She storms past me and wrenches my door open before disappearing down the stairs.
“We’ll just see about that,” I mumble to the empty room as the door slams in her wake.
THE FUCKING NERVE.
My lips burn and I can feel the wetness between my legs with each step that pulls my underwear against my bare sex.
My core throbs with the climax I had in his arms from that kiss alone.
I should feel terrible that I just came apart in a man’s arms who didn’t belong to my boyfriend, but I don’t. That could be because my mind had already put Levi in the ex category, the actual breakup just being a formality.
The crowd seems to part as I push through the room and back to where the girls are still drinking and laughing as if Nate hadn’t just carted me off over his shoulder.
How embarrassing.
Not a word is spoken as I snatch my purse from the table and reach in to grab some cash before spinning on my heels and making quick work of getting to the bar.
I don’t look around, too afraid of what I’ll see on the faces I pass. My eyes go up to the black glass above me, and I know without being able to see him that those eyes are tracking my every move.
“What’ll it be, babe,” I hear, bringing my focus away from the wall of windows.
Babe.
I’m so sick of people calling me babe. I feel like that word alone is going to drive me to the edge of sanity.
“I don’t care. Just make it strong,” I yell, slapping the bill down on the bar.
The shirtless man just nods as he turns around to grab one of the bottles of liquor behind him and a shot glass. He slides it forward, but when I push the money toward him, he shakes his head and walks away.
With a shrug, I lift the cool glass to my lips and take it down with one swallow. My eyes sting as the liquid burns down my throat and into my belly. I blink a few times to clear my vision as I slam the glass down and wave the same man over.
This time, he takes my money, and I wave him off when he goes to get change. I shoot the drink back before pointing at the glass again, silently demanding another.
He leans against the bar and just tips the bottle over the glass again.
Three more shots and no more cash, I’m finally able to handle the burn without wanting to gag.
Of course, that would be when I open my eyes expecting to see my new best friend the bartender’s brown eyes, but instead, I see the emerald fury of Nate Reid.
Maybe it’s the shots or maybe it’s just the hold he’s always had on me, but I don’t move. Not even when I see him moving his arms as my old friend, brown-eyed bartender, hands him a cup and a few bottles. He does something with them, but I couldn’t tell you what because my eyes never leave his face.
When a body collides with mine from behind, pushing me against the bar painfully, the trance he had me stuck in is broken, and I look away to watch some drunken man stumble after a group of girls. Before I look back at Nate, I peek over at the table our group of girls is occupying. Gazes locked on us, they all wear expressions with slack jaws.
Well, everyone except Nikki. She looks like she just discovered Santa was real and won the lotto in the same sweep.
I feel something cold hit the hand I have resting on the bar, and I turn back around, glancing down to where Nate is pushing a drink into my hand. I look at the colorful drink instead of the man pushing it toward me. He’s swirling the drink around with a stick, mixing the colors inside the glass for a second before he pulls his hand up. I watch as the stick becomes a lollipop, then follow its path up until Nate’s smirking lips open to suck the candy in his mouth once before popping it out and dropping it back down into my glass.
My gaze doesn’t look at the drink this time, nope … no sir, this time, I study his mouth as his tongue dips out and wets those thick lips that had me coming undone just minutes ago. I feel my breath pull in a choppy inhale and look up to meet his eyes. I’m not sure what to make of the expression on his face, and if I’m honest, fear and self-preservation are what keeps me from trying to figure it out.