Red Dirt Heart 04 - Red Dirt Heart 4 Read Online Free

dance.”
    He stepped in closer and leaned against me. “You ain’t my number three.”
    I smiled at him. “Two? I would hope I’d rank higher than a wombat.”
    Charlie laughed and slid his hand around my back. “Number one. Always.”
    “Then prove it. Dance with me.”
    He did that growly-grumble thing he does, but shook his head. “I don’t dance.”
    Well, that’s just a lie, plain and simple, because two drinks after that, I made my way to the bar and spent fifteen seconds talking to some random guy who was nice enough to say hi and ask me about my accent. He had to lean in because the music was so loud, and that was when Charlie suddenly appeared, put his hand on my ass, glaring at the poor innocent guy I still hadn’t even answered yet, and dragged me back to the table where Sam and Ainsley were watching.
    Charlie, still holding my hand, downed the last of the beer and looked at a now very bemused Sam and Ainsley. He yelled over the music, “I’d just like to apologise in advance for what you’re about to see.”
    I barked out a laugh, and he led me out onto the dance floor.
    He wasn’t too far wrong when he said it’d only take a few beers to get him drunk. We’d usually only ever have a couple of drinks when we went into the Alice, and I guess not really being a big drinker, having a few quick ones was bound to hit him fast and hard.
    And this was the two sides of Charlie Sutton. Earlier tonight he was giving speeches and dominating a conference of bigwigs across the country bein’ the businessman he is, then here he was gettin’ his young and carefree self drunk and dancin’.
    He was a smiley drunk. A happy, handsy, can’t-dance-for-shit kind of drunk. He was all stumbly on his feet, and gropey with his hands, with a perma-grin and a don’t-even-fucking-think-about-it glare at other guys who might or might not have been looking at me. This possessive streak was a far cry from the nonchalance he showed back home, and I had to admit—it was fucking hot.
    The later it got, the more guys came in, the lights went down and the music went up. And after Charlie stopped drinking beer and started drinking bourbon, I don’t think it mattered where the hell we were.
    We drank some more and laughed with Sam and Ainsley. They were on the dance floor not far from us, getting their grinding on, all laughs and looks of love, and as the night wore on, I knew they’d be going home soon.
    I wasn’t too far wrong. Sam tapped our shoulders, Ainsley right behind him. “We’re off now,” he said with a grin. “You two behave and say, ‘Thanks, Sam, for bringing us here’.”
    Charlie laughed and mumbled, “Thanks, Sam, for bringing us here,” but he never let go of me, didn’t even watch them leave. He just gripped my ass and ground against me, kissing my neck. We were just two zippers away from fucking on the dance floor, and it was so heady. I knew we were a long way from home, but to see Charlie like this, in public, in a gay bar, to feel him against me, swaying to music only he seemed to hear was such a turn-on.
    I don’t know how many drinks he’d had, but normally Charlie would struggle to say things that were playing on his mind. Bourbon must have broken that filter, because he started murmuring things to me he’d never normally say, and things got dirtier with each song. “You have the hottest arse,” he said, pressing his lips to my neck. He whispered, hot and husky in my ear, “I love how you take all of me and how I can come inside you.”
    I pulled his head back and kissed him hard. He just writhed against me, rolling his hips into mine, kissing me back. In front of everyone. He didn’t care.
    He kissed over my jaw and put his lips to the shell of my ear. “And I fucking love it when you come in mine.”
    I fisted the hair on the back of his head and pulled his head right back again, sweeping his mouth with my tongue. It was so unlike Charlie, but he just didn’t seem to care that we