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Every single part of me takes notice.
I didn’t come to the bar tonight looking for a hookup, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to take her home with me.
“I hope you’re enjoying it, at least,” I say, gesturing toward the drink.
“It’s delicious,” she says, lifting the glass to her lips.
Yes, you are.
My eyes are drawn to her mouth, enraptured by the press of her lips against the glass and the way her tongue darts out after she swallows, catching a stray drop on her bottom lip.
“Sweet?” I ask, wishing I could press my lips to hers to taste it for myself.
“And tart,” she says. “It’s tequila and pineapple juice.”
“You know what they say about eating pineapple, right?”
The corners of her lips turn up and she arches a brow like she knows exactly where I’m going with this, but I might surprise her. “No,” she replies with a teasing lilt. “What do they say about eating pineapple?”
“It helps boost your immune system,” I joke.
It’s lame, I know.
But sometimes the best things are the unexpected.
“Oh,” she says, leaning in like she’s got a secret. Her next words come out in a sultry whisper. “And here I thought it makes everything taste sweeter.”
Fuck. Me.
Looks like I’m the one surprised.
“You might be right,” I agree. “Only one way to find out for sure.”
She tips her head back and laughs, and I find myself smiling.
When she looks at me again, her entire face is lit up with a bright smile and the shadows are gone from her eyes. Seeing that… it’s everything. Even if I go home alone tonight, I’ll leave happy, knowing I was able to chase away her demons, if only for a little while.
And even though I know I shouldn’t.
That doesn’t mean I’m not still gonna try.
I open my mouth and close it because she’s thrown me completely off my game. I suddenly can’t think of a single thing to say. This girl has me rattled, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
“Fucked you up, didn’t I?” she teases.
“Hell yeah, you did,” I admit, laughing at myself.
“Good. I’d hate to be predictable.”
Before I can reply, Zane interrupts from the other side of the bar. “Another round?”
“Not for me,” Leila says. “Can I get a water, though?”
“Sure,” he says, turning his attention to me.
“Same,” I tell him.
I don’t need any more alcohol. Leila is more intoxicating than anything they’ve got behind the bar. I’ve been sitting next to her for less than ten minutes and I swear I’m already drunk on her.
