“Well, you’re not gonna kick mine. I’ve been sinking balls like a pro since we got here.”
“Well, of course, I didn’t mean your ass, dumbass. I meant Henny’s. Come on.”
As I start wrangling glasses off the bar, my gaze finds Georgina’s on the other end of the bar. Instantly, my blood flash-boils at the way she’s looking at me—like she wants to suck my dick. I smile, and Georgina looks away, her face blushing crimson. And, just this fast, I know a certain something about Little Miss Georgina Ricci... I’m not sure how much of my exchange with the blonde Georgina overheard, but I’m pretty sure it was enough for her to realize I’m maybe more of an asshole than she’d previously thought... Which is okay. Because, based on the heated look Georgina just flashed me before looking away, she very much likes assholes. Oh yeah, based on that scorching hot smolder, Little Miss Sexy-as-Fuck Georgina Ricci likes assholes... a whole fucking lot.
Chapter 12
Georgina
I put my phone down and sneak another peek at Reed across the crowded bar. For the past forty-five minutes, while I’ve been busy working, he’s been playing pool with his two buddies. And looking scrumptious while he does. I shouldn’t feel this attracted to the guy. Not when I’ve got a strong hunch he’s actually a big ol’ prick. A charming one, for sure. A sexy one. But a prick nonetheless. And yet, I can’t help myself. My attraction to him isn’t admirable. But it’s primal and raw and, apparently, not going to subside until I scratch my freaking itch.
A customer flags me down, and I peel my eyes off Reed’s hard ass to tend to him. When I’m done, I glance at Reed again, salivate over his ass for a bit—also, his forearms, biceps, and profile—and then grab my phone to find out if Alessandra has replied to my most recent text. She has.
Alessandra: It’s not RR’s fault that girl cried. All he said is he doesn’t accept unsolicited demos. Which, btw, comes as no surprise to me. (I told you so.)
Me: That’s all I HEARD him say to her. After I walked away, he said a lot more I couldn’t hear. And, whatever it was, it made her run away crying. Is that what he’s going to do to me when I give him your demo? Make me cry?
Alessandra: Not if he wants to have sex with you, which he obviously does.
Me: He should be nice to people, whether he wants to sleep with them or not.
Alessandra: He can’t take every demo shoved at him, G. He’d suffocate underneath an avalanche of plastic.
Me: Well, I’m going to make him take yours, if it’s the last thing I do. The only question is... WHEN should I bring it up? Tonight? And if so, before or after we have sex? Or should I gamble that I’ll see him when he gets back from NYC and do it then? Gaaaah!!! DECISIONS, DECISIONS!!!
Alessandra: Follow your gut. As long as you promise not to prostitute yourself to help me, I’m happy.
Me: Dude. If you could see his ass right now, you’d know my desire to sleep with RR has absolutely nothing to do with you and your demo.
It’s the truth. In fact, having Alessandra’s demo in my purse has become the bane of my existence. An albatross around my neck. Although, of course, I’d never tell that to Alessandra. My phone buzzes again, and I look down.
Alessandra: Send me an ass photo, please.
Chuckling, I take yet another surreptitious photo of Reed, this one while he’s bending over the pool table, and send it off to my stepsister. And then I glance at the clock. It’s two minutes until midnight. Holy crap. Is Reed really planning to do something at midnight, like he said before? He did call me Cinderella, after all, but that was almost an hour ago... My phone buzzes again.
Alessandra: Dat ass! OMG!
Me: I know. I’ve been wiping drool off my chin all night. Hey, why aren’t you sleeping? It’s almost 3:00 there.
Alessandra: I couldn’t sleep now if my life depended on it. I’m dying to see what’s going to happen at midnight, Cinderella.
Me: Probably nothing, considering RR is no Prince Charming.
“Georgie,” a male voice says, making me look up from my phone. It’s Bernie, the owner of the bar... accompanied by none other than Reed and Reed’s two friends.
“Oh, hi,” I say lamely. I glance at the clock. Midnight on the button. “I didn’t know you were coming into the bar tonight, Bernie.”
Bernie claps Josh on his shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on it, but then I got a call from this guy. Hey, Marcus! Come here!”
As we await Marcus, I glance at Reed, and the look of molten lust on his face sends arousal whooshing between my legs.