Grayson
. . .
TWELVE
I think Maisie was a temptress in another life. Who am I kidding, in this life too. The way her tongue darts out to lick the single drip of whiskey is downright pornographic. My dick twitches in my pants. I think about the horse shit Maisie shoveled earlier to not pop a boner.
I didn’t think she would down another shot. I should have known this little troublemaker will do anything to prove a point. I learned that lesson when she fondled my ass to get her beer.
She sways in her boots with that smug smile on her face I want to kiss right off.
It’s obvious she’s had quite a bit of booze tonight already.
I was about to beat Chesney's ass for drinking and driving with her, but I should have known that’s a hard rule of his.
He’s always been very verbal about his loathing for drinking and driving.
Maisie spins in a circle with her arms out, just barely tripping over her own feet. “How’d I do, cowboy?” she says with a sexy rasp to her voice.
My eyes dip down to her round ass as it spins by.
It looks edible in her little jean getup.
It’s tight in all the right places, hugging her curves like a glove before tapering out into bellbottoms. She’s wearing a ridiculous pair of pastel pink cowgirl boots.
She looks like she’s walking on cotton candy clouds.
They might just be the cutest things I’ve ever seen.
“My eyes are up here, pal,” she hollers with a flirty wink.
God, that mouth of hers is going to get her in trouble.
She’s on one tonight, and it’s taking everything in me not to play right back.
What I wouldn’t give to tell her every dirty, filthy thing running through my mind, that, under different circumstances, I would do to her right here in the goddamn bathroom.
I wouldn’t be able to make it home, not with this woman.
She was made for me, drawn up from every wet dream I’ve ever had since puberty.
My eyes collide with two of my new favorite colors, and the wind is knocked from me. I crack my neck, taking a step forward. Her breath hitches when I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Now I’m curious what else your throat can take.”
I’m done for when Maisie whimpers under her breath. I leave her with that and walk to the bar to get a water from Hunter. I force the glass into Maisie’s hand. “You should drink this.”
Maisie gives me a mock salute and brings the glass to her lips. “Yes, daddy.” She downs the whole glass, her tongue licking around the edge to clean it dry.
Fuck me. What did I do to deserve this forbidden fruit dangled in front of me? I add another tally to the list of punishments that sinful mouth of hers has earned her.
The adrenaline injection has me fatigued and dizzy, and the loud music isn’t helping. I still find a smile on my face, due to her.
When I return with another water, I find a very drunk Maisie bobbing her head to the music.
“I loveeeeee this song,” she shouts dramatically.
“Who wants to dance?” She looks to Chesney first, finding him texting away on his phone, his brows furrowed.
She looks my way next. I internally groan, knowing what’s coming.
“How about you, cowboy? Bring your dancing boots?” She waggles her eyebrows.
How the hell am I supposed to say no to that?
“Left them at home, unfortunately.”
Do I like to dance? On occasion, but I know if my hands get to touch her, I won’t be able to stop myself. I can’t cross that line.
Maisie crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, come on. You two are nooo fun. Biggest bunch of party poopers I’ve ever met. The poopiest of the partiers. Ha!” She giggles to herself until she doubles over with laughter.
Note to self: Maisie is the opposite of a mean drunk. She’s fucking adorable, like a teddy bear. She reminds me of Nova like this, and my heart pangs. God, she would fit into our little family so well, it practically hurts to envision.
“Maybe someone else wants to dance with me,” she mumbles to herself.
I don’t want another man's hands on her, especially when she’s drunk. “No.”
She doesn’t find my refusal very amusing, rolling her eyes in a move that could win her an Emmy. “Fine! I’m going to the little girls room then.” I narrow my eyes on her. “I have the bladder of a squirrel, I’ll have you know.”
I can't hold my amusement back as I watch her stomp over to the bathroom, her hips swaying in the most tempting way. All the men in the bar track her like a hawk.
“Who are you in a phone fight with?” I ask Chesney when I find him typing out another long paragraph.
His head whips up. “It’s nothing. Just checking in with the vet to make sure we’re still on for vaccines and checkups later this week.”
“I didn’t know long love confessions were a part of that,” I joke.
The humor does not land. Chesney slides his phone into his back pocket, his face hard. “You gonna tell me why your face looks like a punching bag?” I shake my head once. “Right, so don’t go meddling in my business then.”
I throw my hands up. “Note taken,” I laugh, drawing him in for a side hug. My eyes snag on something pink flying around the dance floor, and I have to do a double take. “What the fuck!”
Chesney whirls, tracking my line of sight before his face turns to stone. Seems like he’s just as protective over Maisie as I am. “Motherfucker!” he mumbles, stomping over to the dance floor with me hot on his heels.
“You are soooo good at this,” Maisie squeals. The man she’s slung on whips her out to spin. Before he can yank her back, I step in to catch her. She throws her palms up to brace herself on my chest, her wide eyes sparkling under the lights. “Busted,” she whispers.
“Fuck,” Chesney mutters behind Maisie, scowling at his screen. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder mouthing you good? I wave him off with a nod, and he storms off.
“If you wanted to dance, you should have said so,” I rasp in Maisie’s ear, smooth as the whiskey she’s been indulging in all night.
Her face sours. “Ha-Ha, real funny, mister.” She shoves me, but I grab her wrists, holding them to my chest.
“One dance, and then I’m taking you home.”
She wets her lips. “I thought you didn’t bring your dancing boots?”
“I just found them.”
“How conven-nanet,” she sings drunkenly under her breath.
I look over her shoulder at the scowling cowboy I stole her from. “Get lost, buddy.” He flips me off and finds another girl to dance with.
“That wasn’t very nice. Not nice at all.” She taps me on the chest. Her hands mindlessly play with the fabric of my shirt.
“When did you ever get the impression I was a nice man, honey?”
She huffs, blowing a curl from her face.
“You’re right. It wasn’t very nice making me feel up your Greek god-chiseled ass in front of my family.
I had to change my freaking underwear after.
” Her hands fly to her mouth before letting out a cute hiccup.
“Forget I said that. Remember, strictly friendssss,” she whispers, throwing up air quotes with her fingers.
My jaw grinds. I know I said it, but Maisie is the last person I want to be just friends with. It’s the last thing I should do, but I won’t stop myself. We can pretend for one blissful moment. I pull her into my chest, matching the beat of the slow country song as I sway us.
Her warm skin against mine feels like it was made for me. I drop Maisie into a dip that has her laughing. My heart twinges, but I ignore the pain, soaking up each angelic laugh drawn from her lips. I’ll bottle them up and make them last a lifetime if I have to.
The song ends, and I find Maisie smiling in a drunken daze.
I wonder if she would notice if I took a picture to save this moment?
I can’t stand to let her go quite yet, so I pull her in for another song.
This one is more upbeat. I spin Maisie around the center of the dance floor like a lovesick puppy pining after her.
She hiccups again after I spin her a little too hard, so I slow us down, pulling her back into my chest. Her breaths mingle with mine, the smell of cherry flooding my nose until I’m drunk off it.
“I don’t think friends are supposed to dance like this,” she whispers, her eyes glued to mine, half-mast.
“Shhh. We can pretend for now.”
A small frown works its way onto her lips. “Pretend, yeah,” she mutters. “I’m good at that.”
I don’t like the sound of that. It makes me wonder if she’s harboring secrets that eat her alive like I do.
Pain sees pain, and that’s what I see reflected on her gorgeous face.
The world can be cruel, but it can also be giving.
It feels like Maisie was a peace offering for all the evil that’s taken residence in me recently.
The song ends, blending into an even higher-tempo song. I still can’t draw myself away from her, especially when I spot a cute smile on her face.
“This song is my jammmm,” she screams, a dimple popping out on her cheek. I want to bottle that up too.
For how drunk she is, I’m impressed by how solid she is on her feet.
Her boots tap in time to the beat, her hips swaying with each lyric.
An older gentleman links his arm in hers, spinning her in a circle and drawing a deep laugh from her before moving to the next.
She’s spinning on her own now, belting out the lyrics.
There would be no amount of money in the world to drag my eyes from her. She is a butterfly in a world full of moths, the only color I can see in a field of grays. No one single color could do Maisie justice. She is her own blend, a mixture of every hue to create a rainbow of perfection.
“Your turn,” she screams, pointing her finger at me.
I can’t say no to this woman. I start by slowly tapping my foot and then pretend to throw a lasso around her body. I begin to pull the invisible rope, and Maisie plays along and hops towards me. She lets out a beautiful laugh when I lift her up to spin us, Dirty Dancing style, and then dip her low.