“How in thehellare you still standing right now?” I ask.
“A magician never reveals her secrets,” she jokes, winking at me before leaning in closer. “But, if you must know…” she says, her warm breath on my ear sending shivers over my body. I nod. “Smell this,” she says, holding the plastic cup of the Coke she was using as a chaser up to my nose. I breathe in and the unexpected smell of liquor burns my nostrils. I lean away, laughing.
“You little cheater!” I whisper. She shrugs, a small smile growing across her mouth. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
“I’ve had a few, but I don’t have any intention of getting drunk tonight,” she says, stretching in front of me and dumping the contents of her cup down the sink on the other side of the counter. I try to ignore the way her body is stretched out before me, her shirt riding up her torso, showing a peek of the soft skin I’m still desperate to touch.
“Why not?”
“Because drunk Tyler is a little slut, and while I may be contractually obligated to behave myself around you, I know I can’t trust her.” I laugh, trying to ignore the images of Tyler and me that are currently flashing through my mind as she cracks open another can of Coke and pours it into her cup before sitting down beside me. I wonder if I’ll ever get to have her like that again—completely uninhibited and at my mercy.
“Is this what it used to be like?” she asks, nodding to the chaos unfolding around us. Most of our road crew joined us after loadout, so it’s now a full-blown party. “Back in the day, I mean. Partying all night before moving on to the next show?”
“Sometimes,” I say. “Usually only if we had a few days off in between stops. We learned pretty quickly that you don’t want to get fucked up and then play a show the next day. All that noise is far less fun when you’re nursing a hangover.”
She snorts a laugh, and the sound makes me smile.
“Come on,” she says, hopping down off her stool. “The table’s open. Come play soda pong with me.”
“Soda pong?” I ask.
“Well, you don’t drink, and I want to kick your ass at beer pong, so let’s meet in the middle.” I laugh and stand, leaning in close.
“You do understand that I basically did this professionally?”
“One,” she says holding up a finger between us. “You just admitted you didn’t party hard, and two,” she holds up another finger. “I was in a sorority. I majored in beer pong.”
“You majored in English writing,” I say, and she stills.
“You…remember what my major was?” she asks.
“Of course I remember what your majorwas.”
She swallows hard like she’s nervous, but then collects herself, her newfound confidence returning.
“Fine, Mr. Know-It-All, Iminoredin beer pong.”
I raise a brow.
“Care to make it interesting then?” I ask. She flashes a devious grin in my direction and crosses her arms over her chest, ready for whatever I throw at her. Or so she thinks.
“If I win,” I say, leaning in close and lowering my voice. “I get to kiss you.”
“What?” she asks, leaning back a bit to look up at me, her eyes wide in surprise.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about the way you kiss since the night we met,” I admit. “I’m dying to kiss you again.”
She swallows hard, my eyes tracking the way the muscles in her throat flex with the movement, my fingers itching to wrap around it again.
“Fine,” she agrees, and my heart jolts with excitement. “You win; you getonekiss. But if I win, you don’t mention our night together again.” Now it’s my turn to pull back.
“I mean it,” she says. “I don’t know why you keep doing it—if that night was all some big joke to you or what—but it’s driving me crazy. You brought me here to do a job and I need to focus, and constantly thinking about…that…isn’t helping.”
“Constantly thinking about it, huh?” I tease, cocking my head to the side and grinning. Her cheeks flush and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before looking away. I have to curl my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to pull her lip from her teeth and claim that perfect fucking mouth with mine.
She looks back up into my eyes, I nod my agreement to our little bet, and we make our way to the makeshift pongtable in the center of the living room. Everyone goes silent and turns their attention to us as we get set up.
“Oh shit,” Josh says, elbowing Kevin in the side to get his attention. “T, I love you and everything, but you’re going to get your ass handed to you. Eric Ambrose is more than just the king of pussy and percussion.”
