Page 96 of South Beach Bodyguards

He looked away. “Not since I was eighteen. I’m more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.”

Well, this should be a complete and utter disaster then. But I didn’t care. I was stupid and drunk and wildly attracted to Wester and I just didn’t give a shit. “These are the rules of play. You want in the game or not?”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m in. I’ll all in. And I play to win.”

I spun on my heel. It would have been a great move except for the fact that I wobbled a little bit. “Then I’ll see you on Friday when you have an epic first date planned for me.”

When I glanced back at him I briefly saw panic before he schooled his features. “Excellent. I’ll see you Friday.”

Just before I went back into the club I said, “And no changing your mind if you wake up sober tomorrow and realize this is a bad idea.”

“Same for you.”

“Unfortunately for you, I never change my mind, especially when it’s a bad idea. It’s my character flaw.”

“Then I would say we’re a perfect fit, because I’m the same way.” He gave me a smile. “And there are no good or bad ideas. Just experiences.”

He’d said that to me the night we’d met, on Ricardo’s patio. Not even forty-eight hours ago, but it felt like a million years. “I think that’s called justification.”

“Don’t overthink it. Text me when you’re home safe.”

I wasn’t going to overthink at all. I was going to dive witlessly into what was sure to be a full-on disaster, but I was going to wring every second of pleasure that I could from it in the meantime. “See, that’s on point. Much more normal guy-girl than you stalking me.”

“Oh, I’m still going to do that too. You’re getting the full package.”

Fabulous. “I’m already had the full package from you. It’s almost more than I can handle.” Yeah, I was drunk. Otherwise I never would have said that out loud.

His eyes narrowed. “Go inside the club, Olivia, before I break all your rules and take you home.”

I ran inside, afraid that if anything was going to break, it was going to be my heart.

eleven

I woke up with a raging hard-on and a hangover. Both my heads were aching. Not pleasant at all. I was an idiot. Not only had I gotten drunk, I had asked Olivia out on a date, in a very awkward way. I’d had zero game. Less than zero.

When I sat up I groaned. “Fuck.” I was supposed to go see my mother and take her to the movies. I would be keeping it classy, as usual. Groping around for my phone, I knocked over the bag of chips I had decided to destroy the night before when I’d gotten home. Crumbs fell all over my carpet but I ignored them. I had bigger problems.

Olivia had texted me when she got home. It had woken me up and I had responded to her. But now I was debating if I should text her or not. Was that a thing? Was I supposed to do that? Talk to her before Friday? I had no fucking clue. When Rachel and I had been together we’d been teenagers. I hadn’t even had a smart phone because I couldn’t afford one. I had a flip phone that was hell to text on, so I kept it simple. If I texted women now it was utilitarian or blatantly sexual. I didn’t know how to be normal.

Being normal made me uncomfortable. As I padded to the shower I decided there was a reason I’d been avoiding entanglements—it sucked. But I was the dumbass who had opened my drunken mouth and now I couldn’t back out. I didn’t actually want to anyway. My dick certainly didn’t want me too. My erection wouldn’t quit.

Leaning against the shower wall, letting the hot spray cut through the hangover, I pictured Olivia in the shower with me, then cursed myself. That was not going to help my boner go away. But once the idea of her, slick and wet and pink, popped into my head, I couldn’t quit it. She was so hot and sexy, and now she was denying me. I had to manage four dates before I could taste her again? Talk about sliding backward.

She left me no choice but to take care of business myself, hand on my cock, wishing it were her mouth. Given how mouthy she was in general, she had to be awesome at blow jobs. I squeezed one last time before letting go, deciding to extend the torture and my blue balls.

After I was dressed, I called Alejandro. “Hey. When you meet a girl and you ask her out, are you supposed to text her or anything in the meantime? And after the first date, how soon do you ask her out for a second date?”

“What the actual fuck, Lewiston. Are you screwing with me?”

I made instant coffee and put it in the microwave. “No. I’m serious. Make fun of me all you want, but I need help. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Who did you ask out?”

“Olivia, Eva Davis’s twin sister. Ricardo’s sister-in-law.”

Alejandro whistled low into the phone. “No shit? Is she rich, too?”

“No. She’s a student at the University of Miami.” I pulled the mug back out of the microwave and took a sip.

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