Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,83

on either the surface of the bar or the drink in front of him.

Star slunk out from behind the bar and leaned against the wall near me. “No problems… yet,” she said low into my ear, barely audible over the din of the bar.

And she was right. When Dawson was drinking like this, he was trouble waiting to happen—in more ways than one. And Star didn’t even know about what had happened between Dawson and me.

I stared at the broad line of his shoulders and narrow waist in his tight blue Henley, a color I knew made his sharp gray eyes look closer to silver. I shouldn’t have been staring at all. I should’ve told Gunnar to work the back door so I could bounce front and be as far away from Dawson as possible. It would’ve been easier that way, so I could forget our night together had ever happened. The sex was fucking amazing, but it also needed to be the first and only time we had sex. Dawson had capital-I issues, and I did not have the time or the energy to deal with it.

God, the sex really had been fucking incredible, though. Two months had passed since I’d wrangled his pissy self into the back of my car and hauled him home. He’d passed out on the couch that night, then woken up sober and furious the next day, early enough in the morning that the sky was gray with the threat of dawn. He’d stomped into my room, shirtless, eyes blazing, demanding an explanation.

And something had just fucking… come over me. I’d grabbed him and pulled him onto my bed, shutting him up with a hard kiss. And before I’d known it, we were wrestling for dominance in my sheets, and I fucked him senseless with one hand buried in his hair as he stifled his moans, biting my shoulder hard.

I’d never had sex like that before. Sex that was a little mean, a little aggressive, and hot as hell, leaving me wanting more.

And that was my first time with a man. Ever.

Ever.

I’d never, even been attracted to a man before, not really. Only in passing, brief and meaningless. And I knew I had my own issues with impulse control, but that morning with Dawson had been… next level. What was it about him that had made me act like that? What was it about Dawson that still had me staring at his back like this even as he sucked down drinks like it was his last night on Earth?

It’d been really stupid, and luckily, Dawson had been acting the same as I had afterward—pretending it hadn’t happened. That was better for both of us. He was technically still working for the club on the renovations, and I’d been on enforcement duty, so it was a bad fucking choice for both of us.

Knowing that hadn’t stopped me from returning to the memory, though. A little more often than I was willing to admit, too. In the shower, in bed, even in boring church meetings.

“He can really throw them back, can’t he?” Star muttered.

“Seriously,” I agreed. “Reminds me of me.”

Star knocked her shoulder against mine. “That hasn’t been you for a long time.”

“Sure, but I know it when I see it.”

Star was right—I’d been sober for six years now. But I’d had a real knack for partying as a teenager, and by nineteen I was already dependent on alcohol and getting a little too friendly with party drugs.

When I patched into what was at that point the Liberty Crew, one of the stipulations was that I try Alcoholics Anonymous. Mal hadn’t made any demands beyond that—just try it. To my surprise, the program had resonated with me, and since then I’d been heavily involved with my local group, and now I was working as a sponsor. And all that experience meant I knew a trip to rock bottom when I saw one.

Dawson was still functioning, though. For now. I’d seen him working well plenty of times. But who knew how bad it was? Was he starting his day with it yet? Stealing sips throughout the day to steady his hands?

I pushed the thoughts from my mind. That wasn’t any of my business. He wasn’t in my group, and if he had no intention of changing, there was no reason for me to get involved. Right now, my main concern was making sure he didn’t cause too much trouble at Ballast when he inevitably got too drunk.

Dawson