I tried not to show how turned on I was that he had just quoted lyrics from one of my favorite songs.
Setting his shot glass down, he put his hand in his pocket. “So, does this mean you forgive me?”
His voice was strong, but soft, and made him even more tempting. I found myself thinking that he was not only adorable, but unlike anyone I had ever encountered before. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I had a boyfriend that I loved waiting for me.
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” I was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation and honestly had no idea what the apology was for.
He shifted on his feet. “You know what. Never mind,” he muttered in my ear. His warm breath brushed my neck and I wanted to feel it everywhere.
Looking me up and down, he changed the subject. “What, no costume?”
Continuing our dangerous flirtation, I glanced down, motioning with my hands from head to toe. “How do you know this isn’t my costume?”
While tugging on my T-shirt and pulling me a little closer, he seductively whispered, “If that’s your costume you’re definitely taking first place in the contest because it’s the sexiest one I’ve ever seen.”
We were silent for a minute; not even our heavy breathing could be heard. The noise from the bar and the crowd around us had quieted, but his words, his touch, they inflamed me, excited me, and sent fire through my veins.
“Where’d you get this, anyway?” he asked, tugging at the knot on my shirt, pulling me closer.
It felt like the room was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was him, the alcohol, or the fact that he had just asked me a question I didn’t want to answer. “My dad managed the Greek and was a collector of concert T-shirts,” I said, trying to push back the emotions welling up inside me.
He seemed to understand my hesitation before nodding, clearing his throat, and once again changed the subject. “So, have you ever seen Foreigner play?” he asked, now pointing to his own shirt and grinning.
As I looked at the bold white letters across his chest, I pushed aside my sadness and refocused on our conversation. We were just two people who had a lot in common—or at least that was what I wanted to think. When our drinks were gone, he ordered another round. As I finished the shot, I accidentally slammed the glass on the bar, and the bartender glowered at me. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
River reached out and grabbed a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. He very slowly tucked it behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Circling his index finger around my ear, he lightly tugged on my lobe. He sparked a fire in me that never before existed.
Gulping the drink I didn’t need to be drinking, I hoped to extinguish the flame. I hoped no one had seen him touch me that way. Ben would be fucking furious. He was ridiculously jealous. We had many arguments about other men, all unjustified. At least until now.
As the strobe lights started to flicker and I leaned my hip against the bar for support, he put his hand on my waist and turned me so my back was against the bar. I wondered if he noticed me almost lose my balance from the flashing lights and drunkenness. Moving to stand directly in front of me, he put his hands on either side of me and pressed his palms into the bar. He was enveloping me, but I didn’t feel trapped. I didn’t know what I felt, but I knew my heart was pounding out of my chest; my stomach was doing flips, and I became light-headed as goose bumps emerged on my skin.
I thought he was going to kiss me as he stared intently into my eyes. I closed my eyes preparing for it but I felt him abruptly pull away. Immediately, I heard a high-pitched voice squeal, “River, don’t forget we’re leaving right after the show,” and before I could catch a glimpse of the girl, she bounced away.
Smirking at me he said, “My little sister has the worst timing.”
I was going to respond when I heard a drumroll echo through the bar. Glancing around, I tried to figure out what it was for. Amused, he rolled his eyes before looking at the stage and then back to me. “That would be for me,” he laughed, leaning in so we were face-to-face. “They want me back onstage. I’ve gotta go unless you’d rather I stay and we finish what we started? Because that certainly would be way more fun.”
I really hadn’t heard anything he said, but everything seemed to finally make sense. He was the voice I heard when I came into the bar. He was so charming, so captivating, and so aware of me. I was pretty sure I was drunk because I was feeling things I should not have been feeling. As I stared into his powerful green eyes, I knew I should’ve been trying to escape them.
Before I could say anything in response, he moved his head slightly back, lifted my hand, and slowly kissed it. Then he leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Guess not. Not yet, anyway.” My hand was on fire, my ear scorched.