She rolls her eyes before waving her hand to Slater. I shake my head, mortified. I amnotinterrupting him while he’s talking to a lady who looks like she belongs in the centerfold ofSports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Edition.
I silently beg Melanie from across the room. I drop my bottom lip before thinking of the saddest thing I can imagine to force tears into my eyes. She smirks before shaking her head, not buying the bullshit I’m selling. When I stomp my feet, doing my best impersonation of her famous tantrums, her smirk shifts to a grin, but she skips the headshake.
I must be getting through to her.
It’s time to bring out the big guns. I drop my bottom lip again, but this time, I recall how long it’s been since I’ve seen Misty. That brings more than a tear to my eye. It sends one rolling down my cheek. When Melanie spots my tear, her face constricts before she raises her manicured finger in the air, requesting a minute. I nod before doing a victory jig. Today is the first time I’ve won a standoff against her, and the feeling is euphoric.
“It was the stomping that won her over.”
My immature dance moves stop at the same time as my heart. Biting on my lip, I spin around. Slater grins before freeing my lip from my menacing teeth. As he scrubs his thumb over the grooves my teeth made, my eyes rocket to the bar. His brunette friend is seated there, watching us with amusement slashed across her features. When she notices my gawk, she waves and smiles. I can’t help but groan. No one should be that beautiful.
Slater chuckles, making me realize I groaned loud enough for him to hear. My unusual boldness probably has something to do with the shots Melanie handed me left, right and center earlier tonight. I was nervous, so I was hopeful a little buzz would settle the butterflies in my stomach. It was great at the start, but now that it’s fading, my confidence is draining right along with it.
I’m hit with an entirely different set of nerves when Slater curls his hand around mine. His touch is warm and comforting, but it makes me as giddy as hell. I only stumble slightly when he walks us toward the beautiful brunette. Once we get close enough I don’t have to squint, I realize I’ve seen her before. She’s the bassist of Big Halo, but her name has slipped my mind.
Her eyes roam over my face before wandering down my body. My steps falter when they return to mine and I see the undeniable spark of lust brightening in them.Huh?
“Miranda, this is Kylie. Kylie, this is Miranda.” Slater’s brow cocks when he notices the expression on Miranda’s face. “This one is off limits.”
Miranda’s brow shoots up high when Slater nudges his head to me during his last sentence. I’m just as shocked as her. “No dibs, Slater. You know the rules.” Miranda’s voice is as seductive as she looks, but it has no callousness behind it.
“Fuck the rules.” When Slater tugs me into his side, Miranda smiles. Mercifully, I’m in too much of a lust haze from the possessiveness in Slater’s tone to care that her smile doubles her attractiveness.
“Then we better celebrate while we can.” When Miranda rings a gold bell on the side of the bar, three bar staff cover the wooden bar with a line of shot glasses. In sync, they lift crystal bottles high into the air to fill the glasses with clear, aroma-free liquid.
After gathering two of the sticky shot glasses, Miranda hands one each to Slater and me. I watch her in confusion when she raises my free hand to her mouth. When her tongue licks the skin between my thumb and index finger, my eyes bulge before flicking to Slater. His expression is unreadable, but he’s watching Miranda with as much interest as me. When she shakes a chunk of salt onto my hand, the worried groove between his brows smooths.
“To the girls worth breaking the rules for.” After clinking her shot glass against Slater’s, Miranda’s tongue laps up the salt from my hand before she downs her shot of tequila in one swift hit. As her tongue wiggles around the glass to make sure she gets every drop, she winks at Slater. “Your turn.”
As she sucks on a slice of lemon, Slater’s tongue laps up the salt Miranda missed from my hand before throwing back his serving of tequila. My pussy tingles as much as his mouth probably is when he chews on a large wedge of lemon.
After returning Miranda’s cheeky wink, he shifts on his feet to face me. “Your turn.” His voice is thick and rugged, making my knees join. I swallow the lump his intense gaze lodged in my throat before replacing the salt they licked off. Then, in one quick motion, I lick and sip. My face scrunches up when the disgusting liquid slides down my throat. I’ve always hated the taste of tequila.
When I grab for a chunk of lemon, praying it will soothe the ghastly taste, the bowl is yanked out of my reach, and I’m bombarded by a pair of warm lips. Their skillful tongue, laced with lemon, soothes the tequila burn. I’m also reasonably sure it’s the cause of the buzzing sensation dancing through my body. When my hair is fisted, allowing my kisser to deepen our kiss, a moan rolls up my throat. This man knows how to kiss, and yes, I’m one hundred percent confident the person kissing me is a man, because I’d never forget the taste of his lips.
“All right, all right, you win.” Miranda’s yank on my shoulders pulls me away from Slater’s deliciously fruity mouth. “But you cheated.” She pokes her nail into Slater’s chest as her brow arches. “She’s supposed to pick her savior, not you choose for her.”
Slater licks his lips as his grin ramps up. “Your chances of kissing her arealmostas good as Sonny’s. Neither of you have a fucking chance.”
Miranda’s laugh gains her the attention of several men in the room. “One night with me will be all she needs to jump that fence.”
My eyes snap to hers. When she winks, the penny finally drops.She likes girls.
Slater’s brisk shake of his head draws my focus back to him. “No fucking chance. It’ll never happen—”
“We could share.” Miranda shrugs like sharing is something they often do.
“No. Fucking. Chance.”
Slater sucks in big, heaving breaths between each word, but it has nothing on the workload of my lungs when he sits on the barstool then tugs me until I’m sitting half on his lap and half-standing. Once he has me where he wants me, he spreads an open hand possessively on my right hip, splaying his fingers just above the area where his name is inked on my skin.
Miranda’s big lips drop into a pout. “I’m going to miss my wingman.”
When Slater chuckles, she gives me one last wink before joining a group of guys and girls at the other end of the bar. I spin around to face Slater so I can absorb his knee-weakening face. His eyes are beaming with lust, but they’re also glossed over. “Are you drunk?”
He smiles so wide, the corners of his eyes get a small gathering of lines. “I’m just a little bit tipsy.”
I slap his chest, pretending to hate the mirth in his tone. In reality, I love it. “Slater tipsy or Kylie tipsy?”
