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She joins the line and motions for me to stand next to her. Our hands are clasped together between us, and we’re holding our beers in the others. The live band announces a cover of Brooks and Dunn’s “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” and it appears we are all supposed to know the specific dance for this. Because everyone around us cheers and starts moving the second the song starts.
I’ve never even heard this song, let alone seen anyone dance to it. But Ivy seems to know exactly what she’s doing. She looks over at me and gives me a nudge to follow her lead. She’s in a fit of laughter while she watches me try to keep up. I’m stepping to the side, spinning and kicking, all while trying to fight the buzz from the moonshine and make sure I don’t spill my beer.
Each time we spin, I let go of her hand, and once we right ourselves, she’s right there, grabbing my hand again. Her head falls back in laughter over and over again, lighting up her gorgeous face. It’s infectious, and I can’t help but laugh at my stumbling feet as well. It’s fun as hell, but shit if I don’t suck at it.
“You’re not very good!” she shouts over the music.
“No shit!” I shout back, trying to keep up as we do another spin.
But this time, I won’t let her separate us. Instead, I give her a quick tug until she’s stumbling and falling into me. I sit my beer on a high top next to us and do the same to hers before throwing both of her arms around my shoulders. She smiles up at me and bites her lower lip.
“You’d look hot in a cowgirl hat,” I tell her, wagging my eyebrows as I tease her.
She just rolls her eyes and follows my lead as we do our best to stay out of everyone’s way. Finally, the song changes, and the tempo slows. I pull her closer until almost her entire body is flush with mine as we spin in slow circles.
I never said I was a good dancer, but I’ve been to a few dances in school. I know how to do the basics. And she doesn’t seem to be complaining. The neon lights shine on her silky black hair, and I can’t stop myself from running my hands through the ends that hang around her waist.
“You know,” she says, leaning closer so that I can hear her. “I think I’d like to seeyouin a cowboy hat. And maybe nothing else.”
I swear to Christ every ounce of blood in my body races to my cock. There are too many memories between us for her to say that kind of shit and get away with it. I let my hands skim down from her waist to settle on the firm curve of her ass. When I give her a quick smack, she rears back and gives me a look that promises I’m going to pay for that.
Andfuckif I don’t want to.
Before she can say anything, I give her a little shove out from my body and spin her around before tugging her back in. Her hair flies around in a circle, and by the time she gets back to me, her lips are curved back up in a smile.
“Want some more moonshine?”
“You trying to get me drunk, Gregory?”
“Hey, it’s your birthday,” I say with a shrug. “I think we should celebrate.”
She waits a beat and then nods, peeling away from me to sit at the high top where I left our beers. I lean over her and pick up the beers before going to the bar, and when I wink in her direction, her eyes are saying something that her mouth refuses to say out loud.
But I hear it loud and clear. We’re both tempted to pick up where we left off. Not only tempted, but we really, really want to. Before I turn away, her eyes graze over my body and stick on the bulge in my pants. Even in the dim light of the bar, I can see her pupils widen. And then her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip.
I’m not a cocky guy, but I love seeing the way she responds to me. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t boost my ego a little.
“Be right back, mistress.” My mouth is so close to her ear as I whisper they brush against the shell of it. Her entire body tenses and shivers. I haven’t used that name since we were last together, and I know what effect it has on her.
I’ve only ever used it with her, and only ever while I was submitting to her.
And then I turn away and push my way to the front of the bar. Trying to get the attention of a bartender without a gorgeous woman next to me is a little more difficult, but one of them finally makes their way down. After ordering some more shots of moonshine, I try to make it back to her at the table without spilling anything.
The only thing is, when I manage to get out of the bar crowd, I see someone flirting with her. He’s leaning over the table, getting up in her space while she smiles at him politely. Because of the music, he has to get close—too close—and I can feel my temper getting away from me.
My friends always give me shit for having the shortest temper of the bunch, but I can’t help it sometimes. If someone pushes me too far, my blood pressure skyrockets, and I can’t control myself. Especially when it involves this woman.
I’m frozen in place watching this interaction, trying to gauge her interest. I know that we aren’t together anymore, so I know it’s not my place to lose my ever-loving mind with jealousy. No matter how badly Iwantit to be my place.
Those pretty blue eyes slide from the man in front of her and find me staring at her like an idiot. And suddenly, I see the switch in her. She always has had a soft spot for my possessive nature. She loves teasing me, testing me. I suppose now is one of those times.
Because in a split second, she turns from just looking polite to looking like she wants this man to take her home and fuck her senseless. But that’s not happening.
It’ll be me that takes her home. It’ll be me that fucks some goddamn sense into her.
She glances over his shoulder at me and smiles when she sees me down a shot. My girl knows what’s about to happen, and she is fucking living for it.
My feet finally move from where they were rooted to the sticky floor, and I tap the guy on the back before handing her the shot I got for her. He leans away from her to look me over, and Ivy just downs the moonshine with a smile, anticipating my sudden mood change. Her legs cross, and I don’t miss the way her thighs flex and squeeze together.
