Will an unexpected encounter leave Sharon's heart hijacked?
When Sharon Blake meets Kyle Phillips her first instinct is to simply seek the pleasure she's certain he can give her. But surprisingly, she feels a strong connection with him, something she's never experienced before, and that conflicts with everything she's always believed—sex is sex and nothing more.
The last woman Kyle trusted with his heart betrayed him, and he has no interest in getting involved with anyone. There's only one problem—now that he's met Sharon, he craves her touch, her laughter, the look in her eyes when he pulls her near.
Kyle and Sharon soon realize that being apart isn't an option. Someone else, though, has different plans for Kyle, and Sharon is left questioning everything he's told her. Kyle tries to explain, to make things right again, but Sharon doesn't know if she can trust him, and her instinct is to walk away now before her heart is bruised even further.
Content Warning: strong language and graphic sex
The small blonde waitress placed a third beer on the table in front of him. Her breasts were at eye level, nipples looking tight as stones poked at the thin material of her top. The first time Kyle saw her behind the bar he knew she would be hard to forget. Lucky for him, she was his server.
"Two-fifty," she said, smiling. "Are you gonna drink those?" She pointed to the full bottles in front of him.
"Waiting for some friends. Check back with me in a few minutes." He handed her a five dollar bill. "Keep the change."
"Thanks." Her chest swelled, perfect mounds inches from his face. The light blue v-neck, lace top she wore was held up by thin straps. It was cut low, giving him a peek at what lie beneath. As she turned and sauntered to the bar, he couldn't help but stare.
She propped her elbows on the countertop and leaned over. Her round butt in the air had him practically salivating, and no matter how hard he tried, his eyes would only divert for a second before finding their way back to her.
He watched as the bartender handed her a shot and she tossed it back. As if she sensed him gawking, the waitress turned her head, propping her chin on her shoulder, and grinned.
Leaving the bar, she walked straight over to him, taking a seat in the chair next to his as though it were hers all along. "Why are you watching me?" she asked matter-of-factly, which made him cough in surprise. Was it that obvious? "You ordered at the bar first, right?"
"I…um," he stuttered and gave up on an explanation.
She smiled again, most likely at catching him off guard. He decided drinking the beer in front of him wouldn't be a bad idea and grabbed one of the bottles, chugged half, and sat it down. He eyed her with curiosity and pressed his sweating palms against his jeans.
Say something! "How long have you been here?"
She arched her left eyebrow. "You mean as in, tonight?"
"Working here, as in days, weeks, months, years."
"A few weeks." She crossed one leg over the other, hiking the already short, black skirt up her thigh, exposing more of her silky skin. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm on my break."
"And you chose to spend it with me?"
She shrugged her right shoulder and picked up a pack of cigarettes from the table he hadn't noticed her put there when she sat. She lit one, the flame from the lighter making it possible for him to notice her eyes had a green tint to them. "Your table is empty."
He playfully scoffed, amused at her excuse. There were at least six unoccupied tables in the room. "When does the band start?"
She looked down at her watch. Silver with rhinestones, it fit loose like a bracelet. "In about an hour. They start at ten. What's your name?"
He drank another quarter of the beer. "Kyle Phillips. You?"
"Sharon Blake." She reached up and pulled her long hair from the back of her neck and let it fall. "Is this your first time here? I've never seen you around. Are you from Pineville?"
Kyle cleared his throat. She was making observations, asking questions. He'd been divorced for three months, but this was his first time at a bar since meeting his ex-wife nine years ago, and he wasn't certain if he should explain his situation—a fresh divorcé. He decided to go with direct answers. "I live about three miles outside of town. And no, I don't get out much."
"Huh." She tugged on the cigarette and then snuffed the rest of it out in an ashtray at the center of the table. "I'm trying to quit."
"Six years smoke free for me. It was one of the hardest things I've done."
She eyed him carefully. "Are you meeting someone?"
"A friend. He should be here any time." Kyle peeled his gaze from her and scanned the growing crowd through the dimly lit room, suddenly hoping his friend didn't show for a while. He gulped more beer. "How long are you on break?"
"I've got a few minutes." Her eyes moved over him and he wondered how evident it was that he wanted to taste her skin. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought I might get you something to drink. But then, if you work here—"
"My drinks are free." She laughed and reached for his stash of untouched beer. "Do you mind?" The waitress…Sharon…didn't wait for an answer before popping the top and taking a sip. "Kyle Phillips, I need your help."