With a slight shake of his head, he moves closer. “No. I want to be right here.” He wraps an arm around my waist again and tugs me close, putting a long leg in between mine.
I grab onto his shoulders and let him take the lead as we dance provocatively on the dance floor. My chest grows tight with anticipation.
His eyes are bright, and his smile widens as if my reactions amuse him. Leaning in, his breath skates across the thin skin near my ear. “I want you to come home with me tonight.” A tiny gasp leaves my mouth, and he pulls back to smirk. “Just think about it. No pressure.”
After two more songs, we leave the dance floor panting and join Phoebe and Graham at the table. My wild heart thumps in nervous anticipation as Johnny’s heavy footsteps sound behind me. Palms slick with sweat, I slide into the booth next to Phoebe while Johnny takes an outside seat across from us.
Although the atmosphere is casual and alcohol dulls my senses, goosebumps pebble along my skin as Johnny scrutinizes me with an intense stare. It’s like he’s gauging my reaction to his proposition. A little smirk plays on his lips, and my first instinct is to wipe it away for assuming too much about me and what I plan to do.
Phoebe interrupts his silent probing with a loud slurp to her nearly empty drink. “Johnny, how are you? Sky said this place might be a little much for you since you’re thirty and this hotshot doctor.”
He slides his gaze from mine, and I blow out a breath. Maybe I’m nervous because it’s exactly what I want. His firm body over mine, his delicate fingers tracing up my spine and tangling in my hair.
August used to do that—no.
This is not the time to think about the many ways your ex knew your body intimately.
Johnny answers Phoebe, and it must be funny because she laughs.
Graham catches my eye and raises a brow to ask if I’m okay. I swallow and nod, reaching for my drink, sucking up the rest, my face puckering as the strong alcohol slides down my throat.
“I hear you two are in law school. Who are the hot shots now?” Johnny says before sipping his light beer with an elegant lift to his lips.
I suppose he is charming. Bet he could say whatever he wanted and at least half the girls in this bar would drop their panties for him.
So why am I being so resistant?
The three of them volley back and forth, discussing things that go over my head as I inhale the fries we ordered. It’s good they’re all getting along. This means if Johnny and I become a real thing, half the chore of introducing him to my close friends is over.
Johnny glances over at me as I stuff the last greasy fry into my mouth, a slight grimace overtaking his face. Before I can frown over his overt distaste for the delicious fried food I love, he holds out a smooth hand. “Do you want to dance some more?”
Phoebe nudges my side once I don’t immediately move. “Go. Graham and I will hang out here.” She wiggles her thick eyebrows. She’s so obvious in her meddling I almost laugh.
After I clean off the excess grease from my fingers, I take Johnny’s hand and let him scoop me from the booth and into his embrace, his arms encircling my waist, as he drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Here’s to hoping I can convince our girl here to give me a real shot.”
Phoebe winks, and Graham’s chuckle gets lost to the bar noise as Johnny whisks me back to the dance floor.
Several songs later, I’ve completely forgotten about everyone else around me—my thoughts on Johnny’s question. It’s what I wanted, right? Someone to make me feel and make me forget what happened. Maybe I should just jump in and quit being so scared of getting hurt. Johnny’s a good guy. Perhaps a little too confident, but he’s been nothing but honest about who he is from the beginning. And trusting someone is the most important thing to me.
A split-second decision—likely alcohol-fueled—is all it takes before I drag Johnny by the hand to an empty alcove near a back hallway. I push him to the wall and his brown eyes brighten right before I crash my lips to his. There’s a hint of whiskey on his breath and tongue as it plunges deep alongside mine.
“Fuck,” he says as I release him after a minute of full-on making out. “Does this mean yes?”
“Maybe.”
He quirks a brow, and I move to pounce on him again. I don’t know where this sense of urgency is coming from, but my skin buzzes, and my senses grow heightened as he squeezes my ass over my jeans when I’m flush with his hard body.
“Maybe this will convince you some more,” he says, his voice throaty.
In the dark corner, images race through my mind, and the arms currently banded around my waist morph into August’s. It’s his breath on my forehead, his scent in my nose, and his warmth at my front.
With a sharp inhale, I stumble back and slam my eyes shut.
It’s not August. It’s Johnny, and he’s the one you want. He’s the one making you live and experience a life you never would’ve known.
A hand cups my cheek, and a thumb presses against my lips. I blink my eyes open and it’s Johnny’s sparkling ones that greet me. Surging up, I capture his mouth again, flinging my arms around his neck.
This is right. Right? It feels right. I think. He’s a great kisser. And he’s mostly nice and smart and?—