Amelie's heart raced as she gazed up at the bartender, his intense, dark gaze holding her captive. Instead of answering his question, she simply parted her soft, plump lips even more and darted out the pink tip of her tongue to wet the slick, glistening surface. The bartender's eyes followed the movement, his gaze darkening with unmistakable hunger as he watched her small, teasing gesture. Amelie's chest heaved with anticipation, her ample bosom straining against the confines of her low-cut dress as she struggled to catch her breath.
Unable to resist any longer, Amelie closed her eyes, her long, sooty lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she leaned in the remaining distance between them. The bartender met her halfway, his lips claiming hers in a searing, passionate kiss that stole the breath from her lungs and set her body ablaze with desire. His mouth moved over hers with a skill and confidence that left her weak in the knees, his tongue delving past her parted lips to stroke along the smooth, slick surface of her own. Amelie moaned softly into the kiss, her fingers curling into the front of the bartender's shirt as she pressed herself against the hard, muscular length of his body.
Just as Amelie was losing herself in the heat of the passionate kiss, a sharp, masculine voice cut through the low murmur of the bar, breaking the spell that the bartender had woven around her. "Hey bartender, stop playing with the ladies and pour a drink, would ya?" the man called out, a note of impatience and a hint of annoyance coloring his words.
Amelie pulled back from the kiss, her eyes fluttering open to gaze up at the bartender's face. She could see the flash of irritation in his eyes before he schooled his features into a more neutral expression, his jaw clenching slightly as he glanced over at the man who had interrupted them. Amelie followed his gaze, turning her head to look at the source of the disturbance.
The man was handsome, in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way. He had a mop of unruly, sun-bleached blond hair that fell over his forehead in careless waves, and a face that was all sharp, angular planes and a strong, aquiline nose. His eyes were a striking blue, as bright and clear as a cloudless summer sky, and framed by long, dark lashes that any woman would kill for. He was dressed casually, in a simple white linen shirt that had been left open at the collar, revealing a glimpse of muscular throat, and a pair blue jeans that hugged his long, lean legs like a second skin. Despite his casual attire, there was an air of quiet confidence and raw, masculine energy that surrounded him.
The bartender's jaw clenched, a flicker of annoyance passing over his handsome features before he quickly schooled his expression into one of polite neutrality. "Pardon, monsieur," he murmured, his tone a low, calm rumble as he stepped away from Amelie and reached for the bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind him. "I'll be right with you," he promised, pouring a generous measure of the amber liquid into the man's glass with practiced efficiency.
Amelie took the brief respite to catch her breath, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. She could feel the bartender's gaze on her, could sense his reluctance to leave her side, but she gave him a small, encouraging smile as she smoothed down her dress and crossed her legs, waiting for him to return. As she sat there, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and anticipation, wondering just how far the bartender would have taken things if they hadn't been interrupted. And more importantly, wondering if she would have let him.
As the bartender moved to pour the handsome stranger his drink, Amelie found herself acutely aware of the empty barstool beside her. Before she could react or protest, the man had already claimed the seat, the leather creaking softly beneath his weight as he settled himself beside her.
Amelie glanced over at him, her eyes wide and a touch wary as she took a quick sip of her gin and tonic, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the heat that still burned in her veins. She could feel the warmth of his body, could sense the raw, masculine energy that seemed to emanate from him in waves, and it set her nerves on edge with a sudden, inexplicable tension.
"I... I apologize for making your bartender so busy just now," Amelie murmured, her voice a low, slightly breathless murmur as she glanced down at her drink, watching the ice cubes clink together as she swirled the glass gently in her hands. "That wasn't my intention, I assure you. I didn't mean to cause any discomfort for the other patrons," she said, a note of apology and a hint of embarrassment coloring her words.
The man turned to look at her, his striking blue eyes meeting hers with a look of amused, almost mocking curiosity. "Oh, don't worry about it, mademoiselle," he said, his tone a low, slightly drawling murmur that sent a small shiver down Amelie's spine. "I think we can both agree that the bartender didn't seem to mind... entertaining you," he teased, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he leaned in a little closer, his gaze dropping briefly to the swell of her cleavage before meeting her eyes once more. "Besides, I have a feeling that a woman as stunningly beautiful as you is worth a little delay in service," he finished, his voice a low, flirtatious rumble that made Amelie's heart skip a beat.
Amelie couldn't help but smirk at the man's bold flirtation, a mischievous glint appearing in her hazel eyes as she tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze with a look of amused, almost challenging curiosity. "Why thank you for the compliment, Monsieur...?" she murmured, her voice a low, playful murmur as she let the question hang in the air between them.
"Reeves. Richard Reeves," the man replied, a note of self-assurance and quiet confidence in his tone as he held out his hand to her, his long, dexterous fingers outstretched in a gesture of introduction.
Amelie placed her slender hand in his, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip as she gave his hand a firm, decisive shake. "Enchantée, Monsieur Reeves," she said, a note of flirtatious amusement in her voice as she smiled up at him, her full, pouty lips curving into a devastatingly beautiful smile. "I am Amelie... Amelie Laurent," she introduced herself, her tone a low, melodic murmur that seemed to dance over his skin like a caress.
Richard's eyes flashed with a sudden, intense interest as he heard her name, his gaze sharpening with a look of appreciation and a hint of something more primal. "Amelie," he repeated, rolling the syllables of her name over his tongue as if tasting them. "What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said, his voice a low, approving rumble as he leaned in a little closer, his gaze dropping briefly to the swell of her cleavage before meeting her eyes once more with a slow, wicked grin. "I have a feeling that we're going to get along very well indeed, Mademoiselle Laurent," he finished, his tone a low, flirtatious murmur that sent a bolt of electricity zinging down Amelie's spine.