Page 36 of Bourbon and Secrets

This should hold you over until I get to play with you.

This should be good.There’s no way that message was meant for me, but it’s the video message that’s attached that has my interest piqued. When I click it open, my screen is a zoomed-in image of Faye’s cleavage, the phone propped just right as she steps back and smiles into the picture, then she turns around, bends at the waist just enough so I have a view of two perfectfucking creases right where the tops of her thighs meet her ass.Fuck. Me.My mouth waters and I rub my hand across my jaw and over my mouth. This better not be forfuckingCortez.

She lifts the sides of her skirt—the same one she’s wearing tonight.Is she doing this in the bathroom?Then she rolls down the string she had on for panties. Every part of me is screaming hell yes. My cock jabs me in the thigh, making sure I’m seeing this too. I look to my left to make sure no one else is watching, but instead of someone peering over my shoulder, Faye’s striding down the corridor to the bar, glancing around furiously for someone. Pretty sure that someone is me and I’m instantly lit up with amusement. She knows she just sent this to the wrong person. She does a double take and stalks over when she sees me already looking at her.Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“Give me your phone,” she demands, holding out her hand.

Tilting my head to the side as I look at her, I slip my phone into my back pocket and then take a sip of my bourbon. “Why would I give you my phone?”

She shuffles closer to me, wedging herself in between my spread legs. I’d be lying if I said her body this close doesn’t do things to me. Maybe it’s the little teaser I just watched, or maybe it’s just her, but I’m annoyingly turned on. She moves in closer. Her cheek brushes mine as her lips linger right next to my ear, my pulse ticking up in response. “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”

I sniff out a laugh, which has her pulling back. She’s furious. “Not going to happen,” I say as I sip on my bourbon to keep from letting another smile escape. “Did you send something to me you weren’t supposed to? Is that it?”

Now she’s glaring. “You already watched it?” And before waiting for me to answer, she sarcastically croons, “So eager, Foxx.” Her attention dips to my lap as she quips, “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Fucking hell, this woman.I look back at the dance floor and see Cortez laughing with Hadley and another few people. “I’m more interested in who that was meant for.” I nod in the direction of Cortez. “It wasn’t for him. That’s just business, right?”

I loop my finger into the waistband of her skirt and yank her closer. Her eyes widen, and her lips part, letting a gasp escape. She hadn’t expected it, and I’m finding far too much enjoyment in surprising her. Pushing her. “Who are you teasing with a video like that?”

The question comes out sounding more possessive than I wanted.

Eyes on mine, she pouts. I’ve never craved to bite something more than I do that bottom lip.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Foxx? Are you jealous? Or are you more of a prude than everyone thinks?”

Why am I turned on by the mouth she’s got on her? She’s not far off, but she doesn’t get to know that. “Nah, Peach. I’m not jealous.” I lean into her ear, the same way she had done to me moments ago. “You and I both know that if I wanted you, you’d let me have you.” Keeping my finger hooked in her skirt, she’s not able to pull away. I run the knuckle of my finger back and forth along the slip of skin under the waistband. “Wouldn’t you?”

A slow smile curves her mouth, her tongue peeking out to wet that plush bottom lip. Waving to the bartender, she lifts my hand from her waist. She stands on her tiptoes as the bartender approaches, then leans over to say something. But it’s when she turns back, smiling at me, a wicked gleam in her eyes, that I realize she didn’t just order a drink or close out a tab.

“Faye, what did you?—”

I get cut off as the bartender pulls out a silver triangle and starts hitting it with a piece of metal.Fucking hell.Everyonewithin earshot knows that means a round of drinks has been paid for.

She calls out, “This round is on Lincoln Foxx!” The crowd around me and the entire length of the bar start whistling and clapping.

When I glance to my right where Faye had just been, I realize she’s gone and already halfway to the door. “Hey!” I shout.

She stops, looks over her shoulder, and then turns her full body, flips me off, and walks backward toward the door while holding upmyfucking phone.

I throw down my credit card. “Cap it at five hundred,” I tell the bartender, and then I’m moving through the crowd and out the front door. I look around for a second, trying to see if she went toward the parking lot to the left of the building or across the street, but when the door to the bar closes behind me, it’s quiet. Which means I should have no problem finding her. The line that was here when we arrived is already through the door and the only other people out here are a smoker and a bouncer. A few seconds later, I hear a woman’s laugh and turn toward the small alley between the bar and the building. Cloudy plumes of warm breath billow from the same direction.There you are.

“I thought you might have liked that,” she says in a low, sexy tone just as I round the corner. “Of course. I already said I would be there.”

My boots scuff the pavement as I round the corner to interrupt.

Her head jerks up and eyes widen when she sees me. But then whoever she’s talking to makes her laugh.Who the fuck is she talking to?She hums right before she says, “But teasing is the best part.”

My entire body feels those words like a caress, especially with her eyes on me. The way she drags her bottom lip between her teeth, making it wet and reddened, makes me second guess ifthat was meant for me. She starts to pull the phone away from her ear so I can hear the deep voice talking on the other end.

I hold up my hand and say, “Don’t hang up.”

I wasn’t going to,she mouths. I take it as a challenge.

I take a step closer and raise my finger to my lips, signaling for her to be quiet.

She clears her throat. “Yes. I’m still here.”

I don’t know, nor do I care, who she’s lying to on that call. It’s not my problem. My problem is the five-foot-something blonde in front of me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, maybe for even longer than I care to admit. I should walk away and keep my focus on my own life. But the lines that feel so thin between us make it difficult to tell if it’s attraction, anger, or just an unexplainable primal need drawing us together.

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