Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(67)

God, Trystan had beautiful thick hair. I wanted to grip it in my fists. I wondered if it was soft or coarse.

The bartender popped up in front of me. "Anything else?"

"Uh," I managed, reorienting myself to time and place. "A shot of Patron for me and one for that suit monkey at the end of the bar. Thanks."

The bartender swiveled his gaze down the bar. "Lucky guy," he said and grabbed two shot glasses.

Suit Monkey: Where'd you learn to dance like that?

Here. Every Friday night.

A shot appeared in front of me. Then the bartender delivered one down the bar, letting Trystan know it was from me. I held mine up in a toast.

He looked at me, bemused. Then he lifted his shot glass and we saluted each other. I slammed the drink back and grimaced against the fiery burn.

Suit Monkey: That would have tasted better if I could have licked the sweat off your skin first.

My mouth dropped open. The lines of text sank through my stomach and lassoed my libido. It wasn't possible to be this aroused by someone surely?

Why are you here, Trystan?

Suit Monkey: You really asking me that?

You want your phone back.

Suit Monkey: That's not why I'm here.

I blew out a breath and summoned the common sense that had made me walk out of his hotel room this morning. I willed it to stamp all over my flaming libido and snuff it out.

I can't be one of your hookups.

A crease crossed his brow. His mouth flattened to a serious line. He closed his eyes. When he opened them his gaze locked with mine. The lights at the bar accentuated the piercing gray-blue. I wondered what they really looked like close up. Would I see all the shades of blue and silver?

Suit Monkey: I've thought of nothing but you all day.

I took a deep breath. Same. But . . .

Suit Monkey: Are you scared what we have won't translate to real life?

He was frowning—legitimately trying to understand my hesitation. I guess he was used to these situations being certain. Uncomplicated. Easy.

I wasn't. So far from it. I couldn't do one-night stands. I'd tried a couple of times at college between boyfriends, and I simply wasn't wired to lay myself bare with someone, no pun intended, and find I'd left them with a part of myself they had no care for. I felt like I’d lost something valuable, something I could never get back. I realized it was a little how I'd felt this morning. No matter how much I liked this man, I simply didn't think I was designed for the likes of him. It wasn't that I had to be in a long-term relationship with men I slept with necessarily, I just needed to know I wasn't only a vagina.

Trystan: Wish I knew what was going through your head right now.

I'm thinking how much my feet are killing me in these high heels. I typed out the lie and hit send.

His lips quirked. Trystan: I bet. Please. Talk to me. He wasn't buying it. My shoulders dropped, and I decided to be honest.

I woke up in a hotel where I realized all your hookups happen. I felt like I was another one. I didn't like it. I felt manipulated. Like you planned it.

His gaze flew up to mine, and I lifted a shoulder.

Trystan: God, Emmy. No.

He scrubbed a hand down his face then straightened from the bar for a second like he was going to come to me.

I stiffened.

Don't I typed.

Suit Monkey: Do you think we'll ever be able to talk to each other face to face?

I don't know. I feel like I can tell you anything like this. Like it isn't real.

Suit Monkey: You don't want this to be real?

I don't know.

Suit Monkey: So tell me something you can't say to my face. Because I really like you, Emmy.

I like you too.

Suit Monkey: But you think I'm a bad guy.

No. Yes. Maybe?

Trystan's mouth pressed together.

Suit Monkey: Because I woke up on top of the world this morning. Even P!nk is starting to grow on me.

My chest grew tight as my heart felt as if it swelled. This guy was good. You listening to my music?

Suit Monkey: There's a guy behind you who has memorized the shape of your arse. He's about two seconds from building up the nerve to touch you. Now might be a good time to employ those heels.

I straightened and looked over my shoulder. Sure enough there was guy right behind me, and his face broke into a leery grin, eyes bright with imbibed courage.

"Sorry, I'm not interested," I yelled at him over the music, shaking my head.

He stepped closer, his hand coming around my waist, and my heart leapt to my throat.

Then he wasn't there, having been jerked back by his collar. The guy lost his balance and stumbled, knocking into several people and their drinks, and Trystan who hadn't let go, helped him right himself.

They exchanged words I couldn't hear. Then Trystan was in front of me, and the man was forgotten.

He looked down and pinned me with his intense stare, and my pulse pounded in my throat as I was consumed by it. I remembered the energy that had oozed off him at the airport. This simply wasn't a man anyone could ignore. I wanted to breathe him in, but the sweating humanity of the crowded club made it impossible unless I touched him. He was taller than I remembered.

We were inches away from each other. One bump by the crowd and I'd be plastered against him.

Around us people communicated by getting close and pressing their mouths to each other's ears. I envied their ease. That was too monumental for us.