Cannon’s concerned voice pulls me from my brain, and I shake my head, smiling up at him as we head toward the bar on the other side of the hotel’s expansive lobby. “No. Of course not.”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze razor sharp. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”
“I would never lie to you,” I tell him sincerely, which is the truth. I’m not a liar. I never have been. Some people tell me I’m honest almost to a fault.
“Then you’re fibbing. You’re trying to cover up something.” He comes to a halt in front of the mostly empty, open front bar, causing me to stop walking as well. “I know what’s wrong.”
“You do?” My voice is hollow, and I clear my throat, reminding myself to look and seem positive. Confident.
“You’re nervous.”
I sigh, my shoulders slumping. All pretense of confidence floats away. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah, but don’t take that as an insult. I’m guessing you don’t usually do this sort of thing.” When I don’t speak, he continues, “Like hang out in hotel bars with random foreign dudes.”
“Foreign dudes?” I start to laugh. “No, I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”
More like I’ve never done this sort of thing. Not with a man I’ve met at a club, or on a blind date, and especially never while I was in school.
He takes a step closer, so close his chest is almost pressed to mine. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want to do this, I can arrange for a car to take you home.” When I say nothing, he carries on. “I don’t want you uncomfortable.”
My heart melts. He is the sweetest. “Let’s go have a drink,” I say as I reach for both of his hands and hold them in mine.
His gaze never wavers. “Are you sure?”
My brows shoot up. “Are you trying to convince me to leave?”
His answer is swift, his smile…adorable. “Hell no.”
“Buy me a drink then.” I return his smile, and without warning, he leans down, brushing his mouth against mine so quickly, I could almost imagine the kiss didn’t happen.
But it did. And the touch of his soft, warm lips on mine sends a shockwave throughout my whole body, all the way to my toes.
We stay in the hotel bar for over an hour, until we’re the only people left and the bartender is sending us not-so-subtle get out of here looks as he repeatedly wipes down the counters, his arm working in furious circles.
“We should go,” I tell Cannon, my voice reluctant, my gaze lingering on his expressive face. It’s been such a joy talking with him. Smiling when he smiles, laughing when he laughs, touching him when he touches me.
His touches aren’t too forward, and neither are his words, and for once in my life, I want a man to be more forward. I get the sense, though, that he’s reining himself in, for fear I might scare easily? I’m not sure.
I’ve given him all the signs. I’m flirty. I touch his arm a lot. Once I had another drink in me, I dared to touch his knee. Three times. His thigh, twice.
And let me just say his thigh was rock hard and so incredibly warm. My cheeks are heating just thinking about it.
“You’re blushing,” Cannon says, humor lacing his voice. I meet his gaze, a nervous laugh escaping me before I look away. “And you have to tell me why.”
“It’s too embarrassing.” I wave a hand, my fingers almost brushing his nose, we’re sitting so close. The low armchairs in the back of the bar allow for very intimate conversation. I’m sure it was purposely planned.
“Now you definitely have to tell me why.” He reaches out, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin and making me shiver. “Come on. Don’t hold out on me.”
I decide to draw this out. “Do you really want to know?”
“Hell yeah I do,” he says without hesitation.
Tipping my head closer to him, I lean in, my gaze zeroed in on his. “I was remembering what your—thigh felt like earlier, when I touched you.”
“Really.” His voice is gruff, and his eyes flare with heat.
I nod. “Really.”