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“Because no one has ever melted for me the way you did. If I took you home right now, I guarantee you’d let me spread those sexy little legs and feast on your pretty, pink—”
“What can I get you two?”
Ben doesn’t take his eyes off me as he answers. “Two vodka cranberries and that frou-frou bullshit in a can,” he orders, then turns back to me. “Where were we?”
“You were in the middle of boring me.”
His deep chuckle only makes the aching between my legs worse. “Right. Me boring you to death with the way I ran my tongue between your slick cunt. Feasting off the taste of you. Licking—”
“That’ll be seventeen even,” the bartender interrupts again. I don’t know whether I’m thankful or want to jump over the bar and slap the crap out of him.
“I got this one.” I stall, pull a twenty out of my back pocket, and hand it to him. “This sounds fun and all, but why don’t you spend your time flirting with someone who will reciprocate? My friend is into you.” I hate that I even offer it. But I’ll do anything to deflect from the mental image building in my head. Him. His mouth. The things he just confessed to doing.
“Too bad. I have no intention of flirting back. Why are you changing the topic?”
“Because I feel bad. You’re wasting all this time, and I’m not interested.”
Laughter falls off his tongue, and I hate myself when I bite my bottom lip. “What makes you think I am? Maybe I’m just saying all these things to mess with you. It was the whole reason I came with—oh, wait, did you think I was being serious?” He grabs his chest. “Oh, man. Really?”
I can’t tell if he’s messing with me. I stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s joking. He’s got to be joking.Shit. Is he not? I shake my head and grab my drink, taking a much-needed sip. “Either way, it works out for us both. I barely find you attractive. It’d be like sleeping with my brother.”Too far?Possibly.
“Well, for starters, we already slept together. I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, but if you want to fantasize that I’m your brother the next time we fuck, have at it.” He grabs his drink and starts to walk off.
I’m too busy pulling my jaw off the ground. “Hey, wait! I didn’t say that—that’s not what I meant. Get back here!” He doesn’t stop. And it’s too late to throw another jab. We’re in hearing range of the table.
“You took forever! Sit! Your team isn’t doing good.” I peek up at the screen. Already two outs and zero on base. Perfect. I take my seat, trying not to pay attention to the heavy flirting Jenny’s throwing down. The batter hits a home run, and I suck down my drink as she screams and wraps her arms around him.
For the next two innings, neither team gets a hit. The star player on my team is up, so I sit straighter, cheering him on. “Come on. Give us some runs,” I yell at the TV.
“I don’t remember you being so into baseball,” Levi mentions.
I twist my head in his direction. “I never used to be. But my—I was around people who watched it a ton and fell in love myself.”
Christopher was huge into baseball. He took me to every home game. We even flew to a few away ones when he wasn’t swamped with work. And then we stopped. I hate when memories of him resurface. The deceit. How foolish I was. My mood plummets, and I excuse myself. I rest against the bar, and a warm body crowds behind me.
“That wasn’t nice. We’re drinking buddies. Can’t get drinks without me. It’s rude.”
I close my eyes. The heat of his chest pressed against my back feels good. The warmth of his breath hitting my earlobe creates this need inside me—a need I can’t deny.
“You looked busy. Didn’t want to ruin your chances of getting some tonight.” That came out a little bitchy.
“She doesn’t seem like sisterly-love material. Since that’s what I’m into right now, I’m going to let her down gently.” He leans in, pressing me against the bar. “What’s one of the nasty things you want to do to me if you win?”
My eyes close again. I lick my lips, trying to force out the words. “Well. . . I’ve already cuffed you to a bed, so that’s out.”
A sexy melody of laughter sings from his lips, and goosebumps spread down my arms. “Want to know what I thought about when you didn’t come back?”
“Not really,” I croak.
“I thought about finding you. Teaching you a lesson. I imagined taking my palm to your sassy ass and spanking it until I left my print on you. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“It got me hard again, thinking about it. Picturing it. You, spread over my knee, ass on full display for me.” He grabs my right cheek and squeezes. I wish I had more self-control, but it’s lost on me. I lean back against him.
“Same round of drinks?” the bartender comes up and asks.
“Yes,” we reply in unison, mine coming out more breathlessly.
