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“No, she doesn’t.”
I breathe a sigh of relief at Nicolo’s voice above me. He wraps a hand around my middle, a big hand splayed on my stomach, and from the way blondie snatches back his hand and shrinks back, I’m betting Nicolo has pinned him with a look.
“We’re just having fun, man,” the kid says.
“Do it on someone else’s watch. I’m not the kind of man who shares.” And without waiting, Nicolo sweeps up our beers and heads back to the table, hand sliding to the side of my waist and making sure I’m pressed against him as we go.
He looks at me and hands me my beer, smoothing the hair from my face as we come to a stop, standing close.
“If you say you could have handled it,” he says, “I know you could have, but I’m still the type who’s gonna step the fuck in.”
“Thanks.” I take a sip of my drink, and he has a swallow of his, and he’s about to say something, maybe lead me on to the table when everything gets brighter, better, like a burst of lights in me, and I down my beer as much as I can and lurch into him, the world fraying a little at the edges. “Dance!”
He laughs but doesn’t move. His hand coming up to cup my chin. “Again?”
“Mm, yes. I like the feel of your arms.”
“Whatever the lady wants.” He takes another swallow and puts our bottles down, and I wind around him, the urge to have him suddenly all there is inside me.
Something’s a little off, but I’m also not a huge drinker, so maybe it’s the shot that’s fizzing in me.
It’s definitely the shot.
I grind against him, hot everywhere as the world spins and slips, and I’m nothing but safe in his arms.
“Hey now.”
I breathe into his shirt as I lift my head and squint up. “I’m hot.”
“Well, there’s fucking that, all right.” There’s a smile on his mouth, but he’s also wearing a frown.
I reach up to smooth it away, and he moves me with him, taking my hand as a coolish breeze winds around me. He kisses my fingers.
“Let’s get some air, Avah.”
“Anywhere with you.” My voice comes out thick and from a room away. And all I can feel is the delicious bite of his hand around mine as he takes me outside.
It’s cooler here in the narrow section of the side of the bar, noise spills out, and there are tables here, couples and groups dotted about, but I press against the wall, the rough brick at my back. And though the breeze licks against me, it’s not enough to cool the fever or bring down the spin.
“That shot,” I say. “I’m not a drinker.”
“No?” He comes up against me, and I pull him in so he’s flush, so I’m trapping myself between him and the wall, and it’s the only place I want to be.
Unless it’s naked and under him.
I want to have sex.
I want to do it with him. Have my first man, go all the way. I don’t want to fumble or touch or tease. I want it all.
“Nicolo . . .”
He lifts my chin as I slide my hands about his narrow waist, over his tight ass, and try to press him into me.
“Your eyes are beautiful, Avah.”
“I want you.” I blurt and lift one hand to curl at his neck to tug his mouth to mine.
Our lips touch, and there’s an explosion of heat and flame inside me.
