Page 94 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Addie nodded at him and then turned to Tucker. “Bet you took that pretty hard, considerin’ you don’t wanna work at that law office anyhow.”
He curved his hand around the bill of his trusty, worn Saints cap. “Real broken up about it.”
“Come on, then. I’ll buy you a beer.” She took his hand, and a calming warmth washed through him.
To see the stunned expression on the asshole lawyer’s face, he would gladly ask her to swoop in and “save” him any day.
“You’d better be doing your exercises on that shoulder, Matthews,” she fired back. “I have ways of finding out if you’re not.”
With that, she tugged Tucker toward the bar.
He wanted to lace his fingers with hers, curl her close, and kiss the hell out of her.
Unfortunately too many people were giving them curious looks. She dropped his hand and leaned her forearms on the bar, calling out an order for a pitcher of beer, wings, and a giant order of onion rings.
She glanced back at him. “Uh, make that French fries please.”
He hoped that meant there’d be a lot of kissing in their future.
It was going to take every ounce of his self-control to suffer through the game without getting his mouth on her. It’d been so long he could hardly remember the taste of her lips, and that simply wouldn’t do.
They headed to the table and caught up with the guys, and as the game got going, they ate and hollered at the TV and did the usual Sunday afternoon thing.
He’d stuck to one beer in the first quarter so nothing would hamper their getting the hell out of Dodge the second the game was over.
The Falcons pulled ahead of the Pats halfway through the third. It was the one matchup where he reluctantly cheered for Atlanta, and a happy Addie added extra motivation to join in on the celebration.
Among the cries and cheers, Tucker circled around behind Addie in the name of seeing the game better. The table was at least partially blocking them, so he slipped his hand inside the large gap in her overalls.
She sucked in a breath, and he pushed closer to her stool as he leaned over and braced a palm on the table. “These aren’t really working at keeping my thoughts out of the gutter,” he whispered, and then he slipped his hand under her T-shirt and dragged it across the smooth skin of her stomach.
He spread his fingers until his thumb brushed the bottom of her bra, and his rapid pulse pounded through his head.
He swallowed, hard, his desire moving into need territory. “Bonus, they provide excellent cover.”
She reached in from the other side, covering his hand with hers, and he thought she was going to stop his progress or tell him they needed to be good.
But instead she tipped her head to the side, and when everyone else was busy cheering for the wide receiver who was running the ball, her lips brushed his jawline. “Your hat’s not as much of a deterrent as I thought it’d be, either. Then again, you’re still wearing it on your head, and not—”
He pushed against her, his arousal lined right up with her ass, and she gripped the edge of the table.
His pinkie skirted the top of her panties, and when he arrived at the spot over her hip, all he felt was one blessedly tiny string of fabric. “You’re not wearing good girl underwear,” he said low in her ear, and if he didn’t keep himself in check, he’d throw caution to the wind, capture her mouth with his and kiss her in front of everyone, and then drag her into the bar bathroom.
Their first time couldn’t be in a bar bathroom.
Then again, who was he to go pretending he had scruples? Kinda hard to do with his hand down Addie’s pants.
…
Delicious, intoxicating heat danced across Addie’s skin, and the ache forming between her thighs demanded she do something about it, and soon.
She batted her eyes at Tucker, feigning innocence, and then she shrugged a shoulder and said, “Oh. I’m not really a good girl.”
His harsh exhale stirred her hair and zapped every single one of her nerve endings.
She’d never expected to feel sexy in the overalls. She’d worn them as an inside joke.
Right now it felt like the best inside jokeever.
