“What’s a Rusty Nail?” I ask.
“Scotch whiskey and orange peel. What am I in for with the Crouching Tiger?”
“It’s a type of tequila shot.”
He nods. “One where I get to lick salt off you?”
My body heats as I imagine his mouth on the most sensitive part of my body. Well, not the most sensitive, but the part he could lick in public anyway. “Sorry, it’s a straight shot.”
“And I thought we were getting somewhere here.” He winks and my stomach somersaults.
Of course I’d imagined our date turning into a one-night stand, but could it actually be possible?
“And where are you hoping for it to go?” I raise my eyebrows.
He laughs, sliding out of the booth. “Shuffleboard?”
“Sure.” I let him dodge the question because I’m not sure I want an answer right now. “I will warn you, I’ve never played this before.”
He pulls the small disks from the side and puts them on the hardwood surface. “No talking shit like you did with ice skating? Admitting defeat before we even start? We’ve only known each other a short time, but I find it surprising.”
I mock offense while sliding one of the discs back and forth. “Should I be insulted?”
He comes over and his hand covers mine. “Not at all. You just seem like a woman who doesn’t take defeat easily. Someone who constantly strives for perfection and never admits when she’s unsure.”
His hand is soft under mine, but it’s still large enough to remind me that he’s a man. “You might be a little right.”
“Don’t change who you are on account of me. I’m a nobody.”
“You’re the Prince of Sandsal.”
Then he removes his hand from mine and circles behind me, his lips right at my ear. “Not tonight. Tonight I’m your date, Adrian Marx. That’s it.”
His voice is low and sultry, and I clench my thighs before I can allow myself to swivel around and use my lips to shut him up.
His hand covers mine again and we’re moving the disc thing back and forth. “This is a weight.”
I nod, unable to find my voice.
“It’s all about the pressure and force you use to release it. The goal is to get it to the last section without falling off. Bonus if you knock out an opponent’s disc.” He initiates the release, and I miss his touch as soon as the disc travels down the tabletop, stopping right before the edge.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Not even going to try to hustle me, huh?”
He chuckles and steps away from me, picking up the two shots that the waitress must’ve dropped off as I was lost in Adrian. Handing one over, he holds his up high. “To whatever tonight brings.”
I clink his glass and we down the shots.
He flags down the waitress. “Two Big Bamboos.”
She nods and heads to the bar.
“Are you on a mission to get drunk?” I ask.
“Nah, but I think we both need some nerves to disappear.”
I try to decipher what he’s talking about and why he would have any nerves. The man has a way of always appearing in charge and in control of himself.
“Ready?”
I nod, sipping my martini and stepping up to the board.
“Ladies first.” He does the whole arm out and bow like you’d expect a prince to do.
“Man, you’ve perfected that move.” I stand in front of the board.
“I watch a lot of Disney movies.”
I try to keep the alcohol in my mouth, but it sputters out, dripping to the floor, when I laugh. “I knew you’d be fun to party with.”
I grab a napkin and bend down to wipe up my mess. He crouches in front of me and our eyes meet.
Something’s there.
It feels like a promise that says we’re about to start the really fun part of our date.
Chapter Six
Sierra
My assumption is that Adrian’s been playing shuffleboard since birth because he’s beaten me five games out of five. Plus, I think he could outdrink anyone—including Chugger, the guy who was rumored to drink a pony keg on his own one night in college. Whereas my lips already feel tingly and my hands keep venturing over and touching any part of Adrian that’s acceptable. He’s not complaining though.
I slide my last disc and it tips off the table halfway down. “I’m out.” Picking up my glass, I slide back into the circular booth. The next round of shots that Adrian ordered is waiting for us. “I might have to pass on this one.”
“I never figured you for a lightweight.” He slides in after me, another Rusty Nail in his hand.
“Unless you’d like me to ruin your outfit with vomit, I suggest we cool it for a little while.” I flag down our waitress, who has smiled at us twice now. I think she likes Adrian’s accent. “Water please.”
She nods, picking up the empty glasses off the table.
Watching her so I can effectively ignore the feeling of Adrian’s eyes on me, I spot a table full of girls. One of them is staring at her phone and then at Adrian.
“Uh oh,” I say.
Adrian leans back, his drink in his hand. “I’m not going to lie, Sierra, I’d like you to spend the night with me at my hotel.”
My head twists in his direction. His face shows no sign of joking.
“Um.” Who just asks like that? Who does that?
A prince does that. A guy who’s never told no. A guy who’s probably slept with any woman he’s ever wanted. And I’m sure there were a lot.
“You’re not shy.”
“There’s no point in pretending I don’t want you. Will you spend the night with me?”
I shake my head to clear it, thankful when the waitress slides the glass of water my way. My lips attach to the straw and I suck until the glass is half empty. He’s still staring at me when I glance over.
He’s wearing a cocky smirk mixed with a Cheshire Cat grin because he knows I want him. “I’ll serve you breakfast in the morning, but then it’s back to reality for both of us.”
I nod, still taken aback. I’m not sure I remember having a conversation before a one-night stand. This is a first for me, but he’s Prince Adrian Marx. The man I’ve been following for almost a year. A man I’ve masturbated to more times than any other man. Oh, how I want to know if my imagination is right.
“Excuse me?”
Our heads turn to find the girl I saw with the phone standing at the edge of our table.
The elation in my stomach sinks because she has her phone out.
Adrian’s smile fades for a moment.
She looks over her shoulder at her group of friends, who are staring. “Are you Prince Adrian?”
He bites his lip for a moment. “I am.”
Her entire face lights up like I imagine mine would have if I had accidentally run into him. She practically jumps up and down. Adrian looks at me from the corner of his eye but keeps his focus on her.
She waves her friends over and they all hurry off their stools, each one armed with a phone.
“Can we have a picture?”
Adrian slides out of the booth. “Sure.”
“Oh no, we’ll come in your way.” The group slides in on his side. “Would you take the picture?” The girl who can’t keep her eyes off Adrian hands me her phone.