Page 26 of The Wrong Play

The way she said my name. I felt it in my chest.

It was the first time she’d said it, and I fuckinglovedit. I grinned. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were pink again.

I turned around and kept walking, bringing her to the bar. I didn’t want to let go of her hand until I had to.

The bartender looked up, his gaze dragging up and down her body. “What can I get you?” he asked her, like I wasn’t standing there holding her hand.

All right, that whole locked room scenario was sounding more and more like a great idea.

“My lady needs a drink,” I said, dropping my arm onto the counter and tilting my head toward my soulmate. “Something fruity.”

Her brows shot up. “You don’t even know what I like.”

“Okay, tell me what you like then,” I told her, getting so close I could inhale her breaths.

Like a psycho.

She huffed, and I tried not to be completely obvious that I was sucking it in like a crack addict. “Something fruity,” she finally mumbled…complete with an adorable eye roll.

I held in my snicker like a gentleman.

The bartender chuckled and threw a few things in a glass before sliding it over to her. “That’ll do it.”

She narrowed her eyes at the bright pink cocktail with a pineapple wedge and a tiny umbrella on top.

I grinned, grabbing the drink and plucking the umbrella out and tucking it behind her ear.

She froze, and then she smiled. A small, secretive kind of smile. Like I’d done something unexpectedly right. Her fingers brushed against mine as she took the glass from me, sending a sharp jolt of heat through my body. Holding my gaze, she took a tentative sip, and then licked her lips.

I almost groaned, my gaze caught on her pink tongue gliding across her mouth, watching the way her lips pressed against the glass, a wave of pure, unfiltered possessiveness slamming into my chest.

Fuck.

“Okay,” she admitted. “That’s pretty good.”

I took the opportunity to lean in close again. “Told you,” I murmured. “Now, tell me your name.”

She hesitated. “I’m still not giving you that.”

I grinned. “Not even if I guess?”

Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. “You’re not going to guess.”

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Angel?” She rolled her eyes.

“Sweetheart?”

“Original.”

“Sugarplum?”

She laughed—really laughed, her face lighting up with it, and it felt like a punch to the ribs.

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