I put the last few glasses in the dishwasher. “He, Nico that is, asked me to tell you goodnight.”
I don’t have to turn to know he is behind me. So close, I can feel the heat from his body... smell his sandalwood scent.
I lick my lips at the possibilities of us.
“That’s nice of him.” I press the buttons to start the machine. As it whirs to life, I stir the pot of jealousy. “Maybe next time he comes in, the bar won’t be so busy, and I’ll get to talk to him more.”
In the next second, Justice spins me around. “Is he what you want, Keke?”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, showing him exactly whom I want.
Hoping...
My wish... hell, my prayer is answered when his lips meet mine. Not in a feather kiss, but one so possessive I feel it in my feet. His hand travels up my neck and into my hair, clutching the strands in a firm but gentle grip. His tongue delves into my open mouth with surety and purpose. I moan into his mouth as he tugs at my lips with his teeth, giving me the perfect sensation of pleasure and pain. He keeps one hand in my hair, increasing his grip with the tempo of his kiss, moving the other down my side…to my hip…then to cup an ass cheek, pulling me close enough to get a whisper of the cock, straining the front of his jeans. I heat up, my entire body pulsing with a need so great, I start to shiver. Justice breaks our kiss to caresses the side of my cheek with his thick thumb.
The soft movement brushes away the wetness of my tears.
Wait. Am I crying?
I break from his lips, embarrassed from the top of my hair to my throbbing core at how a kiss... and damn what a kiss, affected me.
Since getting shot, achieving what I want always pushes my anxiety to the forefront.
And with what happened in Dubai, I don’t believe in happiness as for me it never lasts.
Why I expected this time to be different, I don’t know.
Chagrin makes it hard to meet his eyes, so I keep my gaze on his chest instead. His is rising and falling as rapidly as my own.
His voice full of worry as he asks, “What’s wrong, Keke?” He drops his hands and takes one step back. “Are you mad because I asked you to get the peanuts?”
I let out a watery giggle, shame at my desperate want for him causing my eyes to cut to his and away again.
How embarrassingly pathetic.
He rakes it through his tawny hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why I let you get them all this time. I never let Pippa do it.”
My body turns to stone and my thawed heart freezes up. I’m so chilled, I tremble.
Her. Again.
He helped her but wouldn’t help me.
So damn typical, it’s like déjà vu.
I’ve heard Justice talking to her with a soft voice, his eyes glowing. I’ve seen a few of her texts on his phone when he’s left it on the bar.
It will always be that woman.
He loved...no loves her and probably always will.
I’m so damn stupid.
I step away from his overpowering proximity until the trance he had me under is broken. The need to ghost is so overpowering, I want to run into the night and never come back.
Instead, I settle for leaving the room as quickly as my feet can carry me.
“I’ll sweep up in the front,” I say, turning and grabbing the broom before heading out the door.
And par for the course of a shitty night, Justice doesn’t stop me.