He shifts in his seat, just enough that my lips graze his neck from the motion. I’m frozen. I want to move, but I can’t.
Instinctively I lick my lips, the prominent taste of his sweat on my tongue sending a shiver directly to my cock.
No, Alex. Bad Alex.
“I can do more than stand,” Mack says as he gets up, nearly knocking the chair over. To his credit, he stands without falling over, and I’m impressed. But then he takes one step forward and loses his balance. I catch him easily, my hands braced against his chest.
“Standing like the leaning tower of Pizza.”
“What?” he bites out.
“Nothing,” I say with a laugh as I right him. “I think the boys are calling it a night. Maybe we should too.”
Mack scoffs. “Pussies.”
I can’t help but laugh as he shoots me a hazy glare.
“You’re not pussying out on me, are you, Alex?” he asks with a lazy smile.
My hands stay on his chest, my palms heating where they touch his warm body.
“No,” I tell him with a smile. “But maybe we should get something to eat or we’ll end up like Hudson,” I say with a chuckle.
Mack laughs. He fuckinglaughs.It’s dark and smooth and makes my insides warm.
I drop my hands, nodding for him to follow me. He starts off okay, but after a few steps, I settle my arm around him. He tries to push me off, but I don’t budge. I take harder hits on the ice, honestly. Maybe if he was sober, it would be a fair fight, but right now? Right now, his body’s like wobbly Jell-O.
“You’ll thank me later,” I tell him with a chuckle. “When your face is intact.”
“Fuck you. There’s nothing wrong with my face.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way.” I guide us out of the club into the crisp night air.
“How about tacos?” I ask as I lead us down the strip.
The food carts are still hot and steaming and there’s a line for every one. One glance at my watch tells me it’s nearing two. This city really doesn’t sleep, and I love it.
“I hate tacos,” Mack says, shaking his head.
“What the fuck are you, an alien? No one hates tacos,” I bite out.
“It’s half rabbit food. Fuck all that mess.” Even though he’s starting to walk a little better, I don’t trust him on his own. I feel like if I let him go, he’ll take a nosedive, and I do not want to fuck up Austen’s wedding photos with a bandaged up Mack.
“Fuck you,” he mutters, but there’s no bitterness in his voice.
“What do you want then, sweetheart?” I tease. “I’m buying.”
Mack shifts against me, letting out a grunt.
“Anything but fucking tacos, that's for sure. Least not from the strip.”
“Bella’s has the best tacos,” I say nonchalantly. “And nachos.”
I spot a food cart with gourmet potatoes and fries. Before I can ask, he grumbles, “That. Totally fucking that. Fuck yes.”
I look where his gaze is fixed. A pickle cart. With giant, whole pickles in what looks like every flavor. I can smell the vinegar from here. I can’t help but laugh, because it’s just… yeah, of course he’d pick the phallic-looking delicacy on a stick. The universe really does love to fuck me over and over.
“Oh, Jordan, maybe there is hope after all for you.” He curses me again. “Wait here,” I say as I head over to the cart.
