.jpg)
He’s grumpy. A tattooed bad boy. And my best friend’s brother.
“Kiss me.”
Did I hear her correctly?
Slowly, I turn my head toward her. I’m greeted with topaz blue eyes. Even in the dim lighting, they sparkle. Her voice is sugary sweet, just as I suspected. I don’t do sugary. Or sweet. “Did you just ask me to kiss you?” I tip up an eyebrow at her, wanting confirmation that I heard her correctly.
“Yes. I need to know if I’m broken.”
Again, I give her another questioning eyebrow.
She sits up straighter on her stool. “Have you ever kissed someone and there was no spark?”
“Uh. No.”
“Of course, you haven’t.” Her shoulders deflate. “You’re a guy. Guys care about one thing...” She glances down at my denim covered crotch, but the way her eyes linger doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I could say the same thing about you.” I peer down at my crotch, then meet her eyes. She says nothing, just lifts her beer and takes a sip. I wasn’t expecting her to give up so fast. I figured it would take a little more than her getting caught red-handed checking me out to get her to keep quiet. Grabbing my beer, I take a celebratory gulp.
She places her beer on the bar, then swivels her stool so she’s fully facing me. “I just need you to kiss me.”
I choke on my beer as I fight not to spray it all over the bar top. As soon as I finish coughing, I turn to her. She’s not going to give up.
She inches closer to the edge of her seat. Her knees almost touching my thigh. “Kiss me. I need to know that whatever I’m feeling is just a rut, and I’m not broken.”
“Where I come from, we don’t ask. If we want to kiss someone, we just do it.”
She gives me an exasperated sigh. “I don’t go around just kissing random strangers.”
“And this is…what?”
“This is an experiment. So don’t worry about that.” She waves me off.
I bark out a laugh. For the second time in our brief conversation, she made me laugh. Twice. It’s a foreign sound as of late. What is she doing to me? I shake it off. “So, now you’re just using me?”
Her lips tip up into a smile. “For experimental purposes. You’re not really my type.”
I scoff. But truth be told, I’m hypnotized by her plump cherry red lips and curious how they would feel on mine. “Wow. An insult on top of using me. How could anyone turn down your offer? I’ll let you in on a little secret.” I lean toward her, so my face is inches from her cheek. She smells sweet and rich, like jasmine. I regain my train of thought and whisper, “You’re not really my type either, duchess.” I pull away while keeping my eyes trained on hers, wanting to catch her reaction. Her breath hitches. Then she squares her shoulders as she composes herself.
“My name’s not duchess. It’s Oli—”
“Don’t care.” I take a drink of my beer.
“Well, there’s no reason to be rude about it. All I want is one simple little favor.” She pinches her fingers centimeters apart in front of her. “Just a kiss. It’s not like I was asking you to father my children. Also, just so we’re clear, I wouldn’t want that,” she glances down at my crotch again, “anywhere near me.”
Now it’s my turn to scoff. “I guarantee you’ll be thinking about this later tonight.” I nod toward my lap. “You’ll be squirming on top of your expensive as hell silk sheets wishing I was there to take away the ache between your legs.”
Her nostrils flair as she narrows her eyes. “How dare you make assumptions about me? You know nothing about me. Hell, you don’t even want to know my name. You just think you’re some big gruff guy, with a sexy bad boy vibe, and all the women will just flock to you like a seagull to a french fry. Well, guess what? That’s all you are. A seagull.”
“Did you just compare me to a bird?” I raise an eyebrow.
Without missing a beat, she replies, “I did. Because you’re annoying with a cocky attitude.”
“You’re the one who sat down next to me and rambled on about kissing me.”
“Clearly, it was a big mistake. The last thing I would want is a limp kiss from you. And I’m sure something else would hold the same limpness.” Her eyebrows raise as she nods to my crotch again.
“You’re on a roll. Now you challenge my manhood?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I call it like I see it.”
I lean in, my voice low. “Well duchess, I guarantee you I’d have you moaning my name in under five seconds. But I’d hate to dirty up your perfect good girl persona.”
“Good thing we’re not on a first name basis so I can’t moan anything. And once again my name isn’t duchess. What is it with guys and pet names? Is it so you can call all the girls the same name, so you never have to remember their real—”
Done with this conversation, I’ll give her what she wants and grease cover hands be damned. I wrap one hand around the back of her neck and haul her to me. Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline in surprise, and I slam my lips to hers.
When she’s not busy writing your next book boyfriend, Gia can be found playing in her vegetable garden, watching reruns of The OC and Gossip Girl, or curled up with a good book.
No comments:
Post a Comment