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“Because,” Jamie said, his eyes flashing as he looked me intensely, “you want more than him. You want someone who can make you feel more than this.”
He ran his hand up my leg and goosebumps erupted all over my body. I shivered.
“You want someone who can make you feel this.”
Jamie placed his hand over my heart and I felt my own pounding, erratic heart beat against his palm. Eyes locked together, I didn’t understand how my heart was still beating: it felt like I hadn’t breathed in hours, days.
“It’s for a sex study I’m going to do,” I breathed out like a confession. I didn’t even realize I was saying it until the words were out, in the hot, heavy air between us, unable to take back. I watched the surprise on Jamie’s face as he processed what I had just said through the fog of whiskey and beer.
“Well aren’t you just full of surprises,” he said, a naughty grin spreading over his face.
Wait, did I just tell my Neanderthal neighbor I was doing a sex study? Panic filled my chest and I fumbled for words to explain myself as Jamie watched me intently with a growing smile.
“I, I—”
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
“Wait! My date—”
“You’re gorgeous tonight, Tandy. You’re on a date, and you look amazing. You deserve to be kissed with passion. With lust. And that douchebag won’t have any idea how to kiss you and mean it. So unless you tell me no in five…four…three…”
He was right. There was no way Tom would kiss me with passion, much less with anything like lust. Jamie would, and then some. The kiss in the hallway had taken me by surprise, but oh god it had been the best kiss I’d ever had. My pussy clenched and tingles shot through my body as I remembered the way Jamie had pushed me up against the wall, the way he’d plunged his tongue into my mouth, the way he’d made me go hot and wet an—
I let him keep counting.
“…two…one. Time’s up.”
He again grabbed my face on either side and firmly pressed his lips against mine. I sank into his kiss, into his mouth, quivering at the taste of whiskey on his tongue, gasping when he surreptitiously slid a hand up to cover my breast, then pinched my hard nipple. God, this was good. Jamie was good. No—Jamie was the best kisser I’d ever had. And if he was this good at just kissing, he’d have to be amazing in bed. Memories of his overly large cock swirled into my mind and I went dizzy, wanting more, wanting—
Suddenly he pulled away, leaving me gasping for breath.
“That asswipe won’t kiss you like I can. He for sure won’t fuck you like I could. And Tabatha, you know you want to fuck me. You want it bad.”
And then he was gone, pushing his way through the crowd, headed back to the stage. “Shut up, you fuckers,” he shouted into the mic. “I’ve got a new song for you lot.”
Tom slipped between a group of girls who all whispered excitedly as he walked toward our table. “What happened to the chair?” he asked, setting our drinks down on the table and struggling to lift the chair back to his side. Clearly he hadn’t noticed the star attraction had just made out with his date.
“Um, you know, wild crowd,” I said, eyes on Jamie as I touched my fingers to my lips. I hated what he had said for one single reason and one single reason alone: it was true. His lips had been lightning against mine. I could still feel them buzzing with electricity. I didn’t want to want him. I really, truly did not want to want that loud, brash Irish jerk.
But I did.
The warmth between my legs left no doubt.
“You okay?” Tom asked as Jamie crashed his drum sticks together over his head like some ancient god-warrior. “You look a little flushed.”
This question caused me to blush even more, knowing that Jamie had walked over here and kissed me within sight of my date, knowing full well he was within sight of my date. My neighbor had Neanderthal manners.
And oddly, I was okay with that.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“Good,” Tom said. “Because I was thinking after this, we could go back to my place.”
His fingers rested on my arm, and I knew the girls standing just to the right of us thought I must somehow be the luckiest girl in the world. An average girl getting a chance with a certifiable ten out of ten. But for me, I felt nothing. On the Bachelorette, the girl gives out roses to the guys she is inviting to stay. Perhaps I could give out vibrators shaped like a rose or something. But one thing was certain: Tom would not be receiving one, rose-shaped vibrator or otherwise.
Because it was when I was looking at the red-haired bearded man on stage, not the beyond perfect male specimen next to me, that I felt something.
And then, of course, Jamie had to go and ruin it.
