“I figured you weren’t into anything that tastes like rubbing alcohol.”
“You would be correct. I’m not a big drinker,” I admit.
“We can leave them for the rest of the group. Do you want something else?”
I consider it but shake my head as I lift the glass in the air. “When in Vegas.”
He picks up another shot glass and holds it up to mine. “When in Vegas.”
One shot is followed by two more. When we head back out to the dance floor, my body is warm and my head feels light.
“You really don’t have to keep hanging out with me,” I shout over the music.
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
I try to laugh off the compliment, but his dark eyes bore into mine. He hasn’t given me any reason to think he’s not enjoying hanging out, but I don’t want him to feel obligated either.
“Seriously? You think I’d rather be talking to someone else?”
I shrug one shoulder.
He blows out a small laugh. “You have no idea how sexy you are.”
“It’s the dress.” It’s one of Kinsley’s because she claimed I didn’t pack anything worthy of Vegas.
“No.” His usual cocky smirk is absent as he raises one hand, letting the backs of his fingers brush along my jaw as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s you.”
I’ve been called a lot of things: cute, pretty, hot even. On a rare occasion I’ve even gotten beautiful or gorgeous. But sexy? Never. I think it’s the sporty vibe I generally give off—hair in a ponytail, leotard or some other type of spandex, sneakers, etc.
“The first time I saw you…” He smiles and then starts again because the first time he saw me he thought I was a teenager breaking and entering. “The second time I saw you, I couldn’t believe anyone so sexy existed. I was so stunned. I called Ruby and asked her if she believed in love at first sight. I felt like I’d been thrown into the boards on the ice.”
My stomach feels like I did a tumbling pass without warming up. I so badly want to blow off what he’s saying as exaggerated flirty banter, but something about his expression won’t let me.
I think back to that day. I was wearing a blue leotard and black shorts, and my hair was thrown up in a haphazard ponytail on top of my head. Decidedly, not sexy. And yet, I don’t get the feeling he’s feeding me a line.
I remember what he was wearing that day too. Red athletic shorts and a threadbare T-shirt. His dark hair was messier than it is now but he’s not the kind of guy who needs a button-down shirt and hair gel to make a girl a little weak in the knees.
I consider telling him that, to even the playing field, and then decide to show him instead. I lift onto my toes, bringing my mouth up to his—so close that I can feel the heat of his breath and smell the sweet scent from the shots earlier. Travis stills, gaze dropping to my lips. He makes a small sound deep in his throat that shouldn’t be audible over the noise in the club, but it’s like we’re in our own soundproof bubble. Everything else feels far away. It’s me and him and him and me. And our lips are so close. A half inch, maybe less, and I’ll be kissing Travis Bennett. He’ll be good at it, too. Of that much I’m certain.
Oh god. I’m really going to do this. My throat suddenly goes dry and there’s a faint throb between my thighs. I’d blame my body’s response on the alcohol, but I don’t think that’s it. He’s hot as hell. Sexy. Just like he claimed I was. To be honest I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that. And yet, I feel different when he looks at me like he’s doing right now.
I would pay a lot of money, if I had it, to know exactly what he’s thinking. While we’re still in a stare-off, someone bumps into me from behind. I catch my balance by dropping my hands to his hard chest. His hands come up to cover mine and he looks over my head to glare at whoever is behind me. Without those dark eyes on me, the rush of the music and everything else comes back all at once. Blinking, I look away from him.
“Are you okay?” Travis’s deep voice skates over my skin and with it a rush of panic. What the hell am I doing?
“Hannah?”
“Sorry.” I drop back onto my heels. A wave of dizziness washes over me. I need air and space. I mutter out another apology as I turn and flee from the dance floor. It’s jam-packed but I’m small enough to squeeze through gaps between couples and groups.
I’m not sure where I’m going until I see the hallway leading toward the bathrooms. As soon as I get there, I stop and press my back onto the cool, brick wall. I let my head tip back and inhale.
My thoughts are a jumble, and my emotions are bouncing around so fast I can’t make sense of anything. Except maybe the smallest twinge of regret. The way he said my name replays in my head. Low and gruff. Concerned, I think. Why does even his voice have to be so sexy?
Over and over again, I hear him calling for me.
“Hannah?” Travis steps in front of me. His head dips low so he can look directly into my eyes. He places one hand on the wall beside my head as he angles himself to let people pass by. “Are you all right?”
“I...” My mouth hangs open as I grapple with an answer for him.
