for some bizarre reason, maybe because Ifeel heavily subdued. Or maybe it’s because of Ethan. “You’ve barely said two words to me.”
“Actually, I think it was five,” he says indifferently, but the corners of his lips quirk. He picks up his glass of ice water and takes a sip.
“Since when do you drink water?” I remark and wrap my lips around the straw, taking a swallow of my drink.
“I think I need a break from drinking.” He ogles some blonde wearing a tacky leather skirt and a bright pink tube top at the bar and I have to resist the urge to slap him against the back of the head. “It’s getting exhausting.”
“I hear you,” I say and he crooks an eyebrow, staring at the drink in front of me. “No, not about drinking. About other stuff.”
“Like what?” He picks up a mozzarella stick and dips it into the cup of marina sauce.
“Like stuff,” I respond vaguely, and then reach for a jalapeno popper. It took me a while to actually try one, because the idea of eating something that had the word “popper” in it seemed repulsive. But they are really good. Way better than the appetizers at the restaurants I grew up eating at.
“Care to share the stuff?” He has a string of cheese on his chin from the mozzarella stick.
Biting my lip to restrain from smiling, I extend my arm across the table and pick it off, letting my fingertips graze the stubble on his chin, pretending it’s by accident, when really I just like touching him.
His brown eyes widen and his lips part as I lean back. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“You had cheese on your chin,” I explain, flicking it to the ground. He quickly wipes his chin with his hand and I laugh. “I just got it off. Duh.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just making sure you got all of it.”
I dip a stick into a cup of ranch. “I got it all, so relax. I would never let you walk around with cheese hanging off your face,” I tease. “Although, it would be kind of fun to watch you go hit on the slut over at the bar with cheese on your face.”
The corners of his lips quirk as he watches me chew and he leans back in his chair. “I’m sure I could still get her to let me fuck her.”
I throw a mozzarella stick at him, but he ducks so it misses his head. “You are such an ass.”
“Why? Because I say the truth.”
“In the foulest ways.”
“What? Saying
fuck
is foul?” he asks. “Would you rather me say
let me screw her
? Bang her? Let her ride me? Give her the hottest, sweatiest, lip bitingest, best orgasm she’ll probably have?” His voice is getting louder and people are watching us, which seems only to amuse him while it embarrasses me.
“Ethan, please keep it down,” I hiss, glancing at the tables around us, embarrassed, but a giggle escapes my lips. “People are watching us.”
“Do the dirty nasty with me?” he continues, unbothered, his brown eyes darkening as he leans back in his chair, watchingme with an arrogant grin on his face. “Fuck her brains out? Or should I just make the noises for you so you really get the picture?” He tips his head back, his black hair falling back out of his eyes, and he starts making little moans. Even though it’s embarrassing, it’s also turning me on. Especially how his lips hypnotically move and the way the light reflects in his eyes and makes them look lustrous.
Stop thinking about him like that. He made his rules for a reason.
Shaking my head and the near-orgasmic feeling out of my body, I lean over the table and cover his moaning lips with my hand. “Okay, I get the picture. Will you stop now?”
His grin broadens against my hand and I withdraw, sitting back down in the chair. “I win,” he says and winks at me.
I shake my head, but smile brightly. “For the record, fucking her and fucking her brains out are pretty much one and the same.”
He covers his mouth with his hand, containing his laughter, because he always seems to think it’s funny when I say the
F
word. In
“Actually, I think it was five,” he says indifferently, but the corners of his lips quirk. He picks up his glass of ice water and takes a sip.
“Since when do you drink water?” I remark and wrap my lips around the straw, taking a swallow of my drink.
“I think I need a break from drinking.” He ogles some blonde wearing a tacky leather skirt and a bright pink tube top at the bar and I have to resist the urge to slap him against the back of the head. “It’s getting exhausting.”
“I hear you,” I say and he crooks an eyebrow, staring at the drink in front of me. “No, not about drinking. About other stuff.”
“Like what?” He picks up a mozzarella stick and dips it into the cup of marina sauce.
“Like stuff,” I respond vaguely, and then reach for a jalapeno popper. It took me a while to actually try one, because the idea of eating something that had the word “popper” in it seemed repulsive. But they are really good. Way better than the appetizers at the restaurants I grew up eating at.
“Care to share the stuff?” He has a string of cheese on his chin from the mozzarella stick.
Biting my lip to restrain from smiling, I extend my arm across the table and pick it off, letting my fingertips graze the stubble on his chin, pretending it’s by accident, when really I just like touching him.
His brown eyes widen and his lips part as I lean back. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“You had cheese on your chin,” I explain, flicking it to the ground. He quickly wipes his chin with his hand and I laugh. “I just got it off. Duh.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just making sure you got all of it.”
I dip a stick into a cup of ranch. “I got it all, so relax. I would never let you walk around with cheese hanging off your face,” I tease. “Although, it would be kind of fun to watch you go hit on the slut over at the bar with cheese on your face.”
The corners of his lips quirk as he watches me chew and he leans back in his chair. “I’m sure I could still get her to let me fuck her.”
I throw a mozzarella stick at him, but he ducks so it misses his head. “You are such an ass.”
“Why? Because I say the truth.”
“In the foulest ways.”
“What? Saying
fuck
is foul?” he asks. “Would you rather me say
let me screw her
? Bang her? Let her ride me? Give her the hottest, sweatiest, lip bitingest, best orgasm she’ll probably have?” His voice is getting louder and people are watching us, which seems only to amuse him while it embarrasses me.
“Ethan, please keep it down,” I hiss, glancing at the tables around us, embarrassed, but a giggle escapes my lips. “People are watching us.”
“Do the dirty nasty with me?” he continues, unbothered, his brown eyes darkening as he leans back in his chair, watchingme with an arrogant grin on his face. “Fuck her brains out? Or should I just make the noises for you so you really get the picture?” He tips his head back, his black hair falling back out of his eyes, and he starts making little moans. Even though it’s embarrassing, it’s also turning me on. Especially how his lips hypnotically move and the way the light reflects in his eyes and makes them look lustrous.
Stop thinking about him like that. He made his rules for a reason.
Shaking my head and the near-orgasmic feeling out of my body, I lean over the table and cover his moaning lips with my hand. “Okay, I get the picture. Will you stop now?”
His grin broadens against my hand and I withdraw, sitting back down in the chair. “I win,” he says and winks at me.
I shake my head, but smile brightly. “For the record, fucking her and fucking her brains out are pretty much one and the same.”
He covers his mouth with his hand, containing his laughter, because he always seems to think it’s funny when I say the
F
word. In
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