“Yep. First time for a lot of things, actually.”
Smooth, Alex. Real subtle.
He lifts a brow, clearly amused—and very much flirting.
“Mmm… well in that case, I’ll be sure to make your firstsverymemorable.”
He squeezes my thigh, and fireworks detonate throughout my entire damn body.
That Spanish accent is doing things to me I didn’t even know were possible. Add in those eyes—dark, magnetic, a little dangerous—and that ridiculously inviting smile, and—well… I’m done. Just put me in a cab and send me straight to gay town.
Fast-forward two hours and God knows how many bourbons later, I’m completely relaxed, still pressed beside him, and actually enjoying the hell out of his company.
I make a mental note to thank my sister for canceling on me tonight.
At some point during the evening—don’t ask when, because I’ve completely lost track of time—I’d angled my body toward his, slipping my leg comfortably between his thick thighs. His pants are stretched across an even thicker bulge, and how I manage to keep up with our conversation is miles beyond me. It’s a miracle really.
Everything about him is fascinating—and thick. His accent, his lips, fingers, thighs, even his motherfucking cock is thick.
Trust me on that one.
I lean in, closing the space between us, and rest my hand lightly on top of his.
My gaze drops to his mouth as he’s speaking—and I catch the exact moment his words falter.
His lips still.
His eyes flick to my lap, then slowly rise back to meet mine.
He slides his hand further up my leg—my own hand going along for the ride.
Swallowing my nerves, I thread my fingers through his.
“Have you lost your voice?” I murmur, teasing.
His gaze dips again to where our hands lie—dangerously close to my growing arousal.
“I think I’ve lost my mind,” he says on an exhale.
He’s not the only one.
I’d like to blame the alcohol for my sudden departure of defenses, but I’d be lying. The truth is, my guard started slipping the moment I laid eyes on Elijah.
If someone had asked my sexual orientation when I walked into this bar, I would’ve said—without hesitation—that I was straight.
And I was.
I mean…am.
Ugh.
But now?
The way my body is reacting to his touch, his voice, his goddamn broken English…
Yeah.
I am so fucking not straight.
