I pour myself a vodka cranberry, deciding that, if she and Asher aren’t unglued by the time I’m done with this, I’ll get my own cab back to the hotel.
When I look up from my drink, Nate Crane is sauntering toward me. He takes my fingertips, lifts them to his lips, and then actually kisses the back of my hand. Who does that? And who the hell knew the gesture could be so sexy?
He’s in no hurry to release me, and I’m in no hurry to ask him to.
“Did you watch the show?” he asks.
“I did.”
“So?”
“So what?” I smile.
He looks almost insecure, like he’s seeking approval for something the world has applauded him for a thousand times over.
“What was your favorite song?”
“I really love ‘Unbreak Me.’” I have to bite back my smile when I name one of Asher’s songs and not one of Nate’s. The truth is that the song that rocked my world, the one that had me sitting at the side of the stage, my jaw slack, and chills racing up my arms, was Nate’s song “Lost in Me.” Tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it. It’s a hit, and they play it on the radio all the time—almost as often as “Unbreak Me”—but tonight was the first time I’ve heard it live. Tonight was the first time I watched Nate’s face as he sang the words, the pain ripping across his features like the lyrics weren’t words but blades digging into his skin.
“I also really liked ‘Unforgiven,’” I say, naming another of Asher’s songs.
Nate narrows his eyes. “If you don’t want to talk to me, you can just say so.”
I shrug. “If you want me to stroke your ego, you can just say so.”
His lips curl in amusement, and he steps closer. “My ego could use a good stroking, now that you mention it. But not by just anyone.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a moan and drops his gaze to the little hint of cleavage revealed above the neckline of my dress. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to show a lot of cleavage, but it’s kind of hard to avoid in anything that doesn’t accommodate an undershirt, and this black dress definitely doesn’t accommodate anything.
Nate lifts his eyes back to mine and sends a thrill rushing through me. Hot eyes. Hungry. I’m experienced enough to know those are the eyes of a man who has sex on the brain. Sex with me.
“You really have a boyfriend?”
I shift awkwardly. “Hard to believe?”
“Hard to believe he’d not want to be as close to you as possible when you’re dressed like that.”
My eyes seek out Maggie, but she’s in the corner straddling Asher’s lap and definitely not paying me any mind.
Saying the words out loud—saying that Max and I broke up—makes it too real, and I’m not ready for that. When I bought the dress to wear tonight, I thought Max would be by my side. I wouldn’t have had the courage to buy it at all if I hadn’t seen the heat in his eyes as I stepped out of the dressing room. That had been real, hadn’t it? And the way he responded when I touched him? Can guys fake that?
“Here…” Nate leads me over to the bar. He takes my drink from my hand and dumps it in the sink. After rinsing my glass tumbler, he fills it halfway with clear liquid.
“What’s that?”
“Tequila blanco. The good stuff.”
“You trying to get me drunk?” Not that I’d mind. A drunken night with Nate Crane? I could go for that. Especially after the week I had.
“It’s for me,” he grumbles. He shoots back the alcohol in two long swallows, watching me the whole time. When he puts the glass back on the counter, he says, “My consolation prize, since I don’t get to spend my night seducing you.”
“Why not?”
Our eyes lock, and I’m not sure who’s more shocked, him or me. I wrap my fingers around the glass, resting my hand over his for a moment before I pull it away. Something pulses between us, electric and hungry.
After grabbing the tequila, I add a generous shot to the glass. Not as much as he had, but enough to take away my worries for a bit when the heat hits my veins.