Page 65 of Strike Zone

Seeing her in a pair of hip hugging Wranglers? It has my blood going south. Damn, she looks fucking hot right now. It’s going to take all my willpower to keep my hands off of her.

Charlie leans over to whisper something in her ear. Wren’s eyes catch on mine. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks.

I stumble from my chair. Smooth. Real smooth. Koa snickers behind me. I don’t even realize I’m walking in her direction until I’m standing in front of her.

She’s not wearing her glasses. Suddenly I can’t see anything beyond her blue eyes. I’ve always liked looking at them behind her glasses. I know her that way. I like her that way. But to see her eyes unobscured in their natural state is more breathtaking than a night sky full of starlight.

I wave a hand in front of her face. “Can you see me?” I ask, more to distract her from the fact I can’t stop staring at her. Saying something dumb keeps me from telling her how beautiful she looks. “Last time you didn’t have your glasses on you were walking around your dorm like a mummy.”

She slaps my hand out of her face. I maneuver our hands until our fingers are laced together. Wren inhales a slow breath. “It’s called wearing contacts. I can see just fine.” Her eyes roam over my face, down my neck and chest.

“You look good,” I say close to her ear so she can hear me. I rub my nose against her hairline and enjoy the smell of her shampoo. She shivers—it’s so slight that if I wasn’t attuned to her body, I wouldn’t have noticed it.

“You look…the same. Nice hat.” It doesn’t sound like a compliment but if you are knowledgeable in Wrenguistics, you would know it translates into you look good too. You always look good.

“My best friend got it for me.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you.”

“Someone needed to save you from yourself. Is that for me?” She lifts her chin toward the table.

“It is. Come on.” I tug her hand. “Charlie, what do you want to drink?”

“I’m going to go to the bar and find Lauren and Sydney,” she says, grinning at Wren.

“I’ll go with you.” Koa greets Wren and says his goodbye in one swoop.

“You really know how to clear the room,” I say, taking my seat.

“It’s a specialty of mine.” Wren’s eyes dart around the bar as she sips her drink.

There’s nothing fancy about Ray’s. The bar is a horseshoe in the back of the building. The main attraction is the large dance floor in the middle of the room with flashing neon lights strobing all over the interior. None of the tables and chairs match and the floors are sticky. But the music’s loud and the beers are cheap.

“So,” she draws out. “Now that you have me here. What are you going to do with me?”

I lift my hat off my head and scrub my hair. It’s a tactical move I’ve used once before on her. I need the diversion to give me time to rid myself of all the ideas that just flooded my brain.

What do I want to do with you? Where do I fucking begin?

While Wren is busy watching my biceps flex, I’m trying to figure out a way to get my blood to start circulating properly again.

“You said this would be fun. When does that begin exactly?”

The tempo of the music changes picking up to a nice dance beat. People are already lining up on the dance floor. “Right now. Down the rest of your drink.” I chug my beer and wait for Wren to catch up. It only takes her a few long sips to suck down every drop of her mixed drink. It’s a pretty sight seeing her lips wrap around the straw.

She’s wearing her cherry red lipstick again. I have to close my eyes and picture my grandma in her bathing suit. Grandma Alice is a pretty lady but the image of her in her floral swimming skirt is a bucket of cold water washing away any thought of Wren sucking on my cock instead of that straw.

"Come with me and follow my lead.”

“Where?” she asks, looking around the bar. “You can’t be serious,” she says, as I drag her on the dance floor. She crosses her arms as people rock stop and slide around her.

“Heel, toe, do-si-do, birdie,” I joke, as I attempt to follow the moves of the person line dancing in front of me. I’m completely lost. I spin left when I should be going right. I grapevine into the girl next to me. She doesn’t seem to mind as her eyes rake over my body.

“Need me to teach you a few steps, handsome?” the girl asks.

“He’s good,” Wren cuts in, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her chest. This isn’t the first time she’s acted possessive over me. I hope it’s not the last. “Why don’t you try following me this time?” Her lips are moving but I can’t seem to compute anything with her soft curves pressed into me.

Wren maneuvers me right where she wants me. Then takes her place half a foot ahead. We take up the same amount of space on the dance floor that is typically allocated to one person.

Looking over her shoulder, she starts to direct me. Left foot. Right foot. Kick. Kick. Stomp. Wren does a half turn and we repeat the same movements. A few more rotations and I have the sequence memorized.

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