Serves Me Wright

“I drink,” I countered. “Just…not a lot.”

“What do you think of the Lounge?”

“It’s…different.”

Chester snorted. “In the best way.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. We’re celebrating.”

“Where’s Margaret?”

His face soured at the mention of his girlfriend. “Not here.”

“Are you all right?”

“Peachy,” Chester said with a sigh.

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Julian touched my elbow. I was pushing Chester’s buttons the way he pushed mine. But I should let it go for now. It clearly wasn’t helping anything.

“Is that a number seven?” Chester asked, looking at the yellow drink in my hand.

“Yes,” Julian said. He held his drink up. “And a number five.”

“Good choices. Try a number twelve,” he said, his smile returning. “It’ll loosen you right up.”

“Chester, get in here!” the same guy who had pulled him into the room called. He was sitting in the tub in nothing at all.

My cheeks heated, and I quickly averted my gaze. I guzzled the rest of my drink. Yep. More alcohol.

I dropped the drink down. “I’ll take a twelve.”

Julian looked at the menu and frowned. “There’s eight shots in that. You’ll die.”

“Oh, wow. Eight?”

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?”

“What? Why?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You’re not comfortable here. I’m starting to think Chess brought you here, knowing you’d be uncomfortable.”

I met his dark gaze. “You don’t seem uncomfortable.”

Julian smiled, the look he gave me was licentious and inviting. “I can’t say that I mind being here with you, Jen.”

“Oh?” I whispered as the drink I’d finished buzzed around in my brain, slowing my response time.

“Can you honestly say you don’t feel it?”

“Feel what?”

He sighed. “Anything.”

I blinked at him. What was he asking? Whether or not I felt something for him? Wasn’t it the most obvious thing in the world? Could I be any more obvious about my feelings for Julian Wright? I didn’t think anyone in all of Lubbock was unaware that I’d been into him since the day I’d met him. That couldn’t be what he was asking.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head, disappointment clouding his handsome features. “Nothing. Do you still want the twelve?”

“Share it with me?”

“All right.”

He wrote it down on another slip of paper, and our drinks appeared again. He’d gotten me the twelve, as promised. Another number five sat on the tray for him as well.

That last drink must have been stronger than I’d thought because, suddenly, everything felt very warm. Very heady. My legs wobbled, and I could feel every one of my fingers, like little pins were pricking them. I blinked slowly and picked up the twelve.

When was the last time I’d been this drunk? I had no idea. I wasn’t really supposed to drink on my anxiety medication. They interacted in some way, so I avoided it. But it was a celebration, and then there were the naked people in a brothel bathtub. I’d needed the drink. Now, I was floating. And the eight-shot drink in front of me only helped along the feeling.

“How does this taste like a Dreamsicle?” I asked Julian, leaning into his broad chest.

His arm snaked around my waist. “You should go easy on it.”

“Mmhmm,” I purred, taking another sip.

Julian reached out and took the drink from my hand. He took a sip. “It does taste like a Dreamsicle. What even?”

I giggled and nodded. “Right?”

“Fuck, it’s good.”

My head tilted up toward him. His gaze swept to mine and held, intent and lustful. The space between us disappeared. Something passed between us. And I was drunk enough not to question it.

“Let me taste,” I whispered.

“You want a taste?”

I nodded. He slowly took another drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I listed into him as I traced the movement.

Then his head dipped down, finishing the descent. A pause, and everything stalled and went dark and heated. Those beautiful lips pressed against mine, soft and hard, all at the same time. His tongue flicked out, brushing against mine. The taste of Dreamsicle exploded in my mouth just from the barest touch of him.

I moaned, a deep, throaty thing that, any other time, I would be embarrassed by, but right now, I had no other thoughts than this: Julian Wright was kissing me. Really kissing me.

No stolen moments in his office to make his ex jealous. There was no one here for him to impress. No one, except me.

My fingers fisted into the front of his shirt as I came onto my tiptoes to try to get closer to that perfect mouth. He set the number twelve down before dragging me tight against him. His hands splayed wide against my back before sliding to my hips. My pelvis pushed forward an inch until I was tight against him, could feel exactly how he felt about me.

Our lips moved like a synchronized dance, as if we’d been doing this all our lives. He kept one hand on my hip while his other moved along my side and up to my stomach. My skin heated at every brush of him against my body. Then he was running fingers under my breast, along the underwire.