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Sex on the Seats

Love After Midnight #4

Elise Faber Faber



This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.


Copyright © 2021 Elise Faber

Print ISBN-13: 978-1-946140-93-7

Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-946140-94-4

Cover Art by Jena Brignola


Love After Midnight

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20


Love After Midnight

Love After Midnight

Also by Elise Faber Faber

About the Author

Love After Midnight

Rum And Notes

Virgin Daiquiri

On The Rocks

Sex On The Seats

Chapter One


I didn’t know what in the fuck I was doing in a bar at midnight on a weeknight.

Not sleeping.

Not getting drunk.

Not working.

Not doing anything aside from nursing the single beer that Hayden’s girlfriend had pulled for me several hours ago.

And staring at myself in the mirror behind the bar, wondering how in the world I’d gotten to this place.

Less in an at-the-actual-bar question and more of a what-the-fuck-was-I-doing-with-my-life sort of way. I’d built connections in the world of private military operations. I took down bad guys on the regular with hardly more than my computer and my wits.

But . . . I didn’t have that.

That being what the rest of this fucking bar composed almost entirely of couples had.


Multiple different groups of couples in the booths in the back, all with affection shining in their eyes while they partook in nonstop cuddling. It was sickening . . . and something I’d witnessed many times over in the last hours since Hayden had dragged me here after one of our few in-person meetings.

We’d needed to devise a strategy to take down a ring of hackers trying to sell people’s personal information, a really fucking sneaky ring, and sometimes that meant having to look outside the box . . . or the secure chat window that was my preferred mode of contact.

Look, I could schmooze and be charming and woo new clients just as easily as I could hack through someone’s firewall.

But two guesses as to which I preferred.

And it really better only take one.

Anyway, I knew I should have left hours before, but something had made me stay. Maybe the handsome black bartender, who’d swept his beautiful blond girlfriend up into a kiss when she’d brought him a plate of cookies—and yes, I was good enough at my job to know that the bartender was Brent and his fiancé was Iris. I’d done a full background on Hayden before I hired him, including his sister and her boyfriend, Kace, who owned the bar. All of whom were currently spending the majority of their time mooning over their significant others. Hayden to the pretty and spunky Anabelle, who I quite liked and seemed to alternate between faux annoyance with Hayden and love shining in those deep brown eyes. Since annoyance was an emotion I readily identified with, I could at least support that type of mooning. On the other hand, Kace and Brooke were nauseating.

Brooke was too damned cute with her pencil behind one ear, her red hair askew, her eyes focused on her laptop even as she and Kace seemed to unconsciously orbit one another.

When he was near, she shifted unconsciously in her seat, though her fingers didn’t stop. And he didn’t interrupt, just pressed a kiss to the top of her head, brushing his knuckles over her cheek, her nape, her arm, filling the glass in front of her with soda at regular intervals.

Love. Caring for one another. Instinctive.

Fucking fairy tales under neon bar signs.

“Here,” a silken male voice said.

Ignoring the way that voice slid over my skin, as though he were running a piece of delicate silk over my naked body, I glanced up into a pair of stunning hazel eyes. The different shades of green and gold and brown mixed together in a way that was both beautiful and completely unique.

But I didn’t react on the outside.

First, I’d seen plenty of beautiful men in my life. Second, I’d felt him approach, but since he’d spent the vast majority of the night well away from me, I hadn’t bothered to look too closely.

Not a threat. Moving on.

Now, I glanced down to see the drink in front of me. An orange and red concoction with a cherry floating on top of some ice cubes. A cheery red straw was perched on the side.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He rolled those gorgeous, unique eyes, and I actually felt my skin prickle in awareness. “Sex on the Beach.”

“Excuse me?” It was an arched question that sent amusement tap-dancing through his expression.

“Their”—he nodded at a group of couples hovering near his end of the bar—“ladies’ night was apparently crashed by their husbands. Now they’re enjoying ordering the dirtiest cocktails they can think of and having the men pay the tab. I mixed one too many and figured you could use something that wasn’t warm beer.”

I ran my finger through the condensation on the outside of the glass. “And Sex on the Beach was the dirtiest they could think of?”

“Apparently.” Lips twitching, he nudged it closer. “Have a sip. Despite the cheesy name, it’s actually pretty good.” He nodded at my beer. “And since you don’t seem to be enjoying your beer . . .”

“I’m not much of a beer girl.”

“What kind of girl are you?”


The way he said that, with the quiet note of heat hidden beneath all that silk, was troublesome. Even more troublesome was my body’s reaction.

Moisture pooled between my thighs. My nipples went

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