Page 22 of Perfect Playbook

We’ve had shots. We laughed about old classmates and Starlight Canyon gossip with me lying on the sofa, legs sprawled over his lap in drunken delight. Scantily clad waitresses have come and gone with a tacky firework display presenting us with overpriced champagne, but I’m so drunk I can’t even taste it, I merely feel the bubbles on mytongue.

And we dance.

Now, my back is against the wall in the space between two plush couches in our VIP area big enough for about ten people, occupied by two. I’ve completely forgotten myself, today, tomorrow, and even how to move my feet in time to the beat in the music. Not that I’ve ever been that good to begin with.

Now, I stand with my shoulders against a wall and roll them sexily; they don’t even feel like they belong to me. The DJ drops a bass beat, and euphoria pounds through the club. Logan sways in front of me. His cool, subtle dance moves become more animated; he throws his hand in the air with youthful abandon to celebrate the rhythm wrapping us in the all-consuming rapture of this sound. The DJ controls us with a baseline that vibrates the heart and rattles the rib cage as if nothing else in the world matters. I close my eyes and tip my head upward. Blinking lights make their way to the backs of my eyelids and party with me. The music takes a turn, and a diva-like female voice on the DJ’s track bellows into the space.

Throw yo’ hands up in the air…

I do as my girl commands and throw my hands up along the back wall. A few droplets of champagne spill out of the flute onto my head, but I have no control over my body, my mind. I’m floating away…

Until the pressure of Logan’s pants zipper pushes into the softness of my tummy and my breasts are suddenly sensitive, nipples peaked beneath my t-shirt. Logan’s eyes are trained on me, and his hips undulate in tandem with my torso.

I’m exposed with my arms still in the air. He wraps his giant hand around my waist and places it on the small of my back. He leans in to say something that sounds like:Are you getting dumb?

My loud, drunk shout searches for his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

He repeats himself, but I just point to my ear, hopeful he didn’t actually ask if I’m getting dumb, because let’s be honest, I am. I am very dumb right now. My brain has been drowned in at least three different kinds of spirits.

He shakes his head, places our drinks down on the nearby table. As if I weigh nothing, he grips the sides of my waist, fingers sinking into my flesh with a delicious sort of pressure. My feet land on one of the couches, and the uneven, soft surface isn’t great for my lack of balance. I throw my hands around his neck to stop myself from falling.

We’re face to face now. A strobe light illuminates his already gorgeous eyes.

“I asked if you’re having fun?” He still has to talk loudly for me to understand.

My lips are so close to his. His secure grip around my waist is hot as hell. His scent roams around me like some enchanting fog, a spell so alluring I want to fall under it. This is fun all right. Drunk, idiotic fun but I can’t deny it’s a good time.

I’m wasted and I’ll pay for it tomorrow. But for now, the alcohol resurrects that familiar bond between us, that magnetic comfort that we always had, and the ease… it doesn’t feel like it’s been sixteen years since our bodies collided like this.

“This…” I start to shout over the small expanse between us but then close the space and find his ear. The potion that is his cologne is even more potent this close to his thick, muscular neck.Maybe I should just sink my teeth into it now for a taste.

“This place is amazing. Thanks for bringing me here. I needed it.”

I’m finished talking but I don’t ease back. I like it here with our waists connected, his hands somehow both splayed over the humps of my ass, and his thumbs so close to either side of my zipper.

What big hands you have, Logan Hunter…

“Why did you need it?” His voice is low in my ear, and his nose clips my lobe.

My eyelids flutter shut at the flick of his nose on such a sensitive spot, and an inaudible purr races through me.

“What happened today?” he asks again.

I lean back and quirk my eyebrow. “I told you. I got an email.”

He bites his lip and nods. His gaze is intense in the short beat that passes, and I think he’s going to press.

I turn the tables. “What happened to you?”

His confession comes easy. “My agent told me the Scorpions are thinking of trading me.”

I swear the record scratches. That’s the worst thing that could happen to Logan. Leaving his best friend when Ashton’s retiring? No wonder he wanted to get messed up tonight. I would, too. Hell, I did.

I fold my arms more deeply around his neck and pull him against my chest for a hug. My nipples rasp against my bra, and I’m not sure if it’s the bassline or his heart I feel through my t-shirt.

“Sorry, Lo. I know you want to play with Ashton.”

Our hips are connected.

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