Page 104 of Slow Burn (Driven 5)
And I feel like I’ve scored a touchdown when I see her eyes widen, take note of the quick intake of breath. Interesting. Playing field seems to be wide-open. Good thing I’m a patient man because this woman most definitely does not sit on the sidelines.
“Sweet is good,” she leans in and says in my ear, her w
ords a whisper, “but some girls like a little spice added in.” She leans back and flashes me a smart-ass grin, tossing the ball back in my court. Goddamn if it’s not hot that her comebacks are as witty as her tits are perfect.
“City, I assure you I have talents that can’t be put on a résumé.” I take a drink and raise an eyebrow, failing miserably to hide my smirk. “Besides, it’s not the sugar or the spice that matters but rather the man who’s mixing it.”
We stare at each other for a moment in a silent standoff, as we try to figure out what the other is saying. Is there interest here? Would it be worth it? Damn, who cares? Because she most definitely would be one helluva wild ride.
A slow, knowing smirk curls up one corner of her mouth. The music changes and becomes more seductive as she shakes her head ever so subtly. “City?” she asks, and then runs her tongue over her top lip as her eyes taunt me.
My mind goes blank as I focus on her mouth. Shit, I need to play this safe. For all I know, this is just how she is with everyone, a little flirty and a whole lot of fun. After all, it can’t get more complicated than going after the best friend of my best friend’s girl.
I look out at the floor again, bodies grinding, connections being made even if only for the night, before I look back at Haddie, her eyebrows raised and her body so on fire that my dick begs to fly full staff. It’s probably just me. And the alcohol. And the influence of the club around me.
It’s probably nothing.
But then again, damn.
Just damn.
I can’t resist. If I can’t reach out and touch, I might as well leave a mark with my words. Let her think about how a laid back country boy might not be such a bad thing after all. “Yeah, City,” I repeat. “Classy, nonstop, and always wanting to be in the thick of it all.” I take a drink, my eyes locked on hers while she watches, contemplating what I’ve said.
“The thick of it, huh?” She takes my drink from my hand again and smirks as she sucks ever so slowly from the straw.
And once again, my eyes are drawn to those lip-glossed lips of hers and notice how they are drawing on my straw. So that’s why they put straws in men’s drinks. I have a whole new appreciation for those annoying little fuckers now. I watch her tongue play with it momentarily and realize that part of the reason she’s so damn sexy is because she’s not purposely trying to be.
Something catches her eye, and I follow her head as she turns to watch Colton lead Rylee up the stairs toward the mezzanine. At least I don’t have to worry about him sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong now. When I look back toward Haddie, she’s moved toward me, her face closer to mine. I can smell the scent of the alcohol from my drink on her breath, and hell if I can understand why that makes me want her that much more.
“Yep. Always wanting to be in the middle of the action,” I say, lifting the straw out of my drink and taking a sip.
Haddie twists her lips until the smirk breaks its way through. “Action’s always good. Being in the middle of it’s even better.” She arches an eyebrow at me as I try to figure out what her next words are going to be but remain silent. It’s time to let her wonder what I’m thinking for a change. I hold her gaze, the swirling lights overhead changing color and reflecting in her blond hair. “And I think I’m wanting some right now.”
I force a swallow, those taunting yet innocent words of hers causing a visceral reaction that I try to ignore. “What kind of action are you looking for?” There. Let her figure out if I’m flirting or if that’s just how I am, because I can’t tell shit with her. And fuck, I can always figure everyone out. So what’s so different about her?
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns and looks over her shoulder. “You coming?”
And fuck … there are so many ways my mind answers that question that I groan. I swallow over the ache that our flirting and her damn, fine ass in perfect view creates. “You know what they say?”
“What?” she asks, stopping momentarily, “Every good man’s place is behind a woman?”
I chuckle. That most definitely was not where I was going with this conversation, but there she goes again, wanting me to take the bait. “The only reason for a man to be behind a woman is because he’s checking out her very fine ass.” And hell if that’s not the truth right now.
She licks her lips and I have a hard time looking away from her tongue as it darts out and then back in. “Haven’t had any complaints so far, Country,” she says with a shake of her head, her hair swaying all the way down her back. “And … uh … there are many more places I’d prefer a man to be,” she says with a wink before turning and walking into the crowd, without even checking to see if I’m following.
Yeah, on top of you. Or under. Or … Shit, my mind reels with the possibilities.
She may think I’m slow and steady but hell if I’m stupid.
Time to dance.
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SWEET ACHE
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