“I think you’ve had enough of your faux-tini,” her husband admonishes, sliding it away from her grabby hands.
“But I’ve only had that one.”
“Which is already more sugar than you ever typically drink.”
She starts pouting but quickly gets over it, overtly pointing at Mr. Sexy Voice’s crotch and then over toward my vagina, in case I wasn’t getting it before.
“Jesus, Sav, do you really have to?” Carter groans as he peeks over at her trivia paper, copying her answer onto his own sheet, because obviously he has no idea who Britney and Christina are. Sad, really.
Me? I haven’t even been able to write down my answer yet because I haven’t been able to tear myself away. Savannah is right. It is those eyes. And that confident smirk. And everything Savannah just said… the whole coming on his cock while he’s fucking me thing?
I could go for something like that. No, scratch that, I need something like that.
As if reading my mind, he does this whole once-over thing, his eyes lingering and slow, lazy yet scrupulous in their investigation. He’s devouring. Hungry. Staring at me with such focused attention I can hardly breathe.
A large hand runs roughly through his dark-brown hair, brushing back some of the sweat-dampened strands that fell onto his forehead. It’s a hot move. But then again, he’s pretty damn hot. His face is a lesson in perfection with a straight nose and a stubbled, chiseled jaw cut with sharp, sloping angles that beg for my hand. Not to run along his delicious stubble. Not to feel the indents of his twin dimples. But to smack and redden for staring at me like he’s got me all figured out while making my panties just the slightest bit wet with his cocky grin and surefire stare.
It’s tempting and unsettling all at once.
His tall, muscular body clothed in dark-wash jeans and a black button-up that hugs shamelessly to his cut chest and abs moves in my direction. Suddenly, I’m less than two feet from him. I sit up straight, quirking my head in question as he approaches me. A waft of his scent hits me at this very moment and I take a deep inhale of spicy cologne, musky body wash, and sweat. Dear Lord, it’s a scent that should be illegal.
“Don’t know the answer, Angel?” His voice is a coarse rasp.
Angel? I inwardly smirk. I’m Persephone, lured into the darkness of Hades. My spring stolen from me with just one glance from him.
“Everyone knows it’s Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears.”
He grins, his eyes flashing about my face as if he’s trying to memorize it. “But you haven’t written your answer yet.”
“I was getting there. Someone distracted me. Besides, isn’t it considered unethical to help players out?”
“Who says I’m helping? All I asked was if you knew the answer.”
“Which obviously I do. Besides, if you’re not here to help then what are you doing?”
“Talking to the pretty woman I’ve been trying to catch the attention of all night.”
“In the middle of a game?”
He shrugs an indifferent shoulder. “Couldn’t care less. This isn’t my real gig. I’m just filling in for a friend who has the flu, so I can be as unethical as I want.” He dips down, getting a little closer. And suddenly it’s like there is no one else here but us. All I see are the blue of his irises. All I feel is the weight and power of his smile that makes my heart flutter and my belly swoop with anticipation.
That is until cockblocking Oliver sets his elbows firmly on the table, jostling everyone’s drinks, ready to go all big brother on his ass.
“Are we going to get our next question or are you going to flirt with her all night?”
The guy laughs without removing his eyes from me.
“Boyfriend?” he questions.
“Brother,” I reply.
“And this guy?” He juts his chin in Carter’s direction.
“Brother,” Carter answers for me. “And just as protective as the other. So maybe it’s best to get back to your job now?”
Mister Sexy Voice is undeterred as he gives me another slow perusal. “Wanna help me do the next question?”
I go to say no when Savannah practically launches herself across the table, her belly nearly toppling over half the drinks, and shoves me out of the booth. “Yes,” she screams. “She’d love to.”
I stumble a step only for the guy to catch me before I face-plant on the nasty bar floor. I swivel back to her with a pointed glare. “What the hell are you doing? I’m about to win this game and take all you suckers down.”
She shakes her head dismissively, her eyes wide like she’s trying to tell me something only to come off looking constipated. I frown, pinching my eyebrows in at her and she huffs out an exasperated breath. “Whatever. Who cares? He’s hot. Forget winning and ignore your brothers. Here...” She slides my drink across the scratched-up table. “Finish this and go call some trivia.”
I turn back to the guy, staring into his eyes. Around us the anxiously waiting crowd is starting to grow impatient, more demanding as time ticks by. He’s even getting a few nasty comments slung his way in slurred tongues. The charming stranger is unruffled. He looks like he has all the time in the world.
“About to win, huh?” he questions.
“I’m a trivia master.”
He grins at that, making those dimples pop. “What do you get if you win?”
“Bragging rights and free drinks.”
“I’ll buy you drinks.”
“But you can’t give me bragging rights.”
He considers this. “Tell you what then. I’ve got a better idea.” With that, he turns, and I sit back down, furiously writing my answer to the last question, and then wait for the next. “Alright, last question of the night. If the beautiful blonde sitting over there” —he points directly at me— “gets it correct, she’s going to be my midnight kiss. If she wins the entire game, she’s going to give me her name and number.”
My jaw unhinges itself as my eyes pop open wide. A flush creeps up my face, but I quickly wrangle myself in check. Bold. I’ll give him that.
“Wow.” I think Savannah is for once stunned speechless.
“What about me?” another girl calls out with a flirty tweet to her voice. “What do I get if I win?”
The guy chuckles, running his hand through his hair and mussing it all up in that sexy, disheveled way. “Sorry, she’s the only one I want.”
“Damn.” Carter whistles through his teeth. “He’s good. I’ll give him that. He’s really fucking good.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “Should we kill him now or wait?”
“Wait,” we all say in unison. I take a sip of my drink, gearing up some of my courage.
“What if I don’t agree to the terms?” I yell, sitting back in my seat and folding my arms, lifting a defiant eyebrow in his direction.
“You will,” he assures me, having this conversation with a microphone in front of his lips and a crowded bar as his backdrop. He is pure confidence. Not even an inch of doubt in him. “You’re a trivia master, right? Determined to win? That means you don’t back down from a challenge. You won’t throw the game with the risk of losing.”