Chapter 5 #2
“Two shots . . . wait . . .” I pause, looking down at my fingers with my brows scrunched, ticking off how many we need on each finger.
Do we take one before and one shot after?
After would be before. I’m so confused right now.
Why is mathing so hard? “Four. No, six. Wait! Four. Yeah, four Patróns and a blowy shot.”
“You don’t want two blowjobs?”
“Nooo, no, no, no.” I shake my head laughing, the world spinning around me. “Only one. Can we use your bar? We have to do this.” I flash him the Bingo card.
He eyes it, then nods. “Grab your drinks and clear the bar!” he yells out as he and another bartender set out to move a few people out of my way.
“Jump up here, little lady,” the Yungblud look alike says patting the bar.
Carter grabs my hips and hauls me onto the bar top like I weigh nothing. My hands linger on his biceps a little too long before giving them a squeeze. His muscles flex under my palm, and my eyes flick up to his.
He shoots me a wink, and without his eyes leaving mine, he tells the bartender, “Patrón first.”
The bass thumps through the speakers, and my ass and thighs vibrate on the bar top as the bartender works to pour our drinks. Two shot glasses with clear liquid appear next to my thigh.
Carter grabs the shots and stands between my legs, passing one to me. I pretend I’m not thinking about how he would look fucking me on this bar top as I raise my glass. He clinks his glass with mine, then we toss them back.
One hand moves to my thigh, his thumb drawing small circles right below the hem of my denim shorts. His other hand comes up, and he trails a few fingertips across my collarbone.
“Lay back on the bar,” he says, his breath lingering with mine as he stares at my lips. “And open that pretty fucking mouth.”
A shiver racks my body, and I almost forget what we’re here for.
“Wait!” I wave my phone in the air. “Can someone record this?”
The bartender takes my phone as Carter leans me back and lifts my legs, placing them on the bar. I’m stretched out on the sticky surface, the cool wood under my back and legs. A shot glass presses against my lips, and I open, wrapping my mouth tightly around it.
“Alright bud, you’re up.”
Carter climbs up on the counter and moves between my legs; his thick thighs brush mine, nudging them apart.
One falls and dangles off the side of the bar.
Even in my state, I can imagine how this looks to the public, but I don’t care.
People cheer and whoop as his lips skim up my throat, making goosebumps spread all over my skin.
There’s a nagging throb between my legs as he presses into me; I can’t help but lift my hips to grind against him.
Holy fuck. My eyes flutter closed, and I release a moan around the glass.
Then his lips press to mine as he takes the shot glass from my mouth.
He raises up, the warmth of his body leaving mine, then he tilts his head back, swallowing down the liquor before dropping the shot glass into his open palm. That was so fucking hot!
Grabbing his shirt, I pull him back down, then lift my head so my lips can meet his.
He’s frozen at first. Then he returns my kiss, biting and sucking on my bottom lip before his tongue caresses mine.
He tugs on my lip again. Fuck. The man can kiss.
Sparks ignite. A current of electricity shoots straight to my core.
He tastes so good. Like amaretto and Irish cream.
Cheers and whistles bring us back to reality, and he breaks the kiss.
His icy-blue eyes, a little bloodshot, lock with mine. “You’re the sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”
He leans up, looking around at the crowd with a beaming smile on his face, and I’m left reeling.
Before I can think too much about what just happened, the bartender hands Carter my phone.
Carter hops down from the bar, places his hands on my hips, and lifts me before setting me back to my feet.
He slides my phone into my back pocket, then picks up both shot glasses the bartender pushed forward, and hands one to me.
“To my groom,” I yell, holding the shot in the air as we gain another round of cheers and applauses.
“Put all that on my tab,” someone calls out over the noise.
Carter’s brows pull together.
I toss my shot back, not even tasting the alcohol or feeling a burn anymore when the clear liquid slides down my throat.
“Stop frowning and take the shot.” I guide his glass toward his mouth until it presses to his lips. “We have to move our asses if we want to win this thing. Next up . . . a wedding chapel. We have to get married.”
“Let me see that.” He snatches the card out of my hand. A finger moves to each thing we’ve ticked off. “It’s all blurry,” he complains.
“Right there!” I tap the little square. “It says pose as bride and groom.”
Carter nods as he links our fingers, then leads us through the club. We try our best to avoid stumbling into people but fail miserably.
He lifts our hands, and I twirl, giggling when I nearly fall.
“Carter Graham,” I singsong, even though I doubt he can hear me over the music. I don’t care. I’m having a blast. “We’re winning this Bingo! And techniques . . . That’s not the right word. What’s the fucking word? I guess it could be a technique.”
I frown.
“Tech . . .” I try again. “Technicalities! Yes! Technicalities are not gettin’ our way! We’re gettin’ married, baby!”
“Hell of a proposal,” he says, barely making sense. “Wait! Proposal . . . that’s on our card too.”
I slide my phone out of my back pocket and shove it into the chest of a nameless stranger. “Can you video this?”
Without waiting for a response, I turn around and stumble back to Carter. Then, I drop to one knee. The crowd goes nuts, cheering and whistling as I look him in the eyes and ask, “Carter Graham. Will you marry me?”
“Well, Kitten, I thought you’d never ask.” He lifts me up in his arms and spins us around.
“Wait! Is that a yes?” I giggle.
He lowers my feet back to the ground. “That’s a hell yes.”