“Good job we’ll only be doing three shots each.”
“Babe, I literally watched you down four shots of Fireball along with two Long Island iced teas and a margarita. And that was after you drank a bottle of champagne, plus whatever else you’d swallowed before you came into the bar. Three shots of this won’t even touch you.”
I smirk proudly at him. I might be a loser in many aspects of my life, but I’ve always been able to hold my liquor. “It was two mini bottles of red and white wine, plus the bottle of beer that was in the minibar, along with the champagne, of course, before I came to the bar.”
“I honestly don’t know if I should be concerned or impressed at your tolerance for alcohol.”
“Definitely impressed.” I grin at him. “Right, come on. Let’s do this. Hit me with your first question.”
“Okay. Never have I ever … been to Hull.”
“Really?” I raise a brow at him.
He grins. “I never said I played fair.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I put the glass to my lips and tip my head back.
The gin scorches my throat on the way down. “Fuck, that’s strong.” I wince, putting down the glass and blowing out a breath, which feels like it’s actually fire and not air.
“Now, off with the dress.”
Getting up on my knees, I take the hem of my dress, pull it over my head, and set it down on the lounger behind me. Thank the Lord I’m wearing decent underwear. It’s my nicest set. Lacy and black. Which was obviously put on in anticipation of possibly seeing him tonight.
And from the look in his eyes, he definitely likes my lacy black underwear.
Without taking his eyes from me, he picks up the bottle and refills my glass. “Your turn,” he says.
“Hmm.” I tap my fingers on my chin, thinking for a moment. “Okay. I’ve got one.” I’m confident that I’ve got him here because all men do this. “Never have I ever ghosted someone.”
West doesn’t move or attempt to drink.
My confidence deflates like a popped balloon. “You’ve never ghosted anyone?”
“Told you, Double D. I’m a straightforward guy. I don’t wanna fuck someone anymore, I tell them.”
Ugh.
“My turn,” he says. “Never have I ever … sent someone a naked pic.”
“You’ve never sent someone a naked selfie?” I’m honestly shocked.
If I looked like him, I’d be sending them out to whoever wanted one. Maybe even people who didn’t.
Kidding.
“Nope. Can’t have pics of my dick floating around the internet. The NFL wouldn’t like that.”
Is it weird that I didn’t actually register until this point that he’s probably something of a celebrity back home? I mean, the NFL is like our Premier League, and footballers back home are famous. Granted, I don’t know many of them. But if there was one who looked like him, I’d definitely know about him.
Sighing, I toss back the shot and hand him back the glass to refill.
While he’s topping my glass up, I reach back, unhook my bra, and pull it off. Thank God no one can see onto my deck. Unless there’s the actual Aquaman out there and he’s gonna pop up out of the water any moment now. Which, in all fairness, I wouldn’t be opposed to Jason Momoa seeing my bare breasts.
I toss my bra at him. He catches it and hangs it over his shoulder, like a bloody trophy.
Okay. So, I’m two shots in, two items down, and he’s still had no shots and got all of his clothes. I need something good here.
Think, Dillon. Think …
There has to be something I haven’t done that he definitely has.
Ooh. I’ve got it! A guy who is as sexually experienced as he is, is sure to have done this.
“Okay.” I clear my dry throat, which I’m pretty sure no longer has any flesh left covering it because the alcohol has burned it all off. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”
He grins. “Well played.” He puts the shot glass to his lips and tosses back the gin. “Fuck!” he growls. “That’s some strong-ass gin!”
“Told ya,” I say as he puts his glass down. “Clothes now. I’ll refill for you.”
He removes the bloody slippers he’s not wearing and not the robe or trunks. Of course, this is my fault for putting more clothes on him.
And it’s also his turn now. I just know I’m gonna lose my panties.
“Okay. Never have I ever faked it.”
Oh! I’m safe! I’ve never faked an orgasm before.
I grin and shake my head.
His brow lifts. “You’ve never faked an orgasm before?”
“Nope.” I give a winning smile.
“Not even with the ex who … needed a map just to find your vagina and a satnav to your clit?”
I wince. “When did I … oh, for fuck’s sake. Was there anything I didn’t say or tell you that night?”
A playful expression slides onto his face. “Maybe. But not much. You did tell me a lot of stuff that night.”
I stare down at the small glass of gin in my hand. “Might not be a good idea for me to keep drinking these. I might just get wasted again and tell you all the things I didn’t get around to telling you the other night.”
“Sounds like a fun time to me.” His tone is dry, so I can’t tell if he’s being for real or sarcastic. But I’ll go with the latter because I can’t imagine listening to drunk me drone on about boring shit is much fun.
“So, okay, it’s my turn. I need to think about this because you’re still fully clothed and I’m not so … oh, got one!”
Every guy has said this without a doubt. West might be a good guy, but he was also a teenager once, and teenage boys will do anything to get laid.
Biting back a grin, I say, “Never have I ever told someone I loved them just to get laid.”
His gorgeous gray eyes narrow on me, and I know I’ve got him.
Shaking his head, he tosses back the drink and thrusts the empty shot glass out at me.
Laughing, I take the glass and refill it from the bottle while he takes off that robe.
“In my defense,” he says, taking the now-full shot glass that I’m holding out to him, “it was one time, and I was sixteen. She was the hottest girl in school, and getting my dick wet was the only thing I thought about back then.”
“Isn’t getting your dick wet the only thing you think about now?” I tease.
He gives me a serious look. “No. I also think a lot about getting your pussy wet.”
Oh. My.
My mouth dries again, and I’m almost tempted to throw this shot back to moisten it.
“Okay.” Another clearing of my throat. “It’s your turn.”
I’ve just got to get through this round and catch him on my next turn, and I’ll win. And I love to win.
I’m a little competitive, if you haven’t guessed.
West stares at me and says, “Never have I ever watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians.”
I smile winningly. “Never watched it.”
He frowns. “I thought every woman on the planet had watched at least one episode of that crap.”
“Not this girl.” I grin.