Page 78 of Sugarlips
“Oh, I’ll pay for my beer. It’s only $3 for happy hour, anyway,” he said and innocently grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket.
I could feel the heat of anger crawling up my neck until I thought I might look like a cartoon character with steam coming out of my ears. “So, then, when you asked for one check …” I paused, letting my words suspend in the air between us.Say it, I willed her.Admit that you expected me to pay.
To her credit, her cheeks flushed pink and she looked away from me, down at the bar. “I… I guess I wasn’t thinking. It was a force of habit.”
“I’ll get this one,” Liam said, lifting the check to look at it. “For crashing girls’ night early.”
“There,” Tanja smiled, pleased with herself. “All worked out.”
I slapped my hand down over his. “Don’t you dare,” I said to Liam. “You didn’t crash anything. You and I had plans and this happy hour was a surprise add-on to our manicure date.” I looked to Tanja. “We should split this.” I didn’t bring up the fact that she and I had already gotten a free glass of wine from Nick, and I had gifted her the bottle of nail polish as a small surprise. With our wines being on the happy hour menu, the whole bill was less than $15.
She glared at me and shoved her stool back. “Fine,” she said, her scowl quickly shifting to a sweet smile. “You’re right. No big deal.” She pulled a few folded bills out of her wallet and tossed them casually onto the bar. “I’ll see you Sunday for brunch, right?”
It was like friendship whiplash. “Um… yeah.”
“Great! Bye Liam. Kisses!” She was already halfway across the bar, blowing us kisses from over her shoulder before disappearing out the front door.
“What the hell was that about?” Liam asked.
I sighed and grabbed the bills she had tossed onto the bar, unfolding them. Three dollars. Three dollars folded together that didn’t even cover the cost of her drink. “That’s just Tanja,” I said, feeling suddenly exhausted.
“That’sjust Tanja?” he repeated, throwing air quotes around the phrase. “If anyone deserves the Tasmanian devil tag, it’s her, not you. She left here in a whirlwind.”
I tugged a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet and tossed it down with the check. As his brows lifted, he put down some of his own cash. “I can only imagine the two of you in undergrad… all girls gone wild.”
I snorted. “Hardly. I was more known for my success in the beer pong tournaments. Tanja was the one collecting beads.”
He scrunched his nose. “I would have slaughtered you in beer pong, you know.”
“Oh really? Were there lots of beer pong tournaments over at culinary school, pretty boy?” My fingers twitched, aching to feel the silken strands of his hair again. “I think I know what we’re doing after dinner.”
30
Liam
The night of the networking event, Chloe was nervous as hell. She didn’t show nerves by fidgeting or biting her nails or bouncing her knee like other women I knew.
She cleaned. And organized. So, when I arrived at her house in my suit, ready to pick her up for the event, and found the house smelling like bleach and lemon-scented wood polish, Iknew.
The breath punched out of my lungs at the sight of her. Goddamn, she was gorgeous. I didn’t get much of a chance to admire her though because she immediately bounded back up the steps as she put an earring on. “I forgot my lip gloss!” she called over her shoulder. The back of her dress was unzipped. Wide open, flapping with each bouncing step up the staircase, and revealing the straps of a black lacy thong over her hips. My cock jumped against the zipper of my pants and I was grateful that this was one of the rare times that I actually wore boxer briefs. Something told me I’d need the containment tonight with Chloe in that tight, black cocktail dress—especially after getting a peek at her panties.
In another few moments, she was in front of me again, her full lips glossed. Cobalt eyes bright and lined with coal-colored makeup. Her lashes were something out of a Disney movie, curved and almost hitting her eyebrows they were so long. Her black lace dress was sexy, but understated, hugging her tight, thin curves.
In a word, she was breathtaking.
“Zip me up?” she asked and spun so that her bare, muscled back was facing me and gathered her golden curls into a pile on top of her head.
Fuck me, no bra.
“Of course,” I managed to say despite my dry throat. I pinched the metal zipper and pulled it slowly up, the teeth catching one by one and it felt like a damn shame to be zipping her into and not out of that dress.
I got one last glimpse of the lacy top of her thong peeking out over her heart shaped ass as I finished zipping her in. She turned to face me, and fuck, she was beautiful. “There,” I said, forcing myself to step back. “Perfect.”
Her eyes scanned me, appreciatively. “You look good in a suit.”
“I look better out of it.”
“Oh, I know.” She laughed, grabbing her keys and lobbing them at me—a high-arching toss into the air—and I casually stuck my hand out to catch them without even shifting my glance.
