Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

“I guess I’m a little scared.”

“Don’t be. I’m here with you because you’re all I think about, Ivy. Do you understand?”

I swallow hard and manage a nod.

I’m about to take a sip of my beer, but he snatches it from my hand and settles it on the other side of him.

“Sober, Ivy,” he tells me. “I need you sober tonight.”

I look at him, surprised. He’s had at least a couple beers. He’s a little buzzed, his eyes are brighter than they were before.

Whooping sounds around us. The main event is about to begin, but I can’t take my eyes off Aidan. He slides into the stool next to me and takes my hand. His fingers entwine with mine and he settles it on his thigh. His grip is firm and warm. We both look at the screen, but all my attention is on his touch. His thumb runs along my skin in circular motions.

The men orbit around him naturally. I see Aidan in a whole new light as he integrates fine amongst them, smiling in that lazy way that makes my stomach flip-flop. He’s engaging. Fits well with the boys. This man can’t be as socially switched off as I thought if he’s so good at blending in.

“He stands no chance,” he tells the men, shaking his head with that cocky look. “He won’t make it past the fifth round.”

I laugh because they think he’s absurd. After watching the highlights, even I think his prediction is absurd.

The fight is grizzly. The two opponents are neck and neck the first few rounds. I squeeze Aidan’s hands every time a fist connects to someone’s face. He pulls me closer to him, until I’m off the stool and my back is against his front. I stare up at the screen, feeling his breaths against the back of my head. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, and his hand is still holding mine, his thumb still rubbing my skin.

“You’re going to be wrong!” I yell, wincing because the Scottish man is going to take the lanky dude down.

“He’s exhausting himself,” Aidan tells me.

“Admit you’re wrong!”

But Aidan admits nothing. The bar is buzzing and loud and patrons are losing their shit, standing around the screens, crossing their arms. I think a handful have put down some bets because of how tense they look.

Aidan should be watching, but I feel his eyes on me instead. He shuffles my hair to the side and then I feel his nose against the back of my neck. He runs his lips along my bare skin, leaving goosebumps behind. I swallow hard, trying to pay attention to the match but I find myself sagging against his front, trapped in his heat. I yearn for his touch, for his tongue along my skin, for the brush of his fingers along a very different part of me. I’m standing here in a crowd of people, watching a bloody match, and I’m slowly burning on the inside. He’s turning me on with the gentlest of touches, sending pulses of pleasure between my legs. I’ve never felt this way before.

"Ivy, Ivy, Ivy," he whispes lustfully.

I shut  my eyes for a split second, savoring his voice.

Out of nowhere, the match takes a sudden turn and the beautiful looking Brazilian fighter is coming out of nowhere, delivering fast swings against the Scotsman. He goes down fast, his face stunned. One more swing and he’s knocked out. Everyone is equally stunned. It throws me for a loop, sends me flying out of my lustful haze. I spin around to look at Aidan, my mouth open in surprise.

“How’d you know?!” I holler through the noise, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder.

He laughs and catches my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tenderly. “Feisty when you’re wrong, beauty,” he teases, sliding off the stool because the guys are shouting for him.

He turns away to exchange some words with them. I smile dazedly, admiring his profile. I blink away and look to my right, catching Terry’s eye. He’s grinning at me, shaking his head like he’s just caught me doing something. And he did. Didn’t I just tell him I was freshly separated and not looking for anything? I instantly shake Aidan’s hand off and take a step back. I’m a fool to think Aidan wouldn’t notice. His head snaps to mine and he raises his brows, amused. Maybe he takes it as me playing hard to get.

“Just antsy,” I try to explain. “Been here a while.”

He drops his head to my level. “Ready to get out of here, temptress?”

I nod, smiling at the nickname. “Sure.”

“I’ll take care of the bill. Be right back.”

Then he’s weaving through the crowd to get to the counter. Terry instantly comes up alongside me, and I just roll my eyes because he’s laughing.

“You knew it was Aidan West from the start,” he says, catching on. “You came here with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re just friends.”

“That was more than just friendly touching.”

I’m crimson. “We really are friends.”

“Oh, Ivy.” He glances over his shoulder at his group. “You’ll need to try harder to convince the rest of us.”

“Look” – I’m defending myself and it’s not a good look – “if he was with me in that way, would I have allowed those ladies to swarm him?”

Terry doesn’t appear convinced. In fact, now his face grows a little serious. “Aidan West was the biggest player around a couple years ago, sweetheart. Just be careful, alright?”

“I think he was a different man a couple years ago,” I correct him. “I’ve heard the rumours, Terry, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

Now he relents, nodding like he understands. “You’re right. People change, I guess, and no one really hears much about him anymore. I just get a little protective.”

My face gentles. “I’d rather have someone watch over me like that. Thanks.”

“Look,” he says, pulling out his phone from his pocket, “I want to be able to