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I can’t help but smirk.
“What?” It hits her. “Foam?”
I say yes with my eyebrows.
She makes no move to clear it off herself. “I thought we promised to help each other?”
It feels like a dare. Maybe if I hadn’t had those shots. Maybe if it didn’t feel so goddamn good to be around someone who likes me for me, maybe if she didn’t look so enticing with her leg hitched up and her thighs spread open and her tits stretching her polo to the limit… I might have done the right thing and found her a napkin. But instead, I wipe my thumb in slow motion over her lips, along the smooth wet surface, over her cupid’s bow and dip into the sensual corner of her mouth and peel away my foamy finger, dripping with bad intentions.
Hers.
And mine.
I lick my thumb, and her eyes blaze through me. I should be concerned by the pressure against my jean’s zipper. I should take my eyes off her glistening lip and back away to allow some cooler air to fan between us. But I don’t. Because together, those shots are two hundred and sixty proof of madness and sanity at the same time. Madness because this is my best friend’s little sister. And sanity because any lucid man would be doing just as I do.
Joey knows exactly what she’s doing, staring at me like a vixen through bedroom eyes. This isn’t the first time she’s flirted with me. But it’s the first time it feels as though I’m playing with fire.
I shift the conversation away from her lips and the way the foam tasted of beer and woman at the same time. “Seems like a lot has changed since we last saw each other.”
“And yet nothing at all.” The way she considers me is just how she did when we were kids but better. Because it’s now coming from a woman who seems to know more about me than me. Maybe she actually always did.
We gaze at each other, almost starstruck, and in any other world I might lean in, lace my fingers through the back of her hair, and sink my tongue inside her mouth. It’s the kind of moment that is so palatable I could slice through it.
I should go home, but I can’t make myself say it, because even though the tiny moral compass in my mind is pointingin the right direction, my dick is pointing the opposite way, and it paralyzes me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks as if she already knows the answer.
I hope she doesn’t. “Like what?”
“Like you regret not having sex with me when you had the chance.” It’s half a joke and half a question she really wants the answer to.
The bold statement both turns me on and flushes me with a smile. “I thought we were focusing on the present?”
She ignores what I just said, her voice full of a tipsy rasp. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep with me? The last time a man looked at me the way you are, they were trying to get in my pants.” Her teeth sink into her pouty bottom lip, her smile is cheeky.
“How about we don’t talk about other men around me?”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
She comes close again, or at least I think it’s her and not me.
“I don’t want to hear about your men. Logan wouldn’t either.”
“Oh… you’re pretending to be family again?” Her gaze drops to my crotch and slides back up my torso. “Whatever you say.”
I want to drop my gaze and see if my half-erection is showing in my pants. It’s pathetic I can’t control myself, but it’s been a while since I’ve been this turned on, this bourbon must be laced with something.
“Should we go home?” she asks. “All that’s left here for us is trouble.”
I don’t know what she means by that, but it’s probably true. “If that was enough of a break for you, I’ll get you home.”
“Doyouthink we should go?”
“If we don’t want two wicked hangovers tomorrow, yeah. But I’ll stay here all night if you want to.” I recall the whole reason I brought her out in the first place so I repeat my question. “Is that enough of a break for you?”
She slumps into the back of the booth, and for the first time in a while, there’s oxygen between us. Goddamn, it was getting hot.
“You okay?” I ask.
