Page 89 of Break

I’m finding myself unable to look away as she moves around the side of the pool table gracefully. Her fingers dance along the pool cue as she watches Vincent rack the pool balls.

Mina is dressed in dark gray leggings, which is a phenomenon on its own because all our memories of her have her always dressed in long skirts and blouses, and an oversized beige sweater. Her slight curves are hidden, but I notice them when she leans or bends interacting with all of us.

The most stunning part of her tonight is that she’s chosen to wear her hair down. Her dark chocolate locks are brushed out and hanging in waves over her shoulders and down her back. The amount of thick hair she has makes me think it’s got to feel heavy on her neck, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. My fingers itch to run through the silky strands. Now I have a deeper understanding of why Vincent is constantly encouraging her to let him play with it.

“Come over here so I can show you how we rack up the balls. The order of solids and stripes is important, depending on the game you’re playing, and makes them spread out evenly across the table after the break.” Vincent’s love for this game is apparent to all of us. Mina’s interest has him feeling about ten-feet tall right now.

She hurriedly sets down her cue, picks up her cranberry and vodka, and moves over to his side, leaning over to watch as he points out what he’s doing.

Max alternates between staring at her and looking over the crowd to make sure there is no danger lurking among the bodies. Cooper stayed true to his word and sent an ununiformed officer to follow behind as an extra set of eyes. Mina doesn’t know he’s here, but I spotted him almost immediately. Right now, he’s sitting at the end of the bar nursing a soda.

Mina wasn’t sure what she should order as her first drink, so Vince suggested the cranberry and vodka for her. He promised it would be sweet, and the tartness of the juice would cut the flavor of the alcohol in case she didn’t care for it. Glancing at her half-empty glass, I smirk at the fact that she found it to her liking.

It’s like she can hear my thoughts as she looks up at me. She grins as she wraps those plump lips around the straw and sucks down a decent amount of her drink.

Max hops up from where he’s sitting at one of the high-rise tables next to the pool table and walks over to her. It’s noisy in here, so he rests his hand along her waist to lean in and speak against her ear. She’s only had the one drink, but since she’s never drank, there’s already a flush creeping across her cheeks as the alcohol warms her from the inside. She nods to him, and before he leaves, he presses a kiss to her cheek, then makes his way to the bar presumably to get another round of drinks.

Once Vincent is done explaining the setup and some basics of the game, he looks at me. “We could play teams to start? We can let Mina get a feel of how it’s played.” Smiling down at her where she’s still standing closely next to him, he adds with a wink, “No better way to learn than actually doing it.”

Chuckling under my breath, I wave Mina over to me. “I’ll team with you, darlin’.”

Feigning a pout, Vincent sighs loudly. “You stole my thunder, you fucker. But next game, you’re all mine, sweetness.”

Mina smiles to herself, looking down at the ground to hide her blush at his words.

“You should practice with the cue and eight balls. It’s tricky to get the hang of lining up a shot and finding the right feel for how hard you should be hitting it.” Max sets down a beer for me and another mixed drink for Mina as he talks.

Eyeing up the orange drink, she looks at him questioningly. “What’s in that one?” She steps closer to it and leans down to smell it before looking back up at him. “Is that orange juice?”

Laughing, he tilts his head toward her drink. “Try it. It’s called a screwdriver. It’s just orange juice with vodka, but I think you’ll like it.”

Setting down her now empty glass, she picks up the new drink and takes another sniff before placing the rim against her lips and taking a small sip. Smacking her lips together, she lights up like a fucking neon sign. “Oh, wow! I can’t taste anything except the juice.” Grinning at me, she giggles. “I think I like this one better than the first one.”

Vincent laughs loudly from his side of the table. “I’m getting you the next one. Just make sure you pace yourself and drink water in between, otherwise you’ll be miserable by morning.”

Slightly buzzed, Mina is much more vocal with her thoughts, and I cover my mouth to hold back a laugh when she waves him off. “The whole point was to see what this was like. I won’t go crazy, but I want to know how itallfeels… even a hangover.”

Shaking my head at her, I can’t help teasing her back. “Famous last words. Come on, let me show you how to stand and hold the pool cue.”

She takes another large sip of her drink and sets the glass down a little too firmly in her excitement. Looking down at her hand, she wipes the spilled juice on the side of her pants as she moves next to me.

I’ve already picked up the cue she’s chosen to use and hold it out to her, then reach to the table to set the cue ball in front of her. “Since you’re right-handed-”

She interrupts me and swings her face around to look up at me. “How’d you know I was right-handed?”

Shrugging, I tell her the truth. “I watch you. So, since you’re right-handed, you’ll want to hold the base of the stick with that hand here,” I point toward the bottom of the stick, “and then rest the narrow end on your left like this.” I pull her left hand to the table, and the movement forces her to bend over in half, pushing her ass into the cradle of my hips. I freeze, worried my actions will make her feel uncomfortable.

Giggling, she blows out a breath. “This feels silly. Are you sure I’m doing it right?” Mina shifts her hand under mine to make it more comfortable for her, visibly unaware of the compromising position I’ve got her in. Glancing at Vincent has me holding back a groan as his eyes dance with amusement over my predicament.

I want to growl at him, but I focus on teaching. Tapping the inside of her foot with mine, I encourage her to widen her stance. “Your feet should be a little wider than shoulder-width apart.” She slides her feet out, which arches her down another few inches. Looking at the ceiling, I swallow. “Almost. Spread them a bit wider.”

“Like this?” she asks, looking down at her feet where my foot is between her legs.

Clearing my throat, I ignore the pressure of her body against mine and continue like her assisn’tpushing into my semi-hard dick. “Almost.” I readjust her hand and then continue. “Your feet are good. Now, try putting your index finger on the top, curving over it… Yes, like that.” I praise her as she listens and ignore the sight of her tongue poking out in concentration. “Now, put your right thumb at the bottom of the stick to help you keep control of the angle. When you’re moving the cue to strike the ball, your left hand is never going to move, so make sure you hold it firm enough to keep it lined up, but not so tightly that you can’t slide the cue back and forth.”

I know I’m going to regret my next direction, so I ignore the guys watching us like hawks. “Try sliding it back and forth to get the feel.”

Closing my eyes, I keep my hands over hers as she slides the cue back and forth, slightly adjusting her grip until it’s comfortable. “Like that?” Christ, she asks it so innocently that I know there’s no way she realizes that she’s literally thrusting the stick through her fingers. I feel slightly guilty as I correlate what she’d look like with her hand on my cock.

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