Lips Locked and Loaded

The dive bar on the edge of town was a grimy little hole called The Rusty Anchor, where the air was thick with the scent of stale beer, cheap whiskey, and desperation. Dim lights flickered over scarred wooden tables, casting long shadows across the sticky floor. The jukebox in the corner blared a gritty classic rock anthem, the kind of song that made you want to either fight or fuck, depending on your mood. Behind the bar, Riley ruled her domain with an iron fist and a tongue sharp enough to cut glass. She was a force of nature—tall, with ink snaking up her toned arms, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, and eyes that could pin a man to the wall without ever lifting a finger. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and the regulars knew it. Most of them, anyway.

Jace, though, was a different breed of trouble. He’d been haunting her bar for weeks, always sliding in just before the late-night rush with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. He was all sharp jawline and devil-may-care attitude, the kind of guy who knew he was hot and wielded it like a weapon. Tonight, he was perched on his usual stool at the far end of the bar, nursing a beer and watching her every move like a predator biding his time. His leather jacket was slung over the back of the stool, his white tee clinging to his chest just enough to be distracting. Riley hated how much she noticed.

“Another round, sweetheart?” Jace called out, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he dangled his empty bottle between two fingers. “Or are you gonna keep ignoring me all night?”

Riley didn’t even look up from wiping down the bar. “Call me sweetheart one more time, Jace, and I’ll shove that bottle so far up your ass you’ll be tasting glass for a week.”

He laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “Damn, Riley. You’ve got a mouth on you. Bet it’s good for more than just threats.”

She finally met his gaze, her hazel eyes narrowing into a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy. I don’t play with boys who can’t tip for shit.”

Jace leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’ve got plenty to give, darlin’. Just say the word, and I’ll show you a real good time. No tip required.”

Riley snorted, slamming a fresh beer down in front of him hard enough to make the foam spill over. “You couldn’t handle me on your best day, Jace. Stick to flirting with the easy marks. I’m not one of ‘em.”

He caught her wrist before she could pull away, his grip firm but not rough, his thumb brushing against the inside of her pulse point. “I don’t want easy, Riley. I want a challenge. And you? You’re the best damn challenge I’ve seen in a long time.”

Her breath hitched for half a second before she yanked her hand back, her glare intensifying. “Touch me again without permission, and I’ll break every finger on that hand. Got it?”

Jace held up both hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his dark eyes told her he wasn’t backing down. “Loud and clear, boss. But you can’t deny there’s somethin’ here. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not payin’ attention.”

Riley rolled her eyes, turning to serve another customer, but his words lingered like smoke in the air. The bar was slow tonight, just a handful of regulars nursing their drinks and drowning their sorrows. She could feel Jace’s stare burning into her back as she worked, and it pissed her off how much it got under her skin. He’d been playing this game for weeks—pushing her buttons, testing her limits, and damn if she wasn’t starting to enjoy the fight.

An hour later, after a particularly sloppy drunk spilled half a pitcher of beer across the bar, Riley’s patience was razor-thin. Jace, of course, had to open his mouth as she mopped up the mess.

“Rough night, huh? Bet I could make it better,” he teased, leaning over to watch her work. “Just one little smile from you, and I’d be a happy man.”

She straightened up, tossing the rag aside with a huff. “You’re a pain in my ass, Jace. You know that?”

“Only ‘cause you won’t let me be a pain somewhere else,” he shot back, winking.

That was it. Riley had had enough. She rounded the bar in three long strides, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him off the stool. “Alright, smartass. We’re settling this. Now.”

Jace didn’t resist as she dragged him toward the back storage room, his grin only growing wider. “Hell yeah, let’s settle it. I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

She shoved open the door, pushed him inside, and slammed it shut behind them. The small room was cramped, stacked with beer crates and shelves of liquor, the air heavy with the scent of hops and dust. Riley turned on him, crossing her arms over her chest, her stance pure dominance. “You’ve got a real problem with knowing when to shut up, don’t you? And don’t even get me started on your shitty tips. I’ve seen better from broke college kids.”

Jace leaned back against a stack of crates, crossing his own arms to mirror her, utterly unperturbed. “Maybe I’m savin’ all my cash for a private show. Ever think of that?”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “You think you’re cute, don’t you? Think you can just waltz in here, run your mouth, and I’ll fall all over myself for you?”

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “I don’t think, Riley. I know. You’ve been eye-fuckin’ me for weeks. Why don’t you just admit it?”

Her jaw clenched, but before she could snap back, something snapped inside her instead. She lunged forward, grabbing his shirt again and shoving him hard against the wall of crates. Their mouths crashed together in a bruising, messy kiss, all teeth and heat and barely contained frustration. Jace groaned into it, his hands immediately finding her hips, pulling her closer as she pinned him in place with her body.

“Still think you’re in charge, huh?” she growled against his lips, nipping at his bottom one hard enough to make him hiss.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, babe,” he rasped, his fingers digging into her waist as he kissed her back just as fiercely. “You’re the one who dragged me in here. Couldn’t resist me, could ya?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, her hand sliding up to grip the back of his neck, holding him exactly where she wanted him. Her other hand roamed down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt, and she hated how much she liked it. Their kisses were a battlefield—rough, desperate, a clash of wills as much as bodies. His taunts only fueled her, every word a spark to the fire already raging between them.

“You kiss like you fight, Riley. All fire and no mercy,” he panted between gasps, his hands sliding lower to grip her ass, pulling her flush against him. “I fuckin’ love it.”

“You talk too much,” she shot back, shoving him harder against the crates, one thigh pressing between his legs just to watch him squirm. “Keep it up, and I’ll gag you with a bar rag.”

“Promises, promises,” he teased, but his voice was rough now, strained with want as she took control, her lips trailing down to bite at the pulse point on his neck.

They were a tangle of heat and sharp edges, hands roaming, breaths ragged, insults flying even as they devoured each other. Riley relished the power, the way she could make him groan with a single move, but Jace wasn’t one to just take it—he pushed back, matching her intensity, challenging her at every turn.

They might’ve kept going, lost in the storm of it all, if not for the sudden, insistent banging on the door. “Riley! You in there? We’ve got a fight breakin’ out up front!” It was Tara, her coworker, sounding frantic.

Riley pulled back, chest heaving, her lips swollen and her eyes blazing as she glared at Jace. He looked just as wrecked—hair mussed, shirt askew, a faint red mark already blooming on his neck where she’d bitten him. He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Saved by the bell, huh? Or are you gonna finish what you started?”

She stepped back, smoothing her hair with a shaky hand, her voice low and deadly. “This ain’t over, Jace. Not by a long shot.”

His grin was pure sin. “Good. I’m countin’ on it.”

She turned on her heel, yanking the door open and storming out, leaving him leaning against the crates, still catching his breath. The tension between them wasn’t just unfinished—it was a live wire, sparking and dangerous, waiting for the next chance to ignite.