Chapter 9 #2
“So original,” I drawl with a dramatic eyeroll.
After we both gulp down the next round, a rogue clump of cinnamon sugar clings to the corner of his mouth. I bite my lip, then reach forward before I can talk myself out of it. My thumb drags slowly across his bottom lip, mesmerized by the way it yields beneath the touch.
He catches my wrist, and his eyes never leave mine as his tongue darts out to lick the sugar from my thumb.
“You’re going to kill me,” I breathe.
His smile turns radiant as he presses a soft kiss to the pad of my thumb before releasing me. “Good. I like keeping you on your toes.” His voice is teasing, far too pleased with himself. “It’s your turn.”
I flash him a smirk, trying to regain some control. “Alright, I’ve got one, but I’m not so sure you can handle it.”
“I can handle anything you give me, sweetheart,” he tosses back.
The tension between us is sweltering, and I know he feels it too. In a desperate attempt to steer us back into safer territory, I nod toward the busy bar. “Alright, tough guy. Do a runway strut to the bar and back. Full commitment. I want to see hips swinging.”
Connor’s eyebrows shoot up, but the challenge clearly brings out a competitive edge. “Full commitment, huh?”
I lean back in my chair with a grin. “Let’s see if the man who talks all this mad game can pull it off without embarrassing himself in front of all these people.”
He stands up slowly, already putting on a show, and gives me a cocky little salute. “Challenge accepted.”
Connor doesn’t hesitate for even a second. He jumps to his feet, plants a hand on his hip, and starts strutting with his hips swinging like a pendulum, placing one foot directly in front of the other.
A man his size has no right to high-step so gracefully.
He reaches the counter and does a dramatic spin, arms flying out before landing back on his hips. I shove my knuckle between my teeth, biting down hard as my shoulders shake.
Halfway back to the table, he stops and blows a kiss to the cluster of women who are staring at him. They explode into loud giggles as he continues strutting, bypassing his own chair and stopping right in front of me. He bends down until we’re face to face.
“How was that?”
“It was great,” I say, “until you gave someone else your kisses.” A touch of jealousy colors my words, playful but unmistakable.
“Stand up,” he orders softly.
I rise obediently, tilting my face up toward him. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on my temple, then another on my cheek, and finally one at the very corner of my mouth. My breath comes in jagged pants by the time he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Is that better?”
“Almost,” I whisper.
He grins before leaning in close to my ear. “It’s your turn,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against my jaw for one breathless moment. The sight of his smirk as he pulls away leaves me convinced my heart can’t possibly take any more.
“Watch and learn, big boy,” I tease, pulling my ponytail free so my hair falls loose around my shoulders. I approach the bar with an exaggerated swagger, my body moving loose and confident. The bartender grins at me, clearly entertained after having watched Connor’s strut just moments earlier.
I wink at her and gesture toward the small fan sitting on the bar. “Can I borrow that for a second?”
“Oh, by all means, please do.”
I snatch it off the counter, turn dramatically, and angle it toward my face while striking a pose—feet planted wide, chin tilted to the ceiling. My hair cyclones wildly in the air, swirling and smacking me in the face as I fight to keep a serious expression.
All things considered, I do pretty well, until Connor’s roar of laughter reaches me. He’s absolutely obnoxious as he howls, fist thumping against the tabletop. Tears streak down my face, my cheeks aching as I set the fan back and strut to the table.
His entire face is beet red when I drop into my chair, still giggling. It only intensifies when the bartender drops off two more shots “for the runway jitters.”
“Alright,” Connor says, swiping at his damp cheeks, “take a shot.”
We toss one back together. Our fingers brush as I set my empty glass down, and he grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together as we continue chatting.
It feels so open and unafraid, the way he holds my hand right there on the table for anyone to see.
It chips away at my weakening defenses, destroying another piece of this flimsy protective armor I’ve been trying to keep intact.
We toss a few more dares back and forth, and by the time we take our fourth shot, I’m fuzzy and exhilarated—drunk on the alcohol and completely intoxicated by his presence.
Connor gets louder with every drink, his booming voice carrying much farther than he realizes. “Okay, Tai, I dare you… no, I double…” He hiccups, pulling his fist to his mouth to cover it. “I double dare you to sing karaoke.”
A smirk crosses my lips as I lean forward, resting my elbow on the table. “That’s what you want?”
“Yes!” he bellows, turning several heads our way.
I chuckle as I stand and walk over to him. His eyes never leave me as I drop into his lap and press a kiss to his cheek. A heavy exhale leaves his nose as his hands settle on my hips.
“You’re sure about that?” I taunt.
“Positive.” His gravelly whisper feels like fingernails dragging across my scalp, and I shudder.
“Alright, chippoke,” I tease. “You just sit pretty, okay?”