“And secondly, what are we—college undergrads?” She gave me a once-over, though she couldn’t completely hide her look of appreciation. “Well, maybe you are.”
I peered down my nose at her. “You know perfectly well that I’m not.”
She laughed to herself, taking another sip of her drink.
“And,” I added. “The fact that you’re snubbing Truth or Dare only tells me you’re scared to play with me.” I waggled my eyebrows.
“You’re just a walking, talking innuendo, huh? Doesn’t it get old?”
“Having sex all the time?” I shook my head. “No.”
Though, honestly, I hadn’t been with anyone in months. There’d been the bet with Preston and the incident with Sam. But since I’d met Lauren, she was the only woman I could think about. She was the only woman I wanted—and the one I couldn’t have.
She laughed, but it felt almost condescending in nature. “Oh, honey.” She patted my chest, her hand and eyes lingering there for a moment. “You have a lot to learn about women.”
She might act like she was immune to me, but I knew better. It was obvious from the way she continued to flirt, to the fact that she couldn’t stop touching me, even in the smallest of ways. This woman wanted me.
I lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
At least not about my performance in bed. Most women had nothing but glowing praise. It was my behavior outside the bedroom that left something to be desired—my inability to commit.
“But you know what?” I added. “Give me the chance to prove what I know. You can teach me what I don’t.” I winked. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”
She merely rolled her eyes, and I followed her gaze to the dance floor where the happy couple—our best friends—were currently swaying. Alexis rested her head on Preston’s shoulder, their hands clasped together. They looked so incredibly happy. Despite my own feelings on love and relationships, I was glad they’d found their happily ever after, cliché as it sounded.
I smiled. “I’m happy for them.”
She nodded. “Me too. They both deserve happiness.”
I turned my attention back to her. The way she’d said it—the look on her face—I got the impression she thought she wasn’t worthy of the same. And I understood—the idea of being undeserving somehow. Of sitting on the sidelines, knowing that certain things simply weren’t meant for you.
“And you don’t?” I asked.
“I do, but—”
I wondered what she was thinking. If she’d been burned in the past like I had. If she was as jaded and skeptical about relationships and love as I was.
“Nothing.” She stood. “I should go.”
I reached out to grab her wrist, not wanting her to leave. “You should stay.” Sparks danced up my arm from the contact, just like every time we touched. “Just to talk. I like hanging out with you.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You do?”
How had she not figured that out by now? My excuses for seeing her were often completely ridiculous.
I spun my hand around her wrist so that I was holding her hand in mine. It was surprisingly…nice.
“Yeah. You get me. You don’t judge me because you’re just like me. Well, a hot female version of me.”
“Um, thanks. I think.” Her brows furrowed.
“It was a compliment.” I tugged gently on her hand, pulling her back to the seat she’d vacated only moments ago. “Sit. Stay.”
She glared at me, letting me know I’d undone what little progress I’d made. “I’m not your dog or your sub.”
“Do you want to be?” I asked, loving the fact that she never shied away from throwing sexual slang into our conversations.
She moved to stand. “I’m going.”
