Blame it on the Vodka (Blame it on the Alcohol)

Locking my smile firmly in place, I ignored the warmth that had followed me since I walked in, knowing it was the brooding stranger’s gaze. He no longer existed to me, and I headed to the dance floor to prove it.

One hour later, and I had option number two eating out of the palm of my hand. Was he as hot as Mr. Big and Arrogant? No, but he was better—if for no other reason than he was lucky enough to have his mind blown by me. I dragged him up the stairs and headed to a random door, hoping to find it empty. His tongue worked against my neck, and I already had plans for it elsewhere. A shiver slid down my body as I swung the door open. We stumbled through, only to find it occupied by a couple against the wall.

Rather than freeze, another shot of adrenaline hit me harder. One long leg wrapped around the guy’s waist as his hand worked between her legs. Looked like they were just getting started, and I could get down for some voyeurism.

At least, I thought I could until the door shut, pulling the guy’s attention over his shoulder, and familiar green eyes slammed into me.

“What the fuck?” I shouted. How dare he.

The guy’s brows shot up.

“Hey,” the girl shouted back, getting her leg down to stand tall and indignant. Pretty impressive, considering her dress still hung at her waist.

“Sorry to interrupt. You’re stunning and absolutely gorgeous. I mean, those tits. I could have a wild night with you any day,” I said with a wink. Then I shifted my attention back to the guy, dropping my smile. “But what the fuck?”

I did my best to build my fellow women up, and if I wasn’t so perplexed, I would have felt bad about cockblocking her.

“Uh, can we find another room?” Option Two muttered behind me.

“No. I’m busy,” I answered, not bothering to turn and face him.

“Whatever,” he muttered, leaving. Not that I cared. I was too focused on figuring out why the hell this guy turned me down.

“Do you mind?” Mr. Big and Arrogant asked.

“Yeah. I fucking do.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“Now, explain to me why you very obviously want to fuck, but still decided to turn me down.” That muscle in his jaw ticked again, and I knew there had to be an explanation just waiting to come out. Probably one he didn’t want to admit, but dammit, I needed to know. I just had to push a little harder to get it. “You would have been lucky to have me. I’m fucking awesome.”

A groan rumbled from deep in his chest and grew until it spilled from his gritted teeth. “Did you ever think I realized that, and that’s why you’re not some random girl up in a room with me for a quick fuck?”

“What?” the girl and I said in unison. Although, her screech drowned out my shocked gasp.

“Fuck this.” The girl shoved Mr. Big and Arrogant back and covered her chest.

Before she could storm out, I doled out another compliment because I was all about women supporting women despite the fact that I was chasing her off. “You’re amazing, by the way. Don’t let him get you down because you can do so much better.”

She narrowed her eyes but also gave a nod of camaraderie and understanding.

As soon as she left, I turned to find him buckling his pants. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

His words played on repeat like an echo, only serving to increase my confusion the more I thought about them. He didn’t want to fuck me because I was too awesome? I was so confused.

“Listen,” he started, running his hand through his short, dark blond hair.

God, he was hot. The way his arm flexed, testing the restraints of the black T-shirt—totally drool-worthy.

“I saw you across the room almost as soon as you entered.”

“I noticed.”

“Arrogant much?”

He smirked, throwing my words back at me from earlier, so I returned the favor. “Just honest.”

“Well, when I saw you…” He took a deep breath and looked me up and down, setting me on fire all over again. “Maybe I realized you’re more than just a fuck.”

Now it was my turn to wear the shocked look. Sure, I had lots of guys wanting more from me, but usually, it was more sex. I never gave them a chance to ask for more outside of that. Maybe if I cleared that up, we could move on. “Well, I don’t do more than fuck.”

His face pulled to a frown as if I was an intense math problem he wanted to solve. After an uncomfortably long time, he finally asked, “Do you do waffles?”

“What?” I shook my head, struggling to process the random question.

“Waffles. If I can’t fuck you, then I’m going to eat,” he explained with a shrug.