Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)

by Claire Kingsley

I looked up, meeting his eyes. Before I even started speaking, I could tell my filter was gone—smashed to pieces by Shepherd’s vulnerability. “Thank you for inviting me. Your band is amazing and you’re really good and I’m having a very hard time staying over here on my side of the table. Because you’re so sexy all I want to do right now is launch myself at you.” Without a second’s hesitation, he stood and yanked me off my stool. His strong hands held me tight against him as he leaned down and took my mouth in a hard kiss. I flung my arms around his shoulders and had to stop myself from jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. My fingers tangled in his messy hair as his tongue delved into my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and sex and potent masculinity. Under normal circumstances, I would have held back a little. After all, we were in a public place. But there was no holding back now. His arms were hot steel around me, his delicious mouth tangling with mine. My heart beat furiously as he sucked on my lower lip, one hand moving beneath my shirt to splay across my ribs. I wanted to rip his clothes off—rip my clothes off—but a tiny part of me, way back in the recesses of my hormone-soaked brain, was still rational. We were in a bar, surrounded by people. I pulled back, almost gasping for breath. “Where’s your car?” “I’m parked out back.” “Let’s go.” He nodded, grabbing my hand, and led me through the crowd to a side door. My vision was hazy, my lips sensitive and swollen, e...