"The Underground Fighter and His Kitten"
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Sasha "Kayo" Sokolov is a Russian fighter who was sent to America at a young age. One day, he met a young girl by the name of Everleigh Wilson, who taught him how to speak English, and helped him with his s...
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I never left. I sat at the bar, sipping on the same glass of liquor, watching her. She looked good with her long legs on display. She had on a pair of short, tight, black spandex with a black bra. It had rhinestones on the cup that sparkled with her every movement. A big smile came across her face as she poured a bottle of champagne into the glass of the "birthday boy."
I noticed the way his eyes stayed glued to her ass as he kept handing out tips to her. He probably thought each dollar would bring her one step closer to his bed. It didn't help that she kept smiling at him. He probably thought she wanted him, but I knew that deep down she really didn't.
"Hey, can I get you a drink?" A feminine voice asked from beside me. I tore my gaze away from Everleigh to look at a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes to match. She had a flirty smile on her face as she leaned in closer to me using the bar table for support.
"No," I answered, turning back Everleigh. She was too focused on her job to notice me watching her every move. Her every smile stimulated my brain with deja vu. It was intoxicating in the best way. Like something one knows they shouldn't have but craved it anyway.
"Okay, well, how about a dance?" the girl tried again.
I turned to her again. Her eyes were blazing into my own. Her nude-pink lips matched her light pink dress. I only had noticed it once she pushed her breasts out to grasp my attention. It wasn't like I was attracted to her. She really wasn't my taste, but the mere fact that she looked so inviting and open for anything was enough for me to almost down back a few shots and take her to a motel.
However, I had someone more important to take care of.
"Why are you still here?" Everleigh asked. I looked away from the barbie girl to gaze at the beautiful woman with her arms on her hips and a rise in her brows.
"I'm taking you home," I answered with a smirk.
"I told you no," she remarked with a scoff. This time, she crossed her arms over her chest and my gaze didn't hesitate to follow her movements. With my eyes on her cleavage, she quickly noticed and slammed her arms back down to her side like a drill sergeant.
"E!" someone called from the bar. My smirk grew when I noticed the tray of shots the bartender placed beside me.
She went by 'E.' I noticed that after her friends supposedly called her it every chance they got. Not to mention, the entire work staff made no bother to call her by her first name. I wasn't sure if it was because she preferred it, or they did. Personally, I didn't like it.
She leaned down to pick up the shots, but before she could get up, I grabbed her wrist and leaned into her ear.
"I'm taking you home, Evie. Bring that sweet ass right back here when you get off of work," I whispered.
