"I always forget Monte's real name isLevi."
Something about the statement—or maybe my current situation—strikes me so funny that a laugh rips from my throat. Drew's eyes fill with awe before suddenly growing darker. Out of nowhere, his gaze drops to my mouth, and the mood instantly switches back to one more fitting for our circumstances.
"Why wouldn't you tell me your name ten months ago?" His jaw is now tight, his face serious.
"Oh, come on, who doesn't like a little mystery?"
He shakes his head. "I'm serious. What's the difference between me and Whiskey Guy from earlier?"
"Who?" I scan the bar until I realize who he's talking about. "You mean Steve?"
"See,you twoare on a first-name basis." He speaks with swagger, but his eyes couldn't tell me a lie if they tried.
"I had no intention of sleeping withSteve."
His pupils dilate—which I'm blaming on the ambiance of the bar—but his shoulders physically relax. "So, you only keep your name a secret from any guy you plan to take to bed?"
"Or bathroom," I add quickly.
We both laugh, but I'm instantly transported back to when the same face next to me was buried between my thighs below said restroom's sink. Flooded with warmth, I slide out of my leather jacket and let it fall between my ass and the back of the stool.
Drew makes no attempt to hide the trail his eyes leave on my now-exposed skin before he brings them back to mine. "I don't buy it."
Inhaling deeply, I turn my body once again toward his, resting my hands in my lap. "I was different then. And he wasn'tyou."
Drew runs his hand through his hair and takes my eyes with him. He faces me and folds his arms across his chest. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I wasn't looking for anything serious."
He nods, his eyes narrow. "And the second part?"
I scoff. "You're the star player of the team my best friend's husband coaches. My name didn't really seem relevant." I take a sip of the wineI almost forgot was here and take a vested interest in the way the liquid swirls when I brush the stem of the glass between my fingers.
Drew copies me, his mouth finding the rim of his water as he lets a sip fall between his lips. I'm sure it's not meant to be seductive, but I hang on to the movement like it's the climax of a movie. When he pulls away, his lips glisten from the drink, and my vagina clenches in jealousy.
As if to torture me, he licks them nonchalantly before setting his cup back on the bar.
"Who says nothing would have come from it?" he asks, sitting forward in his seat. His hands fall between his legs, and his knuckles graze my thigh. Thankfully, they land where there's no exposed skin from the rips in the denim, or I would be a dripping mess.
"You're Drew Anderson, remember?"
He rolls his eyes aggressively. "I was Drew Anderson that night too."
"It's different."
"How?"
"Because we were hooking up in a hotel bathroom, not out in the real world."
He reaches up and brushes a stray hair behind my ear, catching me completely off guard. "Felt prettyrealto me."
Everything from my chest up radiates with heat. I clear my throat, trying my damnedest to act unaffected by his touch. "Drew, come on."
He leans back and shakes his head, his voice now just above a whisper. "Don't act like I'm crazy. You felt it too, I know you did."
My mind falls into a fit of chaos. He'snotcrazy, and neither am I. I knew from the second our eyes found each other that night that there was a weird chemistry between us. It's still here now—a magnetic pull that goes beyond our obvious physical attraction. But that doesn't change reality and the circumstances we're dealing with.
I swallow the lump in my throat and remain persistent. "You're literally famous, Drew."
