Page 21 of Troublemaker
The bartender shook his head but pulled out a top-shelf tequila and poured two shots.
“I need training wheels,” I admitted, and he added a slice of lime and held out a saltshaker.
“I’ll take this,” the man standing next to me said, and grabbing the salt, held it out. “Want to give me your hand?” he asked, and I handed it to him. Bending down, he placed a kiss on the skin between my thumb and forefinger. The tiniest of tingles ran through me.
This one.
I was barely into him, but barely would have to be enough tonight.
Then he licked my hand and poured some salt on it.
I felt nothing.
“Ready?” he asked.
I wasn’t.
I really wasn’t.
But what choice did I have? It was either this—shots and sex—or go home and mope until I got old. I was a lot of things, but pathetic wasn’t one of them.
Although, isn’t it pathetic to lose your virginity to someone who you’re barely into just to avoid your feelings about someone else?
I ignored the bitch in my head and her honest question. I didn’t need that right now.
Lifting the shot glass with my other hand, I clinked it with the nameless man, looking into his eyes as I licked up the salt, poured the drink down my throat.
Fire burned through me, heating my insides and calming me down.
Yup, I could do this.
“So, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing at a place like this?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes, sucking on the lime, delighting in the way his eyes heated. “Does that line usually work for you?”
He moved in closer, running his free hand over my bare shoulder. I was in a red dress that was tight enough to be a second skin. It showedeverything. I’d even been tempted to take a photo of myself and send it to Coach, but his perfunctory fatherly bullshit, or more likely, silence, would’ve hurt even more.
The man appreciated my dress; it was clear by the way his eyes roved over my body.
“Well?” he prompted.
I figured honesty wouldn’t hurt. “Trying to distract myself from silly heartbreak,” I said.
That made him cough. “What kind of man would be stupid enough to break your heart?”
I shrugged.
“An idiot. A fool,” he decided. “Complete moron to let you slip through his fingers. Lucky for me though, because I’m happy to pick up where he left off.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Sam.”
Something prompted me to say, “Lacy.”
Why, I didn’t know, but giving him my real name felt way too…personal.
What’s more personal than letting him stick his dick in your vagina?that voice asked.
Shut up,I thought back.
And, doing my best to shut her up, I looked at him from under my lashes. “And where exactly would you pick up, Sam?”
