“To friendship and close neighbors.” He winks at me before downing his shot.
I tip mine over my lips, letting the liquor burn down my throat.
“I wanna try the hurricane shot! Sam told me about it. Can we get a tutorial?” Dolly squeals, handing me another shot glass.
Rosie rolls her eyes, and Monroe wriggles her eyebrows.
“Oh, we already tried it. I might’ve messed it up, so please show us!”
“Yes, please, so I can stop hearing about it and do it for my husband,” Rosie says, smirking.
All the guys look around guiltily, except for Duke. He stands up and grabs an empty glass on the bar that’s set up for a bartender to come make more drinks.
My throat constricts. I look around, hoping to find someone else I could do it on besides Duke. It wasway too intimate last time, and now I know what he sounds like when he comes.
I take a step toward the neighboring VIP booth with a group of men in crisp white shirts and nice suits. Surely, one of them would be willing to let me do a demonstration on him.
“Okay, let me see if I can find a willing victim.”
“No need. I’m willing.” Duke is pouring a glass of water from a water pitcher.
My chest tightens. I lick my chapped lips, looking up at him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He drags a chair over to the bar and takes a seat.
I take a step closer, gnawing on my lower lip as my panic rises. He pats the bar top in front of him. This bar is higher than the one at Lucky’s Pub, and the chair is shorter than the barstools there. If I sit on it, even with how tall Duke is, my crotch will be less than a foot from his face while he’s in that chair.
“I’ve been dying to see this!” Monroe cheers me on, seeming to realize I need some encouragement.
Since he’s already sitting down, the only way I can get up on the bar top without flashing the entire crowd is to step on his leg. His face is almost level with mine when he’s sitting down. I place my boot on his thigh, and he grabs my hand to steady me as I lift myself up and plant my butt on the bar top.
When I look down at him, his eyes are respectfully not sliding up my thighs to sneak a peek at where I’m sure my underwear is visible. He removes his cowboy hat, placing iton the bar beside me. I grab the tequila shot, looking up at the girls.
“It’s pretty simple. You spit the liquor into his mouth, splash him with water, then slap the shit out of him.”
Rosie snickers, leaning forward. The whole group is tuned in, ready to take notes. I guess class is in session. I tip the shot glass over my lips and hold it in my mouth. My fingers find his jawline, pulling him toward me. I get close enough that my lips are less than an inch from his mouth and spit it out into his. His eyes hold mind the entire time.
I lick my lips before grabbing the water. I splash his face with it and rear my hand back to slap him—hard. His head jerks to the side. I hear a collective gasp from the onlookers and the group in the VIP next to ours. I swallow, wondering if I hit him too hard.
He slowly turns back to face me, blue eyes blazing. He rises to a standing position, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me toward him. His lips crash against mine. He tastes like tequila and lime and bad decisions. I instantly melt into him, grabbing the front of his shirt with both hands. He groans, his other hand squeezing the top of my thigh.
“Damn,” I hear one of the guys say.
Duke is kissing me like I’m not the damaged single mom who doesn’t even have my own place to live and more baby-daddy drama than a reality housewives show.
I whimper when he lightly squeezes my neck. My tongue brushes against his lips, drawing a male groan from the back of his throat. I’m completely lost in this kiss, and it feels more intimate than the first one we shared in his truck that was all heatand passion.
This kiss is like a conversation between us. It’s him telling me that he’s been thinking about that kiss all this time, that we’ve both been waiting for the chance to repeat it.
Finally, we break apart. We’re both panting when he looks into my eyes and gently brushes a blond curl behind my ear.
“You’re not allowed to give those out at work anymore.”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”
17
DUKE
