“Easy, princess, only water for you now.” Beckett’s firm hand rubs soothing circles over my back, and his touch sends tingles between my legs, turning the ache that’s been there for most of the evening into a throb.
I cross my legs, the action causing my dress to ride up, and Beckett's hand unexpectedly lands on my bare skin, making me gasp.
“Your dress…” he chokes out as if the words were physically painful to speak.
“What about it?” I whisper into his ear, our bodies so close I can smell his cedarwood cologne, the scent making me dizzy.
“It’s, um, not covering you.”
“And why is that a problem? Do you not like what you see?” The Alcohol giving me the confidence to be bold. My eyes flutter as his hand glides a little higher.
“Oh, I like, very much, but so does the guy in the grey shirt to my right, and that, is what I have a problem with,” he says, his tone gravelly and possessive, and if I wasn’t feeling turned on before, I sure as hell was now. No one has ever acted jealous or possessive over me.
I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, next to two women and another man, is a guy in a grey shirt, with dark hair, his eyes fixated on where Beckett's hand is placed protectively on my thigh.
“So he does, and why is that a problem? I am single now after all.” I know I am playing a dangerous game here, but that doesn’t stop me. I not only need some fun, a distraction, but I want it.
“It’s a problem, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. His jaw tenses and he flexes his neck as if he is having an internal battle over what he wants to say.
I lean in even closer now; we are just a breath apart, and his hand squeezes the flesh of my thigh. I bite down on my lip to stop a moan escaping.
“Because…” I repeat his words, praying he’ll finish his sentence.
“Because he’s been looking at you all evening like he wants to take you up to his room and have you for dessert.”
“And, what’s the problem with that?” I tease. I get the reaction I was hoping for when he lets out a low growl and, with his free hand, tugs my bar stall closer, causing me to let out a yelp. He cups the back of my head, his touch causing a spark of excitement to ripple through me and brings his mouth to my ear.
“It’s a problem, angel, because I’ve wanted to do the same damn thing since you walked in here tonight.”
Well, holy shit.
Chapter Eight
Beckett
The words slip out with ease, but I meant every one of them. I shouldn’t want her, but I do, and her body and her eyes have been telling me all night that she wants me too. We aren’t naïve; we know this won’t go anywhere. We’re both hurting, trying to find a way through this shitty day, so why not use each other in a way we both clearly need and want.
She leans back, pushing out her breasts and running her index finger down my chest, setting my body on fire and my dick straining in my pants. I knew the minute I touched her bare skin, I was fucked. Why did I do it? I know why. I want her. I want to be wanted, and I think she feels the same way, so why not get lost in each other for the night? I’ll never see this girl again; she’ll go off and do her thing, live her life, and I can focus on rebuilding mine.
“I like this possessive and jealous streak; I’ve never experienced it before,” she says softly, her hand now landing on my thigh.
“What, never? Your prick of an ex didn’t get jealous?” She shakes her head.
“I don’t think he would have cared if I fucked another man in front of him.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me. How could he be okay with other men ogling her? How did he not appreciate her?
“He’s an idiot, and you deserve better. If you were mine, I’d make sure everyone knew you were untouchable,” I confirm, not acknowledging the weight of my words. Instead, sliding my hand up her neck and pulling her in closer, so close I think about kissing her right here in the bar but I think better of it when I am forced back to reality as the room erupts into cheers and claps at Ted’s song finally finishing.
Two very drunk women take his spot, and the speaker blasts a Kelly Clarkson Christmas number.
“What else would you do? You know if I was yours?” Noelle asks, urging me to continue with this little fantasy of mine.
“Oh, Noelle, now that’s a loaded question and I’d do a better job showing you than telling you.” She gulps and her body shudders in what I hope is anticipation at my words.
“Can you excuse me? I need to go freshen up,” she says, her speech a little shaky. “Don’t go disappearing on me, okay?” She points at me, giving me a warning look.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I won’t move a muscle.”
