He winks at me.

My head turns to see Murph basically seething.

“Jealous?” I tease him.

He snaps, his eyes wide and aimed directly at me. Then, I lean in, pressing my lips to his, giving the guy—and everyone else on the first floor—a good show to watch.

Murph moves from shocked to ravenous in a heartbeat. His hands clutch my hips, digging the sequins into my flesh.

“Let’s go,” he growls as he turns and tries to head down the stairs.

“I’m not ready to go.”

Murph stops in his tracks at the top step. He turns and stalks toward me. “I’ll carry you out of here on my shoulders if I have to.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I answer. Then, he moves toward me, his arm reaching for my hips. “Okay! Okay!” I call before he can actually get me off the ground.

His eyes glance toward the right, where a door opens leading to a hallway of some sort. Murph’s eyes move back to my face, and it’s like I read his mind because I know exactly what he’s about to do next. He grabs my hand and leads me gently toward the door.

Tearing it open impatiently, we find a quiet hallway that leads to a set of bathrooms and the coat closet. I kissed him so his little rival could see, but no one can see us here.

Before I can say anything or ask any questions, Murph pushes me against the wall. His mouth is on mine, and I gasp into the kiss, desperately stealing his kisses in return.

His hips press me against the wall so firmly that I let out a yelp. The taste of his kiss takes me back to the tattoo shop, the start of something we didn’t finish. I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him closer. I can’t get him close enough or squeeze him tight enough. It’s like I want to absorb him.

“You’re driving me crazy in that dress,” he growls against my neck. His mouth moves down my chest, kissing along my neckline, his thick beard sending chills through my body.

If he lifted my dress, I’d give myself to him right now. I’m that far gone for him. I’d let him fuck me against the wall of this hallway, and I wouldn’t care if anyone walked in or watched us. And I honestly think if I didn’t stop it, we would.

“Let’s get out of here,” I pant, digging my fingers into his thick hair, messing up the perfect curl he had when we walked in the door.

Just as I say it, the door opens and a waitress pops in, stopping when she sees us. She’s hovering in the doorway in shock.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says in a deep, gravel-like bark.

I can’t help but laugh into his neck when the woman, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, turns and scurries out. As soon as we’re alone, his lips return to my mouth. He pulls up my dress in a rush, and I feel the cool air on my exposed backside. His fingers dig into the flesh as he lifts me off my feet.