Page 5 of Tempting Him

“I’m checking this off my list.”

“What’s left on your list?” he jokes.

“Not much,” I answer with a laugh. “He’s hot though. You gotta admit.”

Dom studies the man again. He’s wearing a suit, but the jacket is hanging from the back of his chair as he holds a highball glass in one hand and types into his phone with the other.

“Yeah, I’ll give you that. Doesn’t seem like much fun, though. He probably only fucks in the missionary position.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll teach him more positions then. See ya later.”

“Good luck.”

Starting toward the table, I wonder if he’s one of the guests who’s just too introverted to mingle. I slide into the chair across from him and give him a smile.

“Hey, I’m Jay. Are you with the wedding party?”

His head snaps up and his piercing blue-green eyes find mine, his brows knitted in the center, confusion and surprise written on his face.

“Sorry?”

I point toward the large group of people. “It’s a bachelor/bachelorette party. I thought you might be a guest.”

“Oh. No. Just the unfortunate luck of choosing what I thought would be a quiet place when they decided to party here.”

“Ah. Yeah, that is unfortunate.” I pause, drinking him in. “Or, maybe a blessing in disguise. Maybe what you need is to loosen up and have a little fun.”

He peels his eyes from his phone and stares at me. “You think I need to loosen up? Do you know me well enough to make that assessment?”

“I’d like to get to know you a little more,” I flirt.

He puts his phone down and rubs his thumb across his bottom lip as he studies me. He’s definitely more attractive up close. His skin is flawless and bronze—the color people attempt to get via tanning beds, but his is natural. I can tell. His hair is an inky black, and his thick eyebrows and dark lashes make the blue of his eyes stand out even more. The color is mesmerizing. I’m not sure if they’re actually blue or green. They seem to be a good mix of both.

Before he can say anything, Ash appears at the table and drops off two shot glasses before he returns to the bar.

The man in front of me raises a questioning brow.

“Care for a shot?” I ask, handing him one.

He’s slow to take it from me, but he does.

“To what?” he asks.

“New friends?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have friends.”

“Then you have room for one.”

“I don’t have room for anything,” he counters.

“To tonight?” I question.

He nods once. “Okay.”

We clink our glasses together before drinking down the liquor.

“Can I get your name?”

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