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“Two lemon drop shots, please.”
The bartender nods and slides down the bar to start making the shots.
“So why did you come out tonight?” I ask.
“Honestly?” He bites his lip and looks away for a second. Jesus. Either I’ve never seen a man bite his lip before or I’m drunk and incredibly horny. Why is Griffin’s contemplative gaze making me want to jump him? I’m starved for attention, clearly.
I’m trying to think when was the last time I had sex? I’d had a few too many glasses of wine at one of Alec’s client dinners and then I’d attempted to seduce him with lingerie and a tipsy strip tease. I’d been wanting to spice things up and had been practicing some seductive lap dance moves I’d found online. I thought the alcohol would help, and in my mind, I felt like I was sexy until Alec burst out laughing.
“Em, what are you doing?” He had bit back another laugh. “This is awkward. I can’t take you seriously right now.”
After that I felt too self-conscious to make a move, and Alec seemed content to roll to his side of the bed each night. That was months before we broke up.
I’m still waiting for Griffin’s response when the bartender drops four shot glasses on the bar and starts pouring liquid from the shaker into them.
“How many did you order?” Griffin asks.
“I overmixed; extras are on me.” The bartender winks in my direction.
“You can’t take four shots,” Griffin protests.
“I wasn’t planning to.” I pass one to him.
“Emma.”My name on his lips is a playful scolding. It makes me want to do other naughty things to find out how he’d respond.
“Hmm?” I lift my brows innocently before clinking our shot glasses together and tossing the sweet, lemon-flavored liquid back.
Although the taste is nice, I can immediately feel the alcohol burn a path down my throat. The warming of my belly as it settles in my stomach soon follows.
I pick up the remaining two shots and as I rotate back toward Griffin, one of my spaghetti straps falls down my arm. Griffin’s eyes shift from mine to the newly exposed skin. It would be the perfect moment for him to slide his thumb along my bare shoulder, push the strap farther down and trail his lips against my exposed collar bone. My skin is calling out, practically begging to be touched. But he doesn’t do any of that. I have to settle for the light graze of his fingertips when he simply pinches the rogue strap between his fingers and guides it back to the top of my shoulder.
“I’m watching out for you tonight and you’re making that increasingly harder.”
I briefly drop my gaze below his waist.
“Is that so?” I’m surprised by my flirty response, but then again, it seems like I’m going to have to be the one to make this happen.
As the lemon drop shot settles into my blood stream, the realization that I can do whatever I want tonight makes me feel free. I don’t need to feel self-conscious with Griffin. He can see all my quirks and messiness and it doesn’t matter. We’re having fun tonight.
Again, I clink my shot glass with Griffin’s, but before I can down the second one, he whisks it out of my hand and throws it back.
“Hey,” I pout.
“You want to have fun tonight? It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
“Yeah, but if you saw my moves earlier, you’d know I’ll need at least three more of those to really find my groove.”
“You’re not a bad dancer.”
“No?” I laugh. “You’re a bad liar.”
“I saw you out there. You were having fun, that’s what matters.”
“You’re not like the other guys.” My eyes move to the table where the other revue dancers are drinking and laughing. Some are flirting with women, pouring on the charm. Griffin exudes the same confidence, but his is quiet, reserved. Nothing like the man that flirted and teased me onstage tonight.
“Is that a good thing?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod.
