Page 68 of Brooklyn Cupid

Tito doesn’t give up, glancing at us touching. He can seduce a straight homophobic guy if he tries hard enough.

“You need a hand? I have gentle hands. Skillful too.”

Jace’s arms tighten around my waist. “Not my jam.”

We sway to the music, andIwanna be his jam so badly. His. Whatever he wants. Yes, my roommate is hot and drunk, but he’s not shy with me anymore.

Viva alcohol!

Jace’s hips swing to the music against mine. He leans to press his nose to my neck, sending goosebumps down my body, and inhales.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs.

So do you.

Tito’s eyes narrow at us. “Jace, I wanna see your tattoos. Rumor has it you have a shark tattoo.”

I spin around and meet Jace’s playful gaze.

“Come on, Jace!” I cheer. “Shirt! Off! Shirt! Off!”

Tito joins in. We squeal in unison when Jace reaches behind his back and pulls his shirt off, then starts swinging it above his head and rolling his hips to the music.

Whoa!

Both Tito and I gawk, walk up, and start touching him.

Tito is eating him up with his eyes. He’s shameless when he’s drunk.

I’m playing along like it’s Tito’s idea though my head spins at the touch, at the subtle scent of Jace’s deodorant, his bare torso so close to me.

“Jace, baby,” Tito drawls, sliding his one hand to the shark tattoo.

I slap it away. “Back off! Jace is mine!” I laugh, though I’d love to let my hand travel the path of that sneaky shark.

“Oh! Since when?”

“He’s my roommate.”

“Well, then,” Tito says bitterly and purposefully places his hand on Jace’s chest.

Any other guy would’ve pushed him away. But not Jace. Nor does he care about Tito’s hands, because Jace’s eyes are on me.

I lean over to Tito. “Back off,” I hiss, playfully narrowing my eyes at him, and lean in to press my cheek to Jace’s shoulder. “Mine.”

Jace dances out of Tito’s touch, steps behind me, and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing me close. “Mine,” he whispers in my ear.

It’s not the booze that makes me dizzy. It’s Jace. His strong body I want to caress. His lips planting a little kiss on my cheek.

“Fine!” Tito throws his hands in the air, grabs my phone from the table, and changes the song.

“Promises” by Sam Smith comes on, Tito’s favorite song.

I hum along to the soft seductive tunes.

“Jace, you might have to fight this guy off,” I joke as Tito lifts his hands and swings his hips, dancing his way to us.

Jace lets go and turns me around. Locks his gaze with mine.

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