Page 353 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“Look, we aren’t doing anything wrong by standing here talking. I’m not undressing you in the middle of a room full of people, so you have nothing to worry about.”

The mention of him undressing me has my body heating in a way it hasn’t in months. I need to walk away now before I’m tempted to ask him to actually do it.

“Alright, I’ll have a drink with you,” I say, although I have no intention of hanging around for that drink. With a nod, he heads to the bar to get us drinks.

As soon as Hendrix reaches the bar closest to us, I make my way to the smaller bar on the opposite side of the room.

“Gin and tonic, heavy on the gin and forget the tonic, please.” Turning, I watch to see that Hendrix is still waiting at the other bar while looking around the room.

Facing the bar again, I grab my drink and then make my way through the groups of people talking, heading out the ballroom door and into the hallway. Knowing if I stand in the hallway, it won’t be long before someone discovers me, I open the first door I see and step inside.

“Because this won’t look pathetic,” I mumble as I slip off my heels and hop up onto the bathroom counter. There are few things more embarrassing than being that guest, the one who gets shitfaced in the bathroom during the rehearsal dinner while hiding from everyone else. Although, I guess in order to get that drunk, I’m going to need a lot more than a couple glasses of gin.

“Are we hiding from someone, or are we getting sloppy drunk in the bathroom?”

Damn it, he’s fast. “I thought I lost you,” I snap, not caring that I sound like a bitch. I keep my eyes focused above his shoulder. This man is too damn sexy for his own good. I’m afraid if I look him in the eye I’ll turn into a puddle of goo and slip right off the counter.

“Not a chance. And it’s a good thing too because I come bearing gifts.” I can’t stop the smile that tips up my lips at the two bottles of champagne he clearly stole from the party.

“Do I have to share with you?” I ask, half joking. Because if I’m being honest, I could drink both of those on my own.

“Well, I was thinking a bottle for each of us, but if we only open one at a time it won’t seem so bad tomorrow when we wake up full of regrets.” The laughter in his voice causes a ball of nerves to form low in my belly. There is no logical reason for me to be attracted to this man. He is everything I should be avoiding, and yet I want nothing more than to chase the regrets with him.

“Good point. And since I’m not one for regrets, I’ll take my own bottle.” I tip my glass back, downing the contents in one final swallow. “Pop the cork.”

I watch in slight shock, and full of nerves, as his hand closes the distance between us. I watch his long fingers wrap around the glass and pluck it from my own.

“The way I see it, pouring the champagne from the bottle to the glass is an unnecessary step, not to mention it delays the satisfaction of chasing our buzz. You see, if we pour it into the glass, then we have to wait for the foam to die down before we drink it, that takes what, thirty seconds give or take.”

I nod, because, to my slightly tipsy brain, this makes sense. Also, I’m afraid of how breathy my voice will sound if I actually were to speak.

“So, with those thirty seconds after each pour, we lose about five minutes of solid drinking time.”

I nod again, because, really, he’s thoroughly thought this out. “If I hadn’t decided to give up on men, I would be so turned on by your math skills right now.”

Hendrix tips his head back, and the laughter that fills the space is deep and loud. It’s a sound I shouldn’t want to hear again, and yet the urge to make him laugh again is almost impossible to ignore.

“Pop the cork, Hendrix.” I tip my head toward the champagne in his hand.

“That’s my girl.”

That’s my girl. Why does everything he says have to sound so seductive? I want nothing more right now than to hear him whisper those words while he’s moving inside me.

“I’m not anyone’s girl,” I tell him, trying to remind myself that I can’t want those kinds of things right now, especially not with someone like Hendrix Hunter. “But I do promise not to be mean to you anymore tonight since you brought booze with you.”

“Good enough for me.” I watch as the cork from the first bottle bounces off the counter and hits the floor, followed quickly by the second.

Two

HENDRIX

I sit on the counter on the opposite side of the bathroom from Harlow, my eyes slowly taking her in. Everything about her, from her dark-chocolate hair to her green eyes, down to her perfect body, one that I want to bend and manipulate, bringing us both pleasure.

I shouldn’t be thinking these things. I shouldn’t be sitting here in this bathroom with her, not with my career on the line, yet I can’t think of another place I would rather be. Just for tonight, I can give in to what I want and then tomorrow I can go back to being on the straight and narrow. I just need tonight to find out what being with Harlow will feel like.

I watch, my lips tipping up in a smile, as Harlow tilts the bottle of champagne up, drinking straight from it. She should look ridiculous, her small hands clutched around the widest part of the bottle, yet she looks beautiful. And my mind fills with images of her delicate fingers wrapped around something else.

I slide back a little farther on the counter, pulling up my leg and resting my foot on the edge.

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