Page 54 of Trigger

“Youknow I’m bad at it, Vic. But, yeah, I’m free that day.”

Ifilled the shot glasses with tequila, glancing at him. Whatever they talkedabout made him anxious.

“Okay.Talk to you then. And say hello to Abigail for me.”

Whenhe hung up, I handed him his drink before settling in my chair.

Hesmirked, taking off his eyeglasses. “Are we celebrating something?”

“Nah,I just want to get drunk. Santé.”

“Cheers.”

“Eyeglassessuit you, by the way,” I said, as he resumed his seat. “You look like one ofthose sexy professors everyone wants to shag in college.”

Hechuckled. “Thanks?”

Ismiled too as he refilled our glasses and pushed mine toward me. The liquidsloshed, spilling over the rim before I caught the glass and brought it to mymouth.

Heseemed to be in a good mood, and it made me realize I never saw him thisrelaxed before. Usually, there was always something tense about him: his kneebouncing, his hand running through his hair, the trapped look in his eyes. Buttoday, he seemed at ease… happy even.

“Youmentioned graphic design,” I said, pouring us some more tequila. “It doesn’tseem like your kind of thing.”

Helicked the back of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it, and licked the salt offbefore drinking up. After he sucked on a lemon wedge, he made a face, making mesmile.

“Whynot?” he asked me as I drank up.

“Dunno,”I replied, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I expected some kind ofphysical activity to be more up your alley. If you hadn’t told me that you usedto be a gymnast, I would say swimming.”

“Why?”

“Youhave the body for it,” I replied, allowing my eyes to slide down his chest.“Torso. Shoulders. Legs. Ass.”

Helaughed. “Leave my ass out of the conversation, Thorsen.”

Hesprinkled salt on the back of his hand, but before he could lick it, I grabbedhis hand and licked the salt off his skin.

“Asshole,”he muttered, yanking his hand away as I burst into laughter because hisexpression just killed me. “Why did you do that?”

“‘CauseI like to ruffle your feathers, babe.”

Whenhe sprinkled salt on his hand and licked the spot that still glistened with mysaliva, my dick swelled.Fucking hell.I was going from throbbing tosemi and then back again the entire evening, and now this. What was I? A monk?

Hecould have licked another spot.A voice in my head whispered.Maybehe wanted to know what you taste like.

Yeah,I know, voice in my head. Also, fuck off.

WhileI was talking to myself like a proper loony, Carter refilled our glasses andpushed mine toward me.

“Bythe way,” I said, catching the glass. “What is it you’re bad at?”

“Whatdo you mean?”

Itried to concentrate on my answer because… What was this? Our fifth shot?Tenth? I couldn’t remember, but the bottle on the table seemed a little blurry.

“Youtold Vicky on the phone that you’re bad at something. I already know you’regood at punching people, solving crime, and breaking hearts. So, what is it youdon’t know?”

Hemade a face. “Oh, it’s just this party we’re going to. Vic’s mother is throwingit, so I can’t say no. The problem is, it requires dancing, and I suck atdancing.”

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