Page 19 of Operation Annulment
His grin turns wolfish as he grabs a bottle of tequila, some salt, and a couple of limes. He takes my hand and casually strokes the back with his finger.
“Lick right here,” he says, his gaze darkening as he watches my tongue sweep over the skin. “Now, we add the salt.”
“Yeah, that seems super unsanitary,” Dakota notes as he pours it onto my hand, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
I have got to get some alcohol into this girl, or this night will be over before it’s even begun.
“And then what?” I ask in a breathy tone that makes me sound like an airhead.
He releases my hand to pour the shots before sliding them in front of us. “You’re going to lick the salt, knock back the tequila in one drink, and then suck on the lime wedge. Lick. Slam. Suck.”
He runs his tongue over his lower lip as he says it, and I feel… absolutely nothing.
I turn to Dakota. “Ready?”
“I don’t know,” she says, pursing her lips. “Don’t all the bad drinking stories start with tequila?”
“No, they start with someone being too much of a scaredy cat to drink a shot?—”
“Take a shot,” the bartender corrects with an amused grin. “Don’t drink it. Just knock it back.”
“You heard the man, Dakota. Just knock it back and live a little,” I declare before raising my shot glass. “To not chasing.”
My reflection moves in and out of focus in the bathroom mirror, and I grip the sides of the sink to steady myself. When the first shot didn’t help take my mind off Nate, I ordered another round.
And then another.
What was it Luke had said—that tequila sneaks up on you?
That was the bartender’s name, right?
Or was it Levi?
I wet a paper towel with cold water and press it to my flushed cheeks, silently willing the room to stop moving so I can think straight.
My phone buzzes against the scarred laminate countertop.
Nate. Again.
Nate: I can come to you, or you can come here, but I won’t sleep until I know you’re okay.
Leave him on read. That was the rule.
But that was before the liquor turned my body into one large erogenous zone. Before tonight, I’d never understood the appeal of drinking. I always thought people used it as an excuse to act out and let their shadow side run free.
But I get it now.
I feel buzzy and relaxed and—“Horny,” I mumble before slipping into a stall and locking the door behind me.
The warmth in my face migrates lower as I work my dress up over my hips and tug my panties down.
Torture.
That’s what this man has been doing to me for two weeks. Torturing me with promises he hasn’t kept.
I bite back a moan as I slide my fingertips through the sticky strands of arousal clinging to the insides of my thighs before deciding it’s time for a little payback.
Kate: I want to come for you.
