Wow. I really need to get laid.
“You’re good with vodka soda?” the object of my sex dreams asked, looking back at me with a devilish glint in his blue eyes. I hadn’t even noticed the bartender had asked for our order.
“Perfect,” I said.
He turned back to the bar, and I turned back to imagining how good this guy would feel bouncing up and down on my lap.
Fuckin’ hell.
2Oliver Brightly
Oh,honey.
Honey, honey, honey,honnnnney.
What a mess I’d gotten myself into. Here I was, thousands of miles away from home, flirting with a complete and total silver fox of a stranger who had managed to twist my briefs into a bunch with a single smoldering stare.
Now say that sixty-nine times fast.
I didn’t even tell him my real name! That part was a little exciting, not gonna lie. It wasn’t my idea. It was William’s, the best friend who’d dragged me to the other side of the globe with him. And I say dragged in the most loving of ways. If it weren’t for him, I would have been holed up in my apartment binging on old seasons ofStar TrekandVeronica Marswhile I counted down with increasing dread the days for my summer break to be over.
So thank you, Will, and thankyou, random silver fox who sauntered right out of my wildest dreams. Because wow…Wow.This man was hot. Like leagues above anything else I’d ever seen. He had a head of silver hair, thick enough to run my hands through and styled impeccably. He owned a pair of eyes that held me prisoner: green and dusted with golden flecks. His face was strong, his shoulders held high and confident. But he wasn’t intimidating. Not to me at least. I could see the wrinkles that came from smiling often and laughing freely. And there was a warmth in his smile that made me feel all kinds of comfortable. Like I’d just stepped into a friend’s cozy home and that friend happened to be a star baker who had ovens filled with rising dough.
Yeah, that’s how he made me feel.
“Beckham,” he had said when he introduced himself, offering a hand that I wanted to grab and lick. Weird, sure. But would it get the point across?
Definitely.
Instead of licking, I managed to shake, miraculously keeping my tongue from lolling out of my gaping mouth. Beckham was tall, and he had arms that looked like they could spin me around and around until I dug a hole down to the center of the earth.
And I was currently rubbing my ass up on him like my grandma’s twelve-year-old terrier who’s constantly in heat.
Iwas in heat, that was for sure. I fully felt like I’d been placed in a scorching hot oven, the heat burning me from the outside in. Sweat started to bead on my forehead, which came from both the flickers of flame that were running through my body and the rising anxiety inside me, competing with the flames.
I turned before I dropped my pants right then and there. Feeling this man against me turned my brain into a slushie.
“Here you go, Beckham.”
“Thank you… Jamison.”
Ugh, that’s right. One future tip for faking a name when you’re overseas: have that name prepared ahead of time. Hell, have the entire backstory prepared before the plane even touches down. Then you won’t be caught looking like a fool when all you can think about is the name of a liquor bottle sitting on a nearby shelf.
At least I didn’t choose Merlot.
We moved through the crowd, toward an outdoor patio area. I threw a glance toward the dance floor, which was packed with sweaty bodies grinding up against each other like they were all trying to make fire on a deserted island.
I spotted William, the tallest one in the crowd, dancing with one of the girls we had met at another bar before this one. She liked him so much, she decided to tag along with us. William seemed entertained by her, but with the way his gaze was staring out a window as though he were picturing himself anywhere else, I realized the entertainment may have been waning.
I waved over the heads of all the dancing people, grabbing his attention. I pointed out toward the patio. He said something to his date, but she didn’t seem to like what he proposed. She shook her head, pouted, and started moving her hips in an even wilder fashion than before.
For a second, I thought she was trying to suck William up into her hoo-hah and never let him go.
He waved me off and went back to focusing on the girl. I shrugged and turned my attention back to Beckham, who was waiting for me by the door to the outside patio, holding it open for me like some kind of prince in a well-fitting black button-up.
Speaking of black, he sure was wearing a lot of it. From head to toe, there was zero color. It looked good on him, almost like he was some kind of secret agent.
“It’s too stuffy in there, ain’t it?”