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“House meeting.” Jack gives Sam a shove, and although Sam raises a curious eyebrow, he backs off.
“Thanks for the bottle opener,” he tells me. With a wink, he retreats.
Jack takes his place, but with quite a bit more distance between us. That doesn’t stop his addictive scent from gripping my senses. He always smells so fucking good, like soap and sandalwood with a hint of spice. He’s wearing a soft gray sweater and black trousers that make his ass look delicious. (I know this because I confirmed it with my eyes. Multiple times.)
Propelled by the music, I continue to dance, defiant. After a beat, Jack begins to move too, probably because he feels awkward standing still.
“That was cute,” I tell him. “Petty but cute.”
“Go on,” he says, sporting a scowl that’s more endearing than threatening.
“No, it’s cool. I get it. Don’t want other kids playing with your toys. I’m sort of flattered.”
He lifts a brow. “You think I’m jealous?”
“Sam already gave you up. He told me all about how you can’t stop talking about me to the team. Like you’re basically obsessed with me.”
It’s the wine talking. A lot of it. More than I realized until I remember I had a glass while we were cleaning up for the party. Then a glass while I was getting dressed. A glass for every time I resisted the urge to ask Celeste if Nate and Yvonne were coming.
And, well, they’ve kind of added up.
Jack grins at me. “I’ve never mentioned you once. Someone asked me earlier if you were a lost neighborhood child. I said no, that’s the mouthy American who doesn’t know how to put her dishes away.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you practically threatened to fight your friend so you could cut in, right?”
“I was protecting him. He’s very dumb and unsuspecting.”
“Protecting him from what? I mean, worst I’ll do is take him upstairs and fuck him. Seems like a sweet deal for Sam.”
Oh my God.
I can’t believe I just said that. And it isn’t even true! I’m not the bring-a-total-stranger-upstairs-and-fuck-him kind of girl. Yet for some reason, wine always emboldens me when it comes to Jack.
I glimpse a spark of heat in his eyes before his features strain. “Don’t think I’ve heard you say that before.”
“Say what?”
“Fuck.”
My forehead wrinkles. “I say the wordfuckall the time.”
“Not in that context.” He licks his lips. “So. Is that it? You want to fuck my mate, do you?”
“No,” I stammer. “It was just a joke.”
My heart’s suddenly pounding louder than the bass line of the song, beating even faster when I realize we’ve managed to work ourselves closer together. His hands on my hips. Mine resting on his chest. A rapid rush of excited nervousness charges across every inch of my skin. I tip my head up at him to see his expression is slightly hazy. Eyelids heavy. I wonder if he feels it too or if it’s just the alcohol crossing our wires.
It’s the same exhilaration I felt the first time I saw Nate. Which is even more confusing, because the two of them are so diametrically different. Jack’s easygoing. Quick with a laugh. Nate’s more complicated. Intense and guarded.
I’m attracted to both of them.
And they’re both equally out of reach.
“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Jack peers down at me, searching my face.
“I don’t know. You’re just…you’re impossible to read,” I admit.
Just like that, his crystal blue eyes become shuttered. Proving my point.
