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Squaring her shoulders—as if that’ll make her tiny frame more intimidating—she smiles again but it’s different. Too wide and bright and placating. Like how one might smile at a knife-wielding psychopath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says slowly, “but can you get up? You’re sitting on my jacket.”
“What?”
“My jacket.” She points to the sheath of leather I didn’t realize was trapped beneath me until now. “You sat on it when you stole my seat and I kinda need it.”
Oh.
Well, fuck.
That’s embarrassing.
And… nice. Kinda fucking nice.
There’s an odd equanimity that comes with anonymity. A certain ease that loosens muscles that’ve been tense for weeks. It’s a relief as much as it is an annoyance when I find myself slipping into my default setting, cocking my head as a slow smirk curls my lips, because that setting?Flirt. “I stole your seat?”
Dainty shoulders shrug, doing nothing but drawing my attention to the barely-there straps gracing them. One slips down slightly with the movement, so ludicrously distracting, I almost don’t hear her say, “Well, I was sitting here first.”
“Really?” Oh, I hate myself, but I do it again. Another glance down the length of her, a lacy hem skimming high on full thighs and that fucking wayward strap catching my attention before smokey eyes steal it again. “And how’d I miss that?”
The tilt of her head mimics mine. “Beats me.”
Cruel.
This girl is a cruel temptation and God, am I succumbing to her.
“My bad.” Hands raised in defeat, I stand, a sick satisfaction slicking through me as I tower over her. “By all means, take it back.”
“Nice gesture.” Her shoulder brushes my chest as she reaches around me to snatch up her jacket. “But I’m leaving.”
Before I even register what I’m doing, my fingers graze her elbow, gently foiling her attempt to leave. “Can’t stay for a drink?”
A breathy laugh leaves glossy lips. “I’ve already had a drink.”
“Not with me.”
Another laugh, louder this time, accompanied by a toss of thick hair and a cocked head. Eyes lock with mine challengingly. “Thought you weren’t in the mood.”
I wasn’t. I really, really wasn’t. But alas, I am a weak man. “Looks like I’ve had a change of heart.”
It should be a red flag, how quickly her mind changes. How she changes from entertained by my advances but still poised to flee to oh-so-agreeable in the blink of an eye. But when she laughs a third time, batting those long lashes at me, I can’t focus on anything but her.
“Fine.” Slinging her jacket over the back of the stool again, she plops onto my,her, seat, one deceptively long leg crossing over the other. “One drink.”
1
SUNDAY
Enormous hands bracket my hips.
They alternate between tight squeezes and rough caresses, guiding me as I grind on the lap beneath mine. Earlier tonight, when she’d first laid eyes on the guy currently lavishing my tits with so much mind-muddling attention, my sister had whistled and commented, “That is a man with a big dick.” All in his aura, she’d said.
Now, with the physical evidence trapped between my body and his, I have to give it to Willow; she was right. It might be dark as hell in this car but I don’t need to see to know my unexpected entertainment for the night is fucking huge.
God, I don’t know how I ended up here. Well, I do. I could actually probably pinpoint the exact moment I decided this guy was going to be the guy to break a very, very long dry spell; somewhere between him ordering me a burger and fries when he caught me ogling someone else’s, and when, despite the onslaught of women coming onto this guy, he looked at me and listened to me like I was the only other person in the bar.
I have low standards. Sue me.
Well, I have no standards. Nothing to standardize. Hence why this is so completely unlike me.
