Page 49 of Mind Pucked

I don’t know what I would say to him if he asked me about my brother. I can’t just say,Oh, you know who he is, you may have killed him, but I don’t know. I’m actually infiltrating your life to prove my theory, but you used to be rivals and he might have been screwing your wife.

I hate the position I’m in—my mind wants me to hate this guy, but my heart and certainly my body are screaming at me to jump him.

“I’m happy to be of some help where beating Oliver is involved,” I say as I glance over to where Oliver is sitting. He’s asleep with his head down on the bar.

I giggle.

“Do you want another drink?” Jackson asks me, pointing to my empty glass.

“I’d take a shot or two,” I say, sending my glass into his hand with a little slide across the bar.

“Eight shots of whatever’s handy,” he says to the bartender, and I gulp.

“I hope you don’t think those are all for me—I’d be swimming by the end of the night,” I giggle, leaning forward a little.

Our arms brush and it sends electricity through me. I can see the look in his eyes as he too leans in a little, but then pulls back as if suddenly remembering we’re in a room full of people.

“Four for me, four for you,” he teases as he lowers his hand to the bar and lets the tips of his fingers caress mine.

It’s an innocent touch, one that most people wouldn’t recognize as anything, but it’s enough to set me on fire. My gut twists with want and longing as I think about what it would be like to be with him out in the open. Could that ever be possible?

Before I can think too much on the subject, four shots of rum are sat in front of me, and four in front of him…no chasers. I lock eyes with him as if setting a challenge.

I pick up the first one and he does the same as we continue to lock eyes. We both down the contents at the same time, and I reach for the second at the same time he does. I smile as my head swims a little, but at the same time, we down another shot.

Cheers erupt from around us as I realize we’ve drawn a small crowd, everyone watching as we pick up our third shots and top those back as well.

Somehow as we reach for our fourth, two more shots each are sat in front of us and I see Felix paying for them.

We down the fourth, then the fifth, and by the time we get to our sixth, two more each have been put down. This time Benjamin and Vaughn are splitting the payment for the new shots.

I down this new one and have to pause a moment to adjust to the new taste of vodka. When did we switch?

The group keeps buying and adding to the shots. The determined look on Jackson’s face tells me I’ll likely throw up before he gives up. Shots nine and ten go down smoothly, but by number twelve, I’m almost done.

The sheer number of shots that are gathering on the bar in front of us is crazy.

“Do you give up?” he asks me as he shoots down his fifteenth or sixteenth.

“No way.” I pick up another and shoot it back…tequila.

I don’t know if it’s the mix of alcohol or what, but I am beginning to feel the effects hard. I get about half the tequila down as Jackson shoots two more at the same time.

“Give,” I say as I slam the half-drunk shot down on the counter and throw my hands in the air. “You win!” I shout as we both start to laugh.

The crowd cheers, and people start to grab the remaining shots off the bar and down them. All the while my eyes are locked in Jackson.

I can hold my alcohol, but apparently so can he. My heart skips a beat as he moves his hand to fully cover mine now. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but my head swims with the knowledge that a public display of affection is a bad idea.

I stiffen a little as he leans forward, but as our lips meet, I relax into it, allowing him to scoot off his stool and stand between my thighs.

More cheers ring from the crowd at seeing us kiss, and a few of the guys slap Jackson on the back, and ass, sending him joltinginto me enough that I can feel just how aroused he is through my jeans…and his.

I know I need to stop this. I am here doing this damn thing for a reason, but right now, my heart, mind, and body have forgotten what and why that might be. I don’t know if I care right now either.

Twenty minutes later, we’re crashing into the door of the hotel room we just rented. It’s directly across from the bar and a convenient walk for anyone who has drunk too much.

The door slams behind us, perhaps a little too loudly as my legs wrap around him and we press against the wall. My body is hot and fuzzy, but it only fuels my want for him…no, myneedfor him.

---