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Brent’s arm goes around my shoulders as he leans over me at the bar to order another drink. I shiver at his unexpected touch even though it shouldn’t have been unexpected. He’s into me, or he wouldn’t have offered to buy me a drink. I just don’t know how to do this flirting thing.
He places another drink in front of me, and I immediately begin drinking it.
“What modeling jobs have you done?”
His eyebrows rise before his lips form into a grin. “How did you know I was a model?”
“Just a guess. If not, you should be. You have the look.”
His smile gets brighter. “I’ve done some work for Calvin Klein mostly.”
I nod. I can see that. I’ll have to look up his ads later. It means I was right about the tight abs below his shirt. I glance down lower to see a bulge pressing against his jeans. I gulp. Yep, he probably makes an excellent Calvin Klein underwear model.
I look back up to his eyes that are looking at my boobs with lust. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear, bringing his eyes back up to my face.
“What about you? You’re a model, too, right?”
I smile politely and nod. “Mostly, I’ve done work for Seventeen magazine.”
His eyes travel over my body, landing on my smooth stomach showing beneath my crop top. My stomach is smooth purely from good genetics. I don’t eat healthy enough or work out enough to get it any other way.
“Come on, we’re dancing,” Scarlett says.
She grabs my hand to pull me with her and Adam. I don’t ask Brent to follow, but he does, like it is a given that he’ll be the one dancing with me. I stumble once, but Scarlett’s hand keeps me on my feet.
“You okay?” she asks with a knowing look.
“Yes,” I say.
The alcohol must be affecting me quicker than I thought it would. It’s not like me to trip.
When we first get to the crowded dance floor, Scarlett dances with me for all of five seconds before pushing me into Brent as she turns to Adam.
“Have fun!” she shouts.
I turn to Brent and easily dance with him to the music, although our moves are tame compared with Scarlett and Adam next to us.
The next song plays, and Brent moves closer to me. His hands find my hips and then quickly move to my ass. I awkwardly smile up at him. I’m not used to having a strange man’s hands all over me—not unless it’s for a modeling job, and even then, the shoots I have done with male models have been tame.
“You’re a good dancer,” Brent whispers into my ear when the song stops.
“Thanks,” I say. I cringe. I’m real original. Why can’t I come up with something to say to this man?
“Shots?” a waitress says, bringing around a tray of test tubes filled with some sort of blue liquid.
Brent hands her some money and pulls two off before handing one to me.
“To tonight,” he says.
He clinks his test tube with mine before downing it. I do the same, not wanting to be rude. The liquid burns as it slinks down my throat.
What the hell was that?
Brent takes my empty glass and hands it to the waitress. “Two more.”
My eyes grow wide, and I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do another.”
“Ah, come on, Kinsley. It’s fun.”
