Well. Why not? She finished her drink and tossed the cup onto the grass alongside about eleven million other cups, then looped her arms around his neck and moved to the soft beat. He had rhythm, and she tried not to be impressed by his hips and the way they moved in sync with hers.
It’d been a long time since she’d been out without an agenda. Whenever she’d dated before, she’d spent most of the evening trying to anticipate what her date might do next, and further anticipate if she would turn him down or accept. She tried to decide if Brice would attempt to kiss her at the end of the night, and guessed he would, and decided to oblige him. Harmless kisses between potential business partners.
Hmm. That might be the whiskey talking…
“You made it!” Brice called out, making her jump.
Her eyes snapped open and she was released from Brice’s hold so quickly, she had to adjust her weight to keep from toppling over. She pushed her hair out of her face to say, Thanks a lot for the warning, but found herself faced with Asher and, next to him, Evan.
“I was hoping you’d come out.” Brice clapped Asher’s shoulder. “Wasn’t sure if you’d get the invite in time.” The band’s set ended and the crowd cheered. Brice paused in his greeting to Asher to whistle through his teeth. Gloria joined him, clapping halfheartedly, still perturbed that Brice’s priority and attention had refocused on Asher.
“Looks like I’m too late,” Ash said, his eyes boring into hers.
“Nah. They’ll take thirty minutes and come back out. You’re just in time to hear the last set,” Brice said, oblivious to the silent conversation happening in his midst.
“Might be right on time,” Evan said, hiking one eyebrow high enough to scold her.
Gloria wrinkled her nose. Whatever. She didn’t owe either of her clients an explanation for what she did off the clock.
“Drinks on me,” Brice said. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll come with,” Evan offered. “Glo?”
“Whiskey sour.”
“Just whiskey,” Asher corrected. “I’ll have the same.”
She nodded at Evan, and he and Brice made their way through the crowd—which hadn’t thinned even a little despite the band leaving the stage—and walked in the direction of the bar. Gloria figured they’d get back about the time the band took the stage again, which left her with Asher in the interim.
“I didn’t realize you were invited,” she said over the melee.
“I see that.” The corners of his mouth turned down.
“Why did he invite you?” she asked, curious.
“He wants me,” Asher said, a bored expression on his face.
“No. He wants me.” She pressed her fingers into her chest.
Asher leaned closer to speak to her and it took everything in her not to back away a step. Him close had a way of messing with her equilibrium…even more than the whiskey.
“I meant he wants to sign the band, Sarge. He’s probably buttering you up to get to me.”
“What?” she asked, slightly offended. “How egotistical are you?”
“I’m not being egotistical,” he said. “That’s a fact. And you’re welcome.”
Oh, he was too much. “I’m welcome?”
“Yeah. Now that I’m here, you won’t have to touch him. He won’t get within three feet of you.” Stubble lined his jaw, fire burned in his eyes, and he stood close enough that his body heat blanketed her. “Promise.”
“Listen, Asher”—she cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from his biceps, which were absolutely delicious and testing the limits of his T-shirt in the most distracting way possible—“I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”
“No, you listen.” He palmed her hip much like Brice had earlier, but unlike Brice, when Asher touched her, her nipples perked up and every inch of her grew warm. Asher’s nearness, one hand gripping her firmly as he looked down at her with dark hunger in his eyes, was so hot she couldn’t think.
The crowd milling around them were having loud, drunken conversations, so he lowered his face to her ear to speak.
“I’m coming for you, Sarge.” His hand moved from her hip to her lower back, his fingers splaying wide and slipping beneath the material of her shirt. “Bet you’ve never had anyone come for you, have you?” His nose moved along her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “Bet you were a rebellious teen with a nose ring and a bad attitude and all you wanted was to feel good.”
No nose ring, but the rest was scarily accurate.
“Well, guess what, honey?” he continued, his fingertips sizzling on her bare skin. “I’m going to make you feel good. I’m the only one who can.”
He pulled his face away and she had to will her mouth to close. Her teeth clacked together as her brain scrambled to figure out what part she should argue with first. Wrenching a fist around his T-shirt, she tugged him close. A small smile played on his mouth, and his hand went higher beneath her shirt. He was anticipating a kiss, but she wasn’t going to kiss him.