When I reach Rion, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the bar. “What can I get for you, stranger? Your usual?”
 
I’ve never seen him drink anything other than IPA, though he sometimes varies his brand.
 
His lips curl slightly. “I’ve had another shitty day. I can use something stronger tonight. I’ll take the Jack Daniels Single Barrel-Barrel Strength.”
 
“Damn. 130 proof. You’re not playing around tonight.”
 
He shakes his head and runs one of his big hands back through his already unruly hair. “I told you…shit day.”
 
I bite my lip. “Well, if the drink doesn’t help, I can think of something else that might improve your mood.”
 
And mine…
 
That’s about as direct as I can possibly be, and his pupils dilate while he holds my gaze. Heat crackles between us, and I fight the urge to look away from the intensity of the connection.
 
He leans forward across the bar, resting his elbows and mimicking my position. “Are you propositioning me?”
 
I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. “Proposition has such a dirty connotation.”
 
A smirk plays at his mouth. “Only if you make it dirty.”
 
“I’m just making an observation.”
 
He shrugs, and his eyes dip to my mouth. “An observation, huh?”
 
I nod slowly.
 
“Well,” he leans even closer, “then I’m going to make an observation of my own.”
 
“Yeah, what’s that?”
 
“You have absolutely beautiful lips. I haven’t been able to stop picturing them wrapped around my cock since the first night I met you.”
 
Sweet mother of God.
 
Warmth spreads between my legs, and I shift to rub them together against the dull ache forming. “Well, now. Who is propositioning who?”