Mercedes notices what she’s just done and quickly drops her leg and turns toward the bar. Pursing her lips together, she demurely shimmies her skirt back down her thighs.
I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Really sexy.”
She clears her throat and turns to look at me. “So what are your real plans for tonight? Were you really just here with your buddy to hang? Or were you on the hunt?”
“On the hunt?” I question her phrase because it sounds funny coming from her.
“For tail!” she chirps, twirling in her seat to look at the bar that’s now filled to the brim. “For chicks. For a one-night stand that gets super awkward in the morning because she wants to make you pancakes and you want to chew your arm off and sneak out before she wakes up.”
I belly laugh at that very apt description. “Well, considering I was with my ex for the better part of my twenties, yeah, I guess I’m looking for casual.”
She nods intently, eyeing me down her nose. “I could tell that about you.”
“How?” I ask, disbelieving.
“You wear those T-shirts that show off your biceps.” She reaches out and snaps the material around my arm. “This can’t be comfortable. Why do you wear shirts like this?”
“This is how most shirts fit me.” I look down at her creamy legs. “And that little skirt you’re wearing is for comfort, I suppose?”
She shrugs innocently. “It’s stretchy.”
“Well, so are my shirts.”
We both laugh and take another drink.
“So what’s your type? What draws your eye? Gimme a hair color, something to work with.” She’s looking out at the people again like she’s seriously going to help me find someone to bang.
My gaze lingers on her hair, sliding down the smooth strands that fall softly over her chest. I clear my throat and reply, “Brunettes. My ex was a blonde. I’m over blondes. They do not have more fun.”
“Brunettes, it is. Let’s see.” She claps her hands and analyzes the crowd until her eyes land on someone. “Not my friend, Lynsey. She already dated our friend Dean, and it was so awkward for months after that.”
I eye her friends who are at a table with a few other people, and they don’t seem the least bit concerned that I’ve monopolized their friend for the evening. “Okay, friends are off-limits. That’s fair.”
“How about that one?” She points at a girl sipping on a cocktail in a corner booth. She’s trapped in by a couple of other girls who look like they are having a major bitchfest about someone.
“She’s swarmed by other chicks. I try to avoid the packs. They get awkward.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s always one friend who tries to cock block. One friend who tries to steal the guy. And another who’ll make her friend feel bad about herself for being a slut.”
“Man, girls can be mean.”
“You’re telling me.” I take a pull of my bottle. “What about you? Why aren’t you on the hunt? You said you were over your ex, right?”
“Oh, I totally am. He’s vile.”
“And your friend Dean isn’t a prospect?” I ask, feeling annoyed at the fact that I still seek that verification.
“No.” She shakes her head. “He reminds me of my brothers.”
I doubt your brothers touch you the way he did earlier.
She slaps her hand on her knee and bellows gallantly, “But you know what, Miles, you’re right! I should totally find a random hookup tonight.”
“Whoa, I never said anything about random.”
“Well, you’re doing it, so why can’t I?”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t seem like the random type.”
“Maybe I should be.” Her eyes narrow when she leans in and whispers against my lips. “Can I tell you a secret, Miles?”
“You can tell me anything, Mercedes.”
She giggles and crooks her finger for me to lean in even closer. I’m so close I can smell the faint scent of her cherry lip gloss, and it’s not helping the half boner having a party in my pants.
Her lips graze my ear when she whispers, “My writing makes me horny.”
I nearly choke on my beer. “I’m sorry, what?”
“My writing makes me horny.” She pulls back and nods her confirmation. “I’m serious. I have a sex toy that works really well and really fast, but I miss the heat of a man, ya know?”
My eyes scrunch together, and I rub my fingers in the sockets to make sure I’m awake and hearing this all correctly. “I mean…I don’t really ever miss the heat of man, so I don’t think I know exactly what you’re saying.”
“Fine, the heat of a woman.” She rolls her eyes dramatically “You know what I’m talking about. The heat.”
I frown and shake my head. “You’re going to have to elaborate because I think of a lot of things when I think of women, but their body temperature isn’t one of them.”
“You asked for it.” She laughs and leans in so she’s speaking low and soft and directly into my ear. “The heat of a woman is so much more than temperature. It’s the soft, sensual curves of the female form. The way your fingers dig into the meat of her thighs when she’s wrapped around you. Her smooth, sunken tummy when she’s on her back, the delicate bumps of her ribcage when she’s throwing her head back in pleasure. Tight little nipples in pillows of creamy softness. The fact that you could fold yourself around her and envelop her body almost entirely and still want more. You’re saying you don’t miss that kind of heat?”
I blink slowly, recovering from what just happened. Her voice was a sensual, verbal caress straight on my cock. Then there was the warm heat of her breath on my ear. The deep husk of her tone. The way her warm palm rests softly on my thigh.
Fucking hell.
My dick immediately went from a halfy to a fully, and I’m so turned on that I don’t even give a fuck.
“You totally write erotica,” I state, my voice deep and gravelly with arousal. I sit back and shake my head at her.
“Damnit!” She snaps her fingers in front of her, clearly annoyed that she let herself get carried away. “I didn’t want you to know!”
“Why not?” I nearly growl. “What’s the big secret?”
“Because it changes the way you look at me.”
“How so?”
“Well, you’ll either one, think I’m some kind of sex freak who’s super frickin’ experienced in the bedroom.”
“That’s completely accurate.” I laugh.
“See!”
“I’m kidding, go on.”
“Or two, you’ll be embarrassed by what I do and not want to tell anyone.”
“Are you joking?” I bark and lean forward to turn her face so she’s looking at me. She actually looks kind of sad, and that blows my damn mind.
“Well, your buddy doesn’t count. He’s probably a horn ball,” she corrects. “I mean, anyone that’s super important to you.”
“Fuck that,” I argue and shake my head adamantly. “Then you don’t know me at all, Mercedes.”
“I know your kind,” she retorts with a cocky edge to her voice like this doesn’t really bother her. But I can clearly see that it does. “You dudes are all alike. You want a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets.”
“Bullshit.”
She shrugs. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was a huge reason my ex and I broke up. He asked me to lie to his family about what I did for a living.”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
The shamed look on her face has my jaw clenches with rage. “Yeah, I thought it was weird that we’d been together for so long and he still hadn’t introduced me to his family. Then his sister was getting married, and he sort of had to bring me to the wedding. That was when he asked me to tell everyone that I wrote cozy mysteries.”
“What a fucker.” I growl and take a huge gulp of my beer to try to tamp down my rage.