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She continues moving her sexy little body, and when I find her hip, I pull her chest against mine and bring my lips to her ear. “You like teasing me, Zoey?”
“Maybe.” She bites down on her bottom lip, then pulls it between her teeth. “Would you be interested if I was?”
A low growl escapes my throat. Is she fucking with me?
“Hell yes,” I answer, pulling her closer as our eyes remain locked. We continue dancing until we realize it’s been nearly ninety minutes since we arrived. I lost Diesel the second we walked in, but he’s more than capable of telling time on his own.
Hand in hand, I lead Zoey back to the bus, and when we step on, I see Diesel working the pole, giving the party a show.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, laughing and shaking my head at his poor attempt, knowing he loves the attention. “I think they saw enough last night.”
“After you dared me, asshole,” he spits, thrusting his junk toward Chelsea.
I sit, and Zoey snorts, taking a seat on my lap. “I’m picking the shots this time,” she declares once we start moving.
“Be my guest,” I tell her.
“Yeah, we’ll see if you can handle it.” She smiles as if she’s up to something.
Moments later, she returns with two glasses, wearing a shit-eating smirk. “Ready?”
I eye it cautiously, not recognizing the light amber liquid. “What is it?” I ask, taking it from her and smelling it.
“Guess,” Zoey says.
“It smells like you mixed a few liquors together, and you want me to puke my guts out later,” I respond, watching her expression.
She shrugs, not denying it. “If you don’t think you can handle it, then don’t drink it.”
Before I can respond, she shoots hers back, and after blinking a few times at what I imagine is a funky ass taste, she smiles. “Easy peasy.”
“Might put some hair on that chest,” Diesel goads.
“Shut the fuck up.” I laugh, brushing a hand over the facial hair on my chin as I stare at the shot. It’ll probably make me sick as hell, considering everything else I’ve drunk already, but I refuse to be a puss.
After counting to three, I sling it back. The burn has me wincing, and when I look at Zoey with wide eyes, I start coughing.
Zoey nearly dies of laughter and pats me on the back. “Wow, I thought you cowboy types would be able to take your whiskey, bourbon, tequila, vodka shot mixes without any issue.”
“That was fuckin’ disgusting.” I cough again, setting the shot glass down. “There’s no way you had the same thing.”
“You’re right.”
Immediately, I grab her waist and pull her down onto my lap, causing her to release a yelp. “I’m gonna make you pay for that,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. Her body shivers against me, and it’s all the confirmation I need to know she feels what I do. Even though we just met, an electric current undeniably soars between us. I refuse to let this night go to waste and want to take advantage of every second I get with her.
When we enter the second club, we continue to dance and drink. Eventually, she mentions needing to find a bathroom, but I don’t let her go alone.
“I’ll join you.”
Zoey gives me a weird look but doesn’t argue. I’m a damn gentleman, after all. I hold her drink and wait in the hallway. Once she’s done, I take her hand and lead her to the outside patio where we can sit for a minute.
“Is your sister gonna be upset that you’re spending your time with me instead of her?” Even though she sits so close that our knees touch, I want her even closer.
Zoey sips from her straw. “Highly doubtful. The other girls are giving her plenty of attention. Not to mention your friend.”
I smirk, knowing how much of an attention whore Diesel is. “Don’t worry, he’s actually harmless. He wouldn’t touch a soon-to-be married woman.”
“What about you? You have someone waiting for you at home?” she asks coyly, which causes me to grin.
“Nope. I work a lot on the ranch, and when I’m not, I’m helping at my family’s bar. When I first turned twenty-one, I’d go out often, but work and family come first,” I tell her honestly. I haven’t dated since high school, but I don’t mention that. I’ve had hookups, but it never turns into anything more.
“How old are you exactly?” she asks.
“I’ll be twenty-three in July. What about you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Ah, so you’re just a baby,” I tease.
Zoey snorts. “You’re less than two years older than me.”
“But with life experience, I’m much, much older.” I wink.
A Missy Elliot song starts playing, and everyone, including Zoey, loses their shit. “Oh my God, super old school! We gotta dance to this.” She sets down her now empty drink and pulls me inside before I can protest, not that I would’ve.
