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Everleigh looks at the whipped cream on my shot. “I kinda want a blow job now too. That looks good.”
“It’s all yours,” I offer, sliding it over. I only ordered it to make a fucking point. If she’s off-limits to me, she’s off-limits toeveryonein here. Next, I order a whiskey straight-up from the other bartender.
“Let’s make a toast,” Everleigh insists, holding both of her shots up, and I lift mine. “To friends. To love. To screamin’ orgasms and blow jobs.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” We click our glasses together and suck them down. Then she shoots down the other.
“Want another?” I ask.
“Nah, I want to dance.”
I shake my head. “Uh, I don’t dance.”
“You do when you’re with me.” Everleigh grabs my hand and forces me to the center of the room, where the lights are lowered. She places it on her waist, then interlocks her fingers with my other hand. “Follow my lead.”
I can’t help but smile as we make our way around the room in flow with all the other couples.
“You lied! You can two-step just fine.”
“I have a good teacher,” I taunt.
“Yeah, right.”
I take her hand, twirl her around, and watch her face light up.
“You’re basically a pro!” she squeals.
Everleigh comes back and wraps her arms around my neck.
“My sister loved to dance,” I finally admit. “And she forced me to practice with her.”
“I knew it. Most guys who really can’t end up crushing my feet and looking like a tumbling mess.”
The song ends, and the next is a slow one. I pull Everleigh to my chest, and she looks up at me with fire in her eyes. We sway to the music without saying a word, and it’s nice. My mind wanders, and I wonder if we could make a relationship work. Between the reasons it can’t, I like to think there’s at least one why it could. The mood turns somber and serious, and I suggest we play pool when another slow one starts.
“Yeah,” she says, stopping the waitress on the way to order a double shot of tequila.
We head into the game room area and wait for a table. Somehow, Everleigh sweet-talks some guys into letting us play after their round is over. I’m not the only one under her magical spell tonight because she’s the center of attention.
“Have you played a lot?” She grabs a cue stick and rubs chalk over the tip.
I shrug. “I’ve won a few games or so.”
She tilts a brow at me. “Are you a pool shark or something?”
I laugh. “No. Are you?”
“We’ll see.” She waggles her brows. “You wanna break the balls?”
“Go ahead,” I tell her, knowing she’s been breaking mine all night long. Rather, forweeks.
“Fatal mistake.” She leans over, giving me the perfect view down her shirt. I move behind her so the temptation is gone, but that’s when she bends over and pushes her ass in the air. The top of her red lace thong has me adjusting my dick. Maybe playing pool was a bad idea. Next time, we’re playing Chutes and Ladders at home fully clothed. Turtlenecks for everyone.
“I’m solids,” she announces, walking around the table like she owns it while I chalk my cue. “We calling pockets or no?”
“Nah.” I shrug.
“Mistake number two,” she says, sinking four of her balls in the pocket.
