Standing from my spot, I give my friend a brotherly slap on the shoulder and head over to the jukebox and look for another song. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Ah, “Rump Shaker,” by Wreckx-n-Effect. A classic, I snicker to myself.
As the recognizable notes of the song begin and people in the bar start to hoot and holler, I make my way over to Quinn. Sliding in behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her trim body against me, willing my dick to behave.
Callie gives me a slow grin as she continues to dance.
Nudging Quinn’s ear with my nose, I whisper so she knows it’s me. “Hey, short stuff.” Placing my hands on her hips, I encourage her to sway in time with the beat of the music. If nothing else, so I don’t lose an eye.
She spins to face me, and I continue to hold her close, my hands on her hips. She doesn’t appear intoxicated. Glancing over at their table, several cocktails appear untouched. Quinn places her palms on my pecs, both her undeniable fragrance and her nearness making my pants grow snug.
I bend my face down to meet hers and have to stifle a laugh when she closes her eyes and puckers her lips. As tempting as that is, I’m not doing that here. I whisper against her mouth, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Quinn blinks her eyes rapidly, looking confused.
“I’ll be your Mr. December.”
Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, before gazing up at me with a dreamy expression.
Hell, I probably look the same way.
Unable to control myself, I pull her tighter against me, allowing her to feel exactly what she’s doing to me. Her gray eyes turn dark and stormy the moment she’s aware how hard I am. And it’s all for her.
“I should drive you and Callie home. I haven’t even had two beers, and you two…” I point at their table, and Quinn giggles.
“We’re not drunk, but we won’t turn down a ride.”
After settling up with the bartender I wrap my arm around Quinn, and lead her and Callie to the door when I notice a familiar male silently observing us from a corner booth.
Ian.
Chapter 17
Quinn
Arriving at the station, I’m a nervous wreck. It’s the last photoshoot, and while Jason agreed to participate, I can’t help but worry he’ll become a hostile subject.
“Hey, Holly. You got everything ready to go?”
“Yes. I can’t believe it’s the last one. He’s getting ready, but we should be all set in a few minutes.”
Looking over Holly’s shoulder, I find Jason standing in his turnout pants, red suspenders over his bare bronze shoulders as a makeup artist applies oil to his delicious six pack.
“How do I get that job?” Callie whispers from behind me.
I giggle. “I know, right? Thank you for coming.”
“Figured you might need the moral support. But after the dreamy way he was looking at you at the Diddled Fiddle, I knew he’d hold up his end of the deal.”
Holly moves to take her place, her large black camera around her neck, just as “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred starts blaring through Layton’s blue tooth speakers. The guys are all in attendance, cheering Jason on from the sidelines.
He takes it all in stride, posing like a pro. He climbs onto the engine, looks down at Holly from the ladder, and even allows her to obtain a shot wearing a Santa hat. It isn’t until the song stops, and Holly is reviewing the pictures through her lens, that I notice how many passersby have stopped to watch. Several women who look like they just left a bible study fan themselves while others giggle with rosy cheeks and hungry eyes.
I get it. My mind is going all sorts of places it shouldn’t.
Jason approaches and leans close to my ear. “Is that what you wanted, Miss Patterson?” his voice seeming even more deep and gravely than usual, and goosebumps dot my flesh in response.
I have to bite my lower lip to keep from moaning an indecent reply.
“Hey. What’re you doing tonight?”
