Page 79 of All We Need

Graham: You asked me for a LEGO set the other week.

Booth: That was a Christmas gift, you heartless prick!

*Booth has left the chat*

*Quinn added Booth to the chat*

Quinn: Hi, Booth, :) Graham and I would love to join you tonight.

I pictureGrahamscowling atQuinn’supbeat response and chuckle.

Booth: Thanks, Quinn. You were always my favorite.

Jo: Hey!

Booth: I promise you won’tregret this ;)

“This ismy biggest regret of the year,”Dexgrumbles around the rim of his glass.

“It’sJanuarysecond.”Johannalaughs.

“Exactly.Andnothing will top this.”

I kick his shin under the table. “Shutup.Howis this any different from any other night we meet for drinks?”

Patrick andFlorencereturn to the table and divvy out a round of drinks.

“So tell me again,”Florencestarts, tapping her finger on her chin. “YoutoldAlessandrathat we do thiseveryyear so you could hang out with her?”

My cheeks heat. “Whenyou put it like that,Isound pathetic.”

“Because you are,”Grahamkindly adds.

Standing abruptly,Islam my gin and tonic down. “I’mleaving.”

Johanna clears her throat,Dexlets out a low whistle, andQuinn’seyes go wide.

“What?”Iask in confusion.

Florence is the one to respond. “Iwouldn’t go yet, big bro.”Shegrips my chin and twists my head toward the door.

My heart tumbles out of my chest.Everythingbecomes irrelevant, other thanher.

I told her to wear something pretty.Intypical fashion, she did the opposite.Thisisn’t pretty.It’sdownright sexy.

It’s still below zero outside, and with her coat slung over her arm, her entire outfit is visible.High-waisted, navy and white striped pants hug her hips and ass before flaring out at the bottom.Alow-cut silky top showcases the pillowy tops of her perky breasts.Whathas my pulse going berserk is her hairpiled high on her head.Inkyringlets frame her oval-shaped face, giving me an unobscured view of her slender neck.

She’s a sensual masterpiece.Acollector’s item that refuses to be hidden away.Becausewhat a pity it would be to hide the breathtaking beauty that people write sonnets about.

The world was never prepared for a woman likeAlessandraArgiros.Andneither amI.

I lose track of the minutes spent staring at her, and when we lock eyes, that secret smile paints her cherry lips.I’mpositive she chose that shade to torture me.

She holds up a finger and grabs the attention of the bartender.Witha glass of red in hand, she sashays over.Confidentand bold.

“Evening,” she greets everyone, squeezing in betweenDexandQuinn.

“Oh, yay,Aly!”Quinncheers.Theother girls smile and say hello, and something sparkles inAly’seyes at their friendly welcome.

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