I’m about to start my three-month internship, and when I’m done, I’ll graduate and be another step closer to following through with my career goals—becoming a fashion designer and having my very own line of clothes in stores.
One night with the best kisser of my life isn’t going to get in the way of that.
Yep. I’m definitely going all in.
Theo starts to lean back and, firmly rooted to the side of the fence I’ve chosen, I can’t stop myself from pulling his mouth to mine again and kissing him even harder.
Giving nine months’ worth of pent-up arousal the permission to exit means I lose myself in the feel of his lips and tongue quickly, and I moan when his hands move to my hips and then to my ass, gripping the pliant flesh and keeping my body pressed against his.
I can feel his cock beneath the zipper of his slacks, and my body screams at my brain to move things along faster.
I’m a millisecond away from taking one tiny breath—long enough to suggest he gets us the fuck out of this club and into my hotel room—when a far-too-familiar voice comes over the speakers—over the song—and starts screaming.
“Hellooooooooooooo!” the voice shouts. “I’m bloody pissed, and it’s chuffing awesome!”
Oh shit. Pippa!
I pull away from Theo’s lips and look toward the DJ booth to find my now very drunk friend in a tug-of-war with the DJ over the microphone. She is giggling and grinning and completely oblivious to the fact that she should not be up there—and that the DJ is about two seconds away from strangling her.
Mid-pull, she leans toward the mic again and shouts, “Put your hands in the air if you’re pissed like me and you just don’t care! Everyone say A-OH!”
Surprisingly, the crowd joins in on her shenanigans and exclaims their enjoyment through hoots and hollers and, you guessed it, A-OHs!
The DJ, though, is none too thrilled.
“Ah fuck,” I mutter, glancing back at a beautifully disheveled but altogether confused Theo. My lipstick has left the evidence of our passion on his lips, and his hair looks like we made it all the way to the bedroom.
And he is still the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“That’s, uh, that’s my friend up there,” I say with a bashful point.
He glances toward the DJ booth and smirks. “Kathy Karaoke?”
I laugh and nod.
“Well…good news is she’s enjoying herself.”
I snort. “Uh, yeah, probably a little too much…” I tuck my hair behind my ear and worry my lip over giving in to what I know I have to do. My friend’s safety comes before my horniness, whether I like it or not. “I think I need to go get her before she gets arrested. I’ve seen way too many E! True Hollywood Stories about getting arrested in a foreign country.”
I’m not sure how in the hell she got away from Sophie, but that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is getting Pippa’s drinking debut under control. I can ask Sophie about the jailbreak later.
“A-OH! Yay-OH!” Pippa manages to shout into the mic again.
“Shit,” I mutter. “This is not good.”
“Don’t worry.” Theo places a reassuring hand on the small of my back. “I’ll help you get her out of here.” He ushers us in the direction of the DJ and puts his lips to my ear as we walk. “Are you staying at a hotel close by?”
“How do you know I don’t live here?” I ask, and he chuckles.
“No offense, but your American accent kind of gives you away.”
“Sort of like yours?”
He winks. “Exactly like mine.”
“We’re staying at Cruz Resorts. It’s about twenty minutes from here, headed toward Amalfi.”
“That works out well.”
I raise a brow.
“I’m staying there too,” he says, and my pussy does a herkie before shouting, This is a pleasant surprise!
“Errybody in da club get tipsy!” Pippa’s slightly slurred, completely off-key voice calls out again, and I grimace.
“So…uh…how exactly are you going to help me get Twenty-Five Cent back to the resort without her being put in handcuffs?”
Theo’s responding smile is downright enthralling. “Twenty-Five Cent?”
“I know the song is by J-Kwon, but if she’s gonna try to be a rapper, her name definitely needs a discount.” I shrug.
Theo pushes us through the thickest part of the crowd, right in front of the DJ booth, and leans down again to whisper in my ear. The vibrations of his lingering laugh send a jolt of electricity all the way to my toes. “I happen to know the guy who owns the club,” he says. “Give me a minute, and we’ll get your friend out of here safely.”
For some strange reason, I don’t question him. I don’t even doubt him.
Instead, I follow his lead up the steps to the DJ booth, and while he’s busy chatting with the now extremely irate DJ and another man who looks to be in charge, I wrap my arm around Pippa’s waist, put my yoga muscles to good use, and practically carry her away from the booth and toward the front of the club like a baby on my hip.
Thank God I’m getting her out of here now. I can only imagine if she’d been left to her own devices a little longer; I’d have had to find a Baby Bjorn carrier and sunglasses to support my role as Alan in The Hangover Part IV.
By the time I get her mostly dead weight out the front door, Theo has joined us, and a black Mercedes has pulled over in the extremely limited space across from the club.
Theo puts a shoulder under Pippa’s armpit and holds her up while I scoot into the back seat and ready myself for her.
Once I’m settled, he helps her duck, making sure to put a gentle hand on her head just in case she makes any sudden movements while sliding into the car, and looks to me with earnest, powerful deep-blue eyes. “You got her?”
I swallow around my nod, appreciation thick in my throat as Pippa giggles and leans into my lap.
Theo shuts the door and climbs into the front seat, but not without smiling at me first.
He speaks quickly and quietly to the driver, who nods and gets underway immediately.
I send a quick text to Sophie to let her know we left, pull Pippa deeper into my lap, and run my hand through her blond hair, hoping it’ll help to calm her down. The gesture buys me ten minutes, but when a second wind hits her, I swear, her volume increases.
“YOU GUYS!” Pippa shouts. “I…haaaaaad…the…time…of…myyyy…life!” I don’t know what made her think of the song from Dirty Dancing since there’s no music playing in the car, but I’m starting to wish someone would put this drunken baby in the fucking corner.
Honestly, it will be a miracle if we all make it back to the resort with functioning eardrums.
“Hey, Pippa,” I say sweetly, and she turns her lazy, boozed-up face toward mine, a blissful curl rounding the edges of her mouth. “Mind turning down the volume a little?”
Her head jerks so hard, I have to grab her hand to keep her from falling back into the window. “Am I being too loud?” she asks on a yell.
I wiggle a finger at the base of my ear to stop the ringing and smile slightly. “Just a little bit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Theo’s gaze. He’s watching the two of us as I tuck Pippa back into my shoulder and smooth the hair out of her face.