At least I knew how to stomach defeat—even if it tasted like sour milk—unlike Chadley Shadley Bradley over here.
It was time for this dickweed to hit the pavement.
Preferably chin first.
I swallowed a gulp of wine and tipped the glass toward Nessa. “Not bad, angel.”
I trailed my hand a little lower on her back, flirting dangerously with the hem of her top and the tattooed butterfly peeking out from beneath it. She’d probably give me shit for it later, but as far as I was concerned, Nessa Gibbs could punish me any day of the week.
“Thanks for keeping my girl company.”
“Your girl?” Douchebag Magee croaked.
“Oh, excuse me. You’re right. Mywoman.”
He swallowed nervously. Warm satisfaction cut through my body like liquid fire. It blossomed into a blazing inferno when Nessa leaned into my touch, her full breasts pressing into my side.
His eyes bounced between Nessa and me. “But you’re—”
I could already tell how this was going to go. I’d spent the better part of my teen years surrounded by fragile male egos and the first few years of my twenties deconstructing my own. The most dangerous kind of man, the one most prone to lash out, was a humiliated one. “And she’s, well—”
“Way out of my league?” I answered honestly. “A fucking goddess? Dude, I know it. Do you know how many months ofbegging it took me to even get her to agree to go out with me?” I shifted my attention to the goddess in question, the one I had spent more than a few sleepless nights thinking about and picturing as I came all over my hands. “What was it, Ness? Two months?”
She just sat there staring up at me, her mouth slightly ajar. For a second, I thought I might have pushed the charade a bit too far until—
“Three,” she said with a devious glint in her eyes. “Three months.”
My attention shifted south in time to see a bead of sweat pool between her cleavage.
What I wouldn’t give to follow that sweat all the way down—
“But it was worth the wait, right,honey muffin?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. Her eyes drifted down to my lips, just for a second, but it was enough to have my cock stiffening.
That was all it took—one smoldering glance—to knock me to my knees. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Not that I wouldn’t crawl to her. If Nessa wanted me on my knees, all she had to do was ask.
Don’t get your hopes up.
“That’s right,sugar puss,” I said, punctuating it with a wink.
Her emerald eyes sparkled with amusement. I’d never been one to back away from a challenge, and from the looks of it, neither had she. The game was still afoot, and Nessa was doing a damn fine job at playing it.
She straightened in her seat when I brushed my fingers beneath the hem of her top, scraping warm, freckled skin. When she flipped back toward our unwanted guest, the loose tendrils of her messy bun brushed against my chest, sending shivers down my spine. My knuckles tightened around the wineglass. It wouldn’t take much to knot my hand through her hair, to tug her head back until those luscious lips met mine.
The ones I knew would taste like strawberries.
“What was it?” the douchebag asked, breaking me out of my daydream.
“Hm?”
“What was it that finally made you change your mind about him?”
“Great question.” I was keen to hear the answer myself. “Angel?”
I lifted the glass of wine to my lips again, nearly choking on the robust red liquid when Nessa answered, “Oh, definitely his massive cock.”
I wasn’t sure what I had expected her to say, but it hadn’t been that. And clearly, I wasn’t the only one left sputtering my words.
The Patagonia frat douche jumped from his seat, his eyes wide as saucers. “Well, that’s, er, great. For . . . both of you, I suppose.” He pulled a crisp twenty from his wallet, practically throwing it at the bartender. “I should be going.”
