The Last Stallion

Blake took another gulp of his beer and tried to shake out the dark thoughts closing in on him. Maybe after a few more drinks, he’d actually be able to forget his situation. Maybe.

The music screamed along, a bass-heavy beat pounding against the walls. Blake drained the last of his beer and turned around to face the bartender.

“Another, please,” he said. The bartender nodded, and soon another ice-cold bottle was cradled in Blake’s hand. He brought the bottle up to his lips and turned to face the crowd again. Before he could take a swig, however, a woman standing at the edge of the dance floor caught his attention. He lowered the bottle so he could get a better view.

Long legs, muscular yet slender, snaked their way up to a hot little black dress contained in a spider web of a sweater. Red curls spilled down the back of this beautiful creature in silky waves, stopping just above one taut-looking ass. If he was looking for…

But you’re not, so take it easy. Blake shook his head and took that first sip of beer, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the woman. When he was done drinking, however, he couldn’t stop his eyes from settling back on her. She was sandwiched between a girl about her size with funky short hair and a man in a black leather blazer.

Is she with the guy or is the other girl? Not that it mattered. It didn’t. It absolutely didn’t. God, she’s beautiful though.

Blake watched as Leather Blazer swept Short Hair onto the dance floor. A small smile tugged at Blake’s lips as Red Curls was left standing alone at the edge of the swarming crowd. Why did it please him to know she wasn’t with Leather Blazer?

She looked a little awkward standing on the fringe of the dancing. Like she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Her left foot tapped a rhythm, making all the muscles in her leg constrict and relax, constrict and relax. Blake couldn’t take his eyes off that shapely leg even though the beat it kept wasn’t quite in sync with the music.

As if under their own power, Blake’s feet took him a couple of steps closer to the dance floor—something his conscious mind would never do. The heat from the flickering overhead lights, from the crowd itself, gushed over him. He stopped just a few yards behind Red Curls, admiring the view of her in greater detail.

Go back to the bar, man. Don’t talk to her. You don’t need any more complications. Blake was about to head back to the safety of a bar stool when Red Curls turned around, catching him in a piercing, green-eyed gaze.

He wasn’t going anywhere now.