“Tonight, you drink what I order you.”
It took a second for the request to process, but once it did, there was no stopping the boom of surprised laughter that busted out of my chest.
“Deal.”
Maybe the Tin Man had a heart after all.
For the next two hours, we traded stories about friends and careers—all off the record, of course—while sipping our way through the bar’s cocktail menu. I’d already known that Brock was an easy guy to talk to, but this was the first time we weren’t “on the clock,” so to speak. This was therealhim—the K-pop obsessed, vegan-ish introvert with an unpretentious sort of charm that could make the Pope spill his secrets after only a few drinks.
Tyra and Beau took turns calling out numbers, and before we knew it, the game had ended. Not that either of us had been paying much attention to begin with; we were too caught up in each other . . . and the god-awful mojitos Brock had ordered us.
“Dude, I’ve officially reached my limit,” I told him. “I draw my line at pomegranate.”
“I watched you inhale deep-fried butter today. You can stomach a pomegranate mojito.”
Just then, a shadow—one with larger-than-life hair and Barbie-like curves—fell over our table. “Well, well, well,” she said, her Southern dialect rivaling Matty’s. “What do we have here?”
I pivoted in my seat to face the blonde bombshell.
“Good to meet you, Beau. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“It’s Miss Toxx, actually.”Beau Toxx, nice.“Only my friends call me Beau.”
“How about friends of friends?” I asked, wagging my brows.
Her gaze volleyed back and forth between us before eventually landing on the man seated next to me. “Is that what’s going on here? Is this yourfriend?”
Beau said it like it was a dirty word. Nonetheless, I was dying to hear Brock’s answer.
“Yeah,” Brock replied, flipping his hair over his shoulder like he was the star of a goddamn rom-com movie. “I guess he is.”
I smiled like an idiot. I also didn’t miss the way Brock’s thigh nudged mine when he made room for Beau to join us at the table. Or, more importantly, the fact that neither of us attempted to put more space between us. Any closer and he would be sitting on my lap, exactly where I wanted him.
We spent another forty minutes talking with Beau until eventually, the bartender told us it was time for them to close. Beau and Tyra stuck around to clean up, leaving Brock and me on our own, in a parking lot, for the second time today.
“Well,” I started, scrubbing a hand through my hair. “This was a lot of fun. Thanks for . . . not inviting me.”
He snorted. “You’re welcome. Thanks for . . . showing up uninvited.”
“That’s what I do best.”
This was the moment I had been both looking forward to and dreading all evening. I had finally worked up the nerve to say something, and now here I was, on the precipice, teetering and about to fall.
I tried to think of some clever reply, a witty quip, a sly remark, but the only thing I could come up with was,Fuck it.What did I have to lose? You know, aside from my career, reputation, and dignity.
I leaned in and kissed him.
It was quick and messy, nothing more than my lips pressed to his for three, maybe four seconds. But just as I pulled away, his lips chased mine, diving deep and demanding more.
Little did he know, I was more than willing to give him everything.
“This is a bad idea,” he rasped between kisses.
His words said one thing, but his body told a different story—one full of unbridled hunger and desire. Need coursed through me thicker than blood when his hands circled my waist, pulling me tighter against him until my cock brushed against his stomach.
I threaded my fingers through his luscious locks and tugged, tilting his head back until his eyes, clouded with lust, met mine.
“Nothing bad feels this good.”
