And he does deliver. One hand stays on my ass, and the other wraps in my hair and gives a sharp tug before he plasters his palm on the back of my head to hold me to him. He tastes like cheap beer and smells like fine cologne and feels so solid beneath my arms, which have wrapped around his shoulders to keep this moment a little while longer. This kiss is the perfect mix of hard and soft, need and want.
Yes, those are two different things.
The stroke of his tongue deep in my mouth is indecent and makes me crave that much more the same motion with lower parts. But the firm glide of his lips against my own feels like a meal he’s consuming to sustain himself because he’ll die without it.
I am giving in completely when a loud whistle close by startles me.
Even Jim gets distracted, pulling away from me, only to find the entire basement staring at us before erupting into cheers and applause.
His smile is blinding as he gazes at me. “This has been a long time coming.”
“There will be no coming under these circumstances for me.”
He throws his head back in laughter. His Adam’s apple ripples with the sound until he straightens again. Another quick kiss to my lips, and then, “Come on. Let’s go play some pong and see if I can make you mad enough to win.”
Chapter Thirty
I am not mad, and so we are not winning. We barely scraped by on the last game, and that was wholly due to Jim.
Nate grins from across the table. “Aww, don’t look so upset, Highness. Do you want us to pretend you’re letting us win because you feel bad for us?”
“She doesn’t feel bad for anyone, and you just wait until I unleash my secret weapon on you,” Jim retorts, lining up his shot, which he misses.
“You’ve been saying that for the past hour!” Tim howls. “We’re still waiting!”
I think Jim tries to flip them off, but all he does is knock over the empty cups stacked on the corner of the table. In all fairness, he’s been chugging the warm beer, so I don’t have to. That means he’s back to drunk. And he’s getting increasingly frustrated because I am also buzzed enough for the perpetual ringing in my ears to drown out his words.
Tim sinks a ball, and Jim chugs more cheap beer.
He wipes his arm across his mouth then turns to me, gripping my shoulders in his hands roughly enough that it would hurt if I wasn’t so deliciously tingly. “All right, I’m done playing around. It’s time to break out the big guns.” He pauses a moment, purses his lips, then lets loose. “I have slept with nearly every woman at this party tonight.”
“I thought you said you’d only slept with three women since freshman year?”
“I lied.”
I roll my eyes and take the shot. And miss.
Nate and Tim laugh their asses off.
Jim’s mouth drops open, and he extends his arm as if to say, What the fuck?
“That was a lie.”
“How do you know which is the lie?”
“Because you don’t want to be anything like Alex.”
He does this entire body shake. Like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. “Fuck! Work with me here!”
“Okay … even if you really had slept with all these women, telling me that would hurt. Not make me mad.”
“Oh. I gotcha. I haven’t found the right formula yet. Okay.” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling and clamps his hand over his mouth. He’s either holding back puke or thinking really hard.
He doesn’t even move when Nate sails another ball right into one of our cups. His voice comes out mumbled. “You’re drinking that one. I’m still thinking.”
Fine.
I tip the cup to my lips and take a tentative sip as Nate and Tim start a chant of, “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Blech. Nasty. Maybe if I hold my breath …
Nope. It’s no good. I gag.
And the guys laugh some more.
“You’re gonna get world-class blow jobs from this one!” Tim shouts.
“Christ.” Jim rips the cup out of my hand as my cheeks heat with embarrassment on more than one count. “Gimme that.”
He chugs it all down and throws the ball without even looking.
And obviously misses.
Tim does not.
I try again and actually get about half of it down before my throat locks up.
Jim pulls the cup away, downs it, and looks all too pleased with himself. “I’ve got it.”
I’m actually a little afraid by the gleam in his eyes.
He leans in and curls his lips into mean Jimbo. “When I was sitting outside that bathroom all night, I recorded the sounds of your shitfest on my phone, and so help me God, if you do not make this next shot, I will play it for the entire band to hear in every sordid detail.”
The horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He pats my cheek a little too roughly. “Oh, sweetheart. You should know me by now.”
I do. And he would. Or the old Jimbo would. Not my James. Jimmy might. Fuck, why is this so hard?
I make the shot.
Jim’s entire face lights up, and he raises his arms and shouts like he just won the Super Bowl.
“Dude.” Nate laughs. “You already lost.”
“No! We just found our groove!” He gestures wildly, solidly hitting me in the boobs. That hurts, not gonna lie. “Bring me fresh opponents! And more beer! Pledge!”
Really-drunk Jimbo is not as fun as sort-of-drunk Jimbo. Or maybe I’m not drunk enough to appreciate him.
“We don’t have any pledges yet,” I remind him.
He turns to me with another scary gleam in his eyes. “Oh, the rest of the brothers might not, but I do.” He leans in and licks his lips. “Sophie, my personal little wench, fetch us fresh beer.”
“I will burn you to the ground,” I grind out.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, if you could channel that feeling into our next game, that’d be great.” He makes a shooing motion. “Go on. Be a good little wife and bring me more beer.” He grins. “If you’re fast enough, I promise to knock you up later with our fifth kid.”
I push my way toward the bar while I fantasize about castrating him, so he can’t make babies with anyone.
Shannon meets me halfway. “Jake and I called dibs! We’re playing you next! I wanna see this great weapon Jimbo keeps bragging about!”
At least, with Shannon’s help, I refill the pong table faster.
“All right,” Jake announces, “let’s do this. A battle royale for the position of ultimate power band couple.”
Jim and I exchange a glance. We only compete with each other.
He starts first. “I’m giving up world-class blow jobs to be with you.”
I miss.
He cocks his head to the side, waiting. On something.
Oh! Oh! I get it!
“Hurtful.” I tap his arm. He might not even remember any of this tomorrow. Maybe I can get some valuable information out of this, too. And have some fun. “If you ever call me your personal little beer wench again, I’ll cut off your balls. You’ll never make babies with anyone.”
He misses his shot. “Hurtful.”
Wow. Really? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Men are sensitive about their man parts.