Dream On(30)

“Oh, you sweet summer child, you have no idea what you’ve done.” Chuckling, Devin scrubs a palm over his jaw.

“What?” I ask.

“Perry is killer at pinball.”

“Have a little faith.” Cupping his face, I plant a quick peck on his lips and freeze, my mouth mere inches away from his. Devin’s eyes widen.

Holy shit, I kissed him! I didn’t mean to, not exactly. What I did was the sort of casual display of intimacy reserved for people with actual history between them—several dates under their belt, at least. We might have had a moment outside, but he didn’t ask for this. What if I misread his signals earlier? What if he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with me? The notion of “Cass as stalker” is probably back on the table because who in their right mind would do what I just did?

With an apologetic grimace, I give his cheek a pat pat, praying a portal to another universe will appear and swallow me up. It doesn’t. But before I can run out and bury myself in the nearest ditch, Devin’s arms snake around my back, he tugs me closer, and then he’s kissing me.

My nerves melt away. His lips are exquisitely soft—exactly how I remember them. My brain suddenly kicks into overdrive. Devin’s kissing me. He’s kissing me. And not just in a memory, in real life. His tongue teases the seam of my lips, coaxing them apart. I close my eyes and revel in the scent of his bergamot cologne and the way his tongue dips into my mouth, accelerating, commanding.

Okay, so not like how I remember, but I meet his pace and heat flares low in my belly at the fireworks of sensation. A shiver zings up my spine, and memories of kissing him over and over, in dozens of settings, flash through my mind like a movie reel on fast-forward. Dreams blur with reality. My heart thunders.

Just when I think my head might actually explode with sensory and memory overload, Devin slows down. With a final lingering brush of lips, he pulls back and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Wow,” he whispers, his deep voice rumbling as his eyes search my face.

“Yeah.” I exhale through a giggle.

Taking my hand, he guides me onto the nearest stool. Good timing, because I’m not sure my trembling legs are capable of holding me upright much longer.

“I’m back.” Perry shouts above the music. He plunks a pitcher of beer and three shot glasses full of amber liquid on the table, followed by three plastic cups he has tucked under his arm.

“What’s this?” I motion to the shot glasses.

“A peace offering to show my goodwill.” Perry slides a shot across the table toward Devin and hands another to me. I bring the glass to my nose and sniff. A burst of cinnamon fills my sinuses, and I cough. “No, but what is this?”

“Fireball.”

“No-ho. None for me, thanks.” I’d had one too many bad experiences with Fireball over the years. Better to stick with beer, especially after the gin and tonics. I push the glass away from me with one finger.

“Suit yourself. Devin?”

“No, thanks.”

With a shrug, Perry picks up the nearest shot glass, tips its contents into his mouth, and slams the glass on the table. He immediately takes my unwanted shot and drains it in a single gulp.

He’s reaching for the third when Devin slides it out of his reach. “Whoa there, Drunky. You should slow down.”

“What? I think a handicap for our game is in order, don’t you?”

Resting my chin in my hand, I tilt my head. “You’re really that confident you’ll win?”

“You’ve never seen me play.”

My lips peel into a grin. “Same here.” To hell with it. I might be mixing, but at least I’ve eaten; I can handle it. I snatch the last shot and toss it back. Cinnamon whisky burns a fiery path down my throat. Licking my lips, I set the empty glass on the table. “An even playing field is only fair. Ready to lose?”

Perry snorts. “Are you?” Grabbing the pitcher of beer and cups, he saunters across the room toward a vintage Twilight Zone machine. Fitting.

I slide off my stool to follow, but Devin snares me around the waist. His hand is like a brand through my shirt where he grips my side. “You are one of the most surprising women I’ve ever met,” he says softly, his warm breath caressing my ear. The light catches his jawline and damn he’s beautiful—like a Romantic-era painting. His full, glistening lips, immaculate jawline, and dark, perfectly formed eyebrows cap soulful, deep brown eyes. Like Orest Kiprensky’s piercing self-portrait mixed with the bright, breathtaking energy of a Gauguin.

Heart fluttering against my ribs, I feign a bravado I’m not sure I feel. “Stick around. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Promise?” The flicker of heat in his eyes is so potent I nearly self-combust.

Part of me wants to haul him out of here and say to hell with Perry and our bet. And by the way Devin’s looking at me, I’m pretty sure he’d be into the idea. But a deal’s a deal. I promised Perry a pinball game, and I never back down from a challenge—especially where pinball is concerned. “You’ll have to wait and see.” With a little shrug, I slip out of his embrace and head toward the Twilight Zone machine where Perry is watching us intently, waiting.

I let my hips sway more than I usually do, knowing Devin’s watching me too.

Chuckling, he quickly catches up and falls into step beside me. “Count me in, Mystery Girl.”