“Thank you. I tried to get away, and he thought I was grinding against him. It was so gross.”
“You said you wanted to make friends,” I tease.
“Who wants to make friends?” I’d know that voice anywhere. Deep and sexy. My mind shifts to all the seductive words that have slipped from those lips over the last couple weeks. I never imagined that thoughts of the past would leave my panties wet.
“And what are you doing here?” Dana asks, coming up behind Blake. She slides in next to Reece, glaring up at him along the way. For her part, Reece can only stare, smitten with the stereotypical bad boy—ripped faded blue jeans, fitted navy henley, hair tousled in the most perfect way possible. His parents should have just named him The Panty Dampener.
He grins, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the dancing, or the memory of how his hands feel on me, but I’m finding it hard to catch my breath. “My plans for tonight got canceled.”
“Oh, shucks,” Dana chides, “Guess you’ll have to find something else to do.”
“I already have,” he responds, sliding in next to me. His arm brushes against mine. Sparks fly too easily. I should move away from him, to extinguish them, but I don’t. It’s been a long time—maybe even never—since I was turned on by the mere presence of a man.
He runs his finger over my blushed cheeks and damp hair. “You look so damn sexy right now,” he says as he leans in close. “But I prefer when I make you wet.”
“Can you keep your voice down?” A deeper shade of red paints my cheeks. I glance across the table, noticing Dana and Reece locked in a whispered conversation. Maybe they didn’t hear a thing, or maybe they heard it all and they’re having a nice little chat about my screwed up arrangement.
“Am I embarrassing you in front of your friends?” Blake asks, a little louder this time. His words are embarrassing me, as is the obvious way my body reacts to him. Whenever he’s within a couple feet, I become a withering, flimsy petal rolled between his stupid, magic fingers.
“Will you two stop already?” Dana groans from across the table.
“I’m confused. Is this the guy?” Reece pipes in, eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement.
“They’re fucking,” Dana remarks matter-of-factly. Oh God. I want to be anywhere but here. Blake is going to know I have a big mouth, and Reece is probably wondering how she picked the company slut as a new friend.
“What’s the difference?” Reece pipes in.
I grimace, draining the rest of my margarita in an attempt to hide my face. For his part, Blake is quiet. He’s either grinning at how uncomfortable this is all making me or pissed that the whole world suddenly knows our business.
“There’s a huge difference. I’ll explain it to you when we’re sober,” Dana adds.
There is an immense difference between a relationship and fucking . . . I’m just learning that myself. He doesn’t take me to dinner or pull me close like a second skin after sex. We just have this thing—an intense, sanity-stealing chemistry—that makes it impossible to keep our hands to ourselves. In some ways, it’s more powerful than the connection I had with Derek. No feelings—just a fierce, undeniable attraction.
I didn’t move here with any intention of starting something like this so soon, but sometimes we don’t get to choose where we land. Life has taught me that over and over again in both good and bad ways. With Blake, I must have had a choice, but I don’t remember choosing him.
Shaking my thoughts, I bring my focus back to the group around me. Reece stares at me incredulously, and it dawns on me that I haven’t officially introduced her to my . . . whatever he is. When I finally take a chance and look up at him, he’s staring at me with this amused expression on his face. Watching me squirm is entertaining to him, I guess. “Blake, you’ve already met Dana, but this is Reece. She’s a friend from my other job.”
“Like a peanut butter cup?” Blake jokes, shifting his eyes to Reece. I instantly want his attention back. He’s not mine, but he is.
“Blake, stop!” I groan, just loud enough that my group around the table hears me.
“These two seem like they could use some alone time. Let’s go dance,” Dana suggests. Her wide eyes shift from me to Reece, silently begging her to agree so they can get out from under the awkwardness at our table.
“Only if you promise to keep me far away from Crotch-to-Ass guy,” Reece responds.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find someone sexy for you to grind with.”
Reece looks like the music just cued up on that popular shark attack movie, and she’s about to be clamped in the jaw of the giant fish. “Or we could just leave.”
Dana laughs. “Nope. Come on.”
My shy new friend wrings her hands together as she stares at me from across the table. A good person would rescue her from the water, but being around Blake doesn’t necessarily put me under the best light. “Go, I’ll join you guys in a couple minutes.”
After one last narrowing of her eyes, she begrudgingly follows Dana. As they disappear into the crowd, I look over and meet Blake’s gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eye I rarely see. A gorgeous smile curves his lips. He makes it incredibly hard to remember why I was angry with him just seconds ago.
His hand moves between my barely covered legs, his fingers slowly working their way upward. My breath hitches. He wouldn’t go there . . . not here with all these people surrounding us. A little higher, and I know I’m wrong. This man has no inhibitions. “Come home with me.”
“I need another drink first.” I alternate between swallowing down my rebuttal and squeezing my thighs together. Swallow. Squeeze. Swallow. Squeeze. If our waitress doesn’t come back soon, I’ll have no choice but to throw back whatever I can find on the table to help drown these nerves.
“I can do so much more for you than a drink ever can. You should know that by now.” His voice purrs, his breath hitting my cheek. He’s not exaggerating, but I’m not leaving just yet.
The waitress reappears before I get a chance to turn him down . . . or that’s what I think I was going to do. “I need another margarita, please. The largest one you’ve got.”
She glances between Blake and me, shaking her head. “You got it.”
As soon as she turns her back, Blake surprises me by pressing his lips to my neck—that magical spot right below my ear. I moan softly, feeling the familiar tingle travel down my spine.
“That good, huh?” he whispers against my skin.
Maybe it’s just the tequila, but I need his hands on me—all over me. My next words surprise even me. “Dance with me.”
His grin could melt thousands of panties and break a million hearts. Damn him. “I don’t dance.”
“Not a big deal,” I say, pushing against his shoulder to hint that I want out. “I’ll find someone else to rub their hands all over my body.”
He groans, angling himself to cage me in. “I dare you.”
“Well, Blake,” I say, patting his strong chest. “A dare is something I never walk away from.”
His attention darts to my lips and just when I think he might kiss me, he slides out of the booth. “This should be fun,” he announces, crossing his arms over his chest.
Without a second thought, I scoot out and bring myself up so we’re chest to chest. There’s a playful glimmer in his eyes—one I usually only witness seconds before he devours me. It’s taking every bit of my self-control not to beg him to take me home and do what he promised earlier.
I lift myself to my tiptoes, using his shoulders as leverage. I close the gap between us, and when he smiles like I might kiss him, I change paths until my lips are against his ear. “I’ll be back in a little while . . . maybe.”
I spin around, swaying my hips to show him what he’s missing. I’m probably not very good at it, but the alcohol helps.
“Hey, Lemon Drop!” he yells when I’m a few steps away.