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“You like this,” Coop says, surprised. I nod, bringing a smirk to his face. “God, me too. So little Bailey Ross likes to get her freak on in public. Who knew?”
My face is so hot, I must match the neon in the windows by now. It doesn’t deter Coop, though.
He twists to face me, holding my wrist to keep my hand where he wants it, stroking his fingers along the hem of my skirt with his other hand.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. His thumb traces back and forth, back and forth, over the fabric covering my legs. “Say it.”
“No.” It’s barely even a word, nothing but a puff of air I can’t even hear myself. Cooper hears it somehow, his nostrils flaring, eyes going dark.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” says Cooper. His thumb is burning a track across the top of my thigh. If he doesn’t touch me soon I’m going to scream, and not in a good way. “You’re going to pull your skirt up and spread those pretty legs for me. Then I’m going to make you come.”
“Here? Now?”
“Right here, right now,” says Cooper, raking his teeth over my earlobe. “What’s it going to be, Ross? You going to let me make you come right here, in front of all these people?”
I shudder hard, almost climaxing on the spot. Cooper raises his eyebrows.
“You really like that.” His grin turns wicked. “Looks like something else we have in common.” I can’t tell if he means the dirty talk or the fooling around in public, but it’s working for me all across the board.
Cooper dips his chin, indicating I should get on with it.
Backed into the corner of the booth like I am, it’d be almost impossible for anybody to see what we’re getting up to. That, plus Cooper’s broad shoulders blocking me from sight and the dimness of the bar… it buys a lot of leeway if somebody was inclined to be discreetly indiscreet.
I know I swore off men, but this doesn’t count. Technically. It’s Cooper.
I pull my hand from his lap and tug the fabric of my skirt up, shifting side to side to inch it up to the tops of my thighs. His breath against my cheek makes me shiver.
“Good girl,” he whispers. His thick palm covers my knee, pulling it toward his body. “Open up.”
I keep my hands fisted in my clothes to try to stop them shaking. I don’t dare look over his shoulder in case somebody is watching.
Which makes no sense. This whole damn situation is crazy to begin with. Sense stopped being a factor about the time I laid eyes on Cooper at the gala last week.
“Anybody ever watch you get off, Bailey?” Cooper asks, kissing my neck between his words. His hand begins a slow slide up between my legs and I stop breathing, anticipating his next move. It’s all I can do to shake my head in answer. I’m beyond words now, so aroused I might come just from hearing him speak to me like this.
“They’d kill to see you like this, everybody in this room,” he says, his fingers finally, finally grazing the seam of my thong. “Look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, baby. You’re burning me up.”
His fingertips are stroking softly, barely any pressure at all, but they’re exactly where I need them, making me desperate for more. Need coils tight in my belly, urging me to press into Cooper’s hand, to make him do what I want. But more than getting off I want him to be the one who makes it happen, to make me. So I wait.
“I’m dying,” I whisper. “Touch me, Cooper.”
With a growl, Cooper captures my mouth, silencing the cry that comes automatically as he slides his fingers against my clit, just so. The pressure is perfect, perfect, perfect, and a choking heartbeat later I’m coming before he ever touches my bare flesh.
“Yes,” he growls, holding me tight as I shiver and melt and die in the corner of the booth. “Jesus. Jesus Christ, Bailey.”
I know I’m dreaming, but it doesn’t stop the adrenaline rush. I’m standing in a parking lot watching Cooper and Drew play tug-of-war over something I can’t see. I know there’s somewhere else I need to be, but I’m riveted to the spot, unable to look away.
Coming awake with a panicked start, I bolt upright out of bed, sure I’ve overslept my alarm. The clock on my phone tells me I still have three minutes, though, and I collapse back on the bed with a groan.
Drew and Cooper playing tug-of-war while I watch. Really? I don’t usually buy into the whole dream analysis stuff, but as subconscious messages go, that one’s not subtle.
I pull the pillow over my head, groaning again. Leaving the bar yesterday was an exercise in awkwardness to say the least. By the time my brain stopped shaking from the orgasm he forced out of me, my body was ready to go. His place, my place—even the bar bathroom would’ve worked.
In the end, I went home alone. It’s not fair to Cooper, not when Drew’s face keeps coming to my mind. And I swore off men for a reason. New leaf, new Bailey—that’s me. I’m done being rejected, passed over, done being somebody’s last priority. Time to focus on me.
It’s that thought that gets me out of bed and into the shower. Today’s competition round is meant to be another surprise, though we’ve been told it’s not a surprise ingredient this time. I tap out a text to Evie as the water heats. By the time I’m clean, I’m resolved to avoid Cooper and Drew both.
A smaller crowd of contestants might make that goal a challenge, but they’ll both be working. Shouldn’t be that hard.
