I’m never one to back down from a challenge, but at the moment there is no fight in me—none whatsoever. I nod, gripping the back of his head with both of my hands and attempt to bring his mouth back where I want it—where I desperately need it.
What is it about this man that has me willing—hell, practically begging—for him to take me right here, out in the open for anyone to see? The way my hips are grinding into his pelvis like they have a mind of their own—the mind of a slut—tells me what I think I already knew… I’ve not learned a damn thing from our past experience.
“Say it,” he commands, through a jumble of nipping lips and gnashing teeth.
“T—ten,” I agree, sagging into him as I mewl against his lips.
With that, he breaks away, sporting a satisfied smile as he tucks my hand into his. “That’s more like it.” He tugs my arm, moving toward the entrance, but I’m still too worked up to move, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Come on, we got some rugs to cut.”
“What?” I gawk at him like he’s speaking another language while adjusting my clothes.
“Cut a rug?” He does a little shimmy. “You know? Dancing.”
“Right.” I suck in as much of the cool December air as I can as we cross the parking lot, attempting to regain my wits before entering the bar. “You ever been before?”
He inclines his head, looking up at the flashing neon pink sign. “Here specifically? Or line dancing?”
“Either…both.”
“Neither,” he admits, gripping the lapels of my jean jacket and pulling me in to plant a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’m not really one for formal dancing.”
“Great,” I rasp, reaching around him for the door handle. “This should be a blast.”
My adrenaline starts pumping when we step inside, greeted by the flashing strobe lights and the familiar tune of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” blaring through the speakers. My hips start swaying along to the sound of boot heels stamping on the wood floor in time with the beat.
Dancing might not be his thing, but I was born for it.
“Keep that up,” he teases, pulling me back into his chest with a finger hooked through the beltloop at the small of my back, “And I’m gonna have to find the owner of this place…see if they have a dumpster out back.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I tease, feeling emboldened by the lively atmosphere, and also still more than a bit worked up.
He nibbles my ear lobe before jutting his chin out straight ahead toward my petite brunette bestie who’s standing on a stool, flailing her arms in the air like a maniac to get our attention. “Wonder if she noticed us walk in?” he muses.
Kate and Beau have somehow managed to snag one of the coveted high-tops right off the dance floor. They must’ve gotten here as soon as the place opened.
They are adorable…all matchy, she in black leggings, a plaid tunic, western boots, and her hair in twin braids draped over each shoulder. Beau’s dressed down from his usual lawyer garb, in a black button down tucked into a pair of Wranglers and cowboy boots. His habitually styled hair is wind-tousled, giving him a playful charm. “Damn, Beau,” I tease, leaning in for a hug. “You look almost human tonight.”
“Could say the same about you,” he counters, looking me over from head to toe. “Where’s the pencil skirt and red bottom heels?”
“Ahem,” Kate hacks, loudly. “We’re standing right here, assholes. Stop flirting…damn.”
I roll my eyes, making my way around to give her a tight squeeze. “You look very pretty.” It’s nothing new where she’s concerned, but I’m always sure to say it anyway. I’m a good friend like that.
“Thanks,” she beams. “So do you.”
“Ahem,” Wyatt interrupts. “We’re standing right here. Damn, Kate, stop flirting with my woman.”
My best friend’s eyes widen. “Are you two…?”
“No!” I rush out at the same time that he answers in the affirmative.
“We are not dating,” she insists, glowering at me.
“We totally are,” I argue, getting a kick out of the matching shit-eating grins on our best friends’ faces. “I held another man’s dick in the palm of my hand to earn the right to say that.”
Alcohol sprays out of Kate’s mouth. “I’m sorry, you did what?”
Whitney shields her face with both hands.
“You didn’t tell her?” I wince, becoming a bit anxious because I think I may have just landed myself in a heap of trouble. “I assumed—”
“And you know what they say about assuming,” she snaps back, her hands moving to rest on the curves of her hips.
I look around for a little help, finding none from these two clowns. “No, actually I don’t… What do they say?”
“Precisely.” She winks.
I can only imagine how dumb I must look at the moment, because whatever point she thinks she’s just proven has gone way over my head.
“Means you shouldn’t assume,” Beau says, finally jumping in with the save. Better late than never, I guess.
“Well, one of y’all better start talkin’, cuz my imagination’s runnin’ wild!” Kate holds both palms out, flashing her fingers opened and closed with her curious eyes bouncing between us.
“It wasn’t an actual dick,” Whit shouts just as the music fades out. At least five heads whip in our direction, and I cannot control my hysterical laughter at her expense.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Mind y’all’s own damn business,” Kate growls, shooing them with a flick of her wrist. “Buncha freaking busy-bodies.” She redirects her attention to Whitney, who by the looks of it would like nothing more than to evaporate into thin air. “Go on…”
“I’m not trying to spread anyone’s business,” Whitney shoots me a pair of laser eyes that warn I’d better not either.
“Too late.” Beau’s worse than a woman once his interest is piqued. “Out with it.”
“Relax…it was just a dildo.” One look at Beau and Kate’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expressions lets me know that I should have just kept my big mouth shut…again.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Whit offers, slinking back around the table to lace her arm through mine. “Didn’t feel it was my place…” She pats the top of my hand with hers, as if trying to comfort me. “But I guess the cat’s outta the bag. Y’all, Wyatt here is one kinky mofo.”
“Is he now?” my nosy cousin-in-law croons, resting her forearms on the table and leaning in close.
“You think you know someone,” Beau adds, scrubbing a hand over his jaw like he’s trying to figure me out. “We’ll revisit this topic later.”
“The fuck we will.”
Whitney’s back vibrates against my chest while she fights to control her laughter. “Let’s not embarrass him, y’all. We came here to have a good time.”
“Speaking of a good time”—Kate pushes a glass across the table—“I took the honor of ordering you a Crown and Coke.” She dangles her drink in the air. “Heavy on the Crown. You got some catchin’ up to do.”