International Player(26)

This was why I’d first developed my crush on this man. It was as if he didn’t know how not to flirt. Unwittingly, he always knew how to press my buttons, what undid me, what pulled me under. I should slide my hand away, tell him to turn the car around and to drop me off at home. I had meant to be avoiding unnecessary time with him. I was supposed to stop falling back into the habit of enjoying this man’s company so much that our friendship blurred into something more. For me.

But I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t ready for my time with him to be over.

Bruce pulled to the curb, and Noah glanced out the window. “Just here?” he asked.

“Yep. It’s open until four.”

“We can drink plenty of tequila in that time,” he said.

“You know that more than one shot and I’ll be a mess.”

“We’ll see.” He held my gaze for a beat too long and warmth coursed through my body. This was my opportunity to say no. To ask Bruce to turn around. I should go home—to my books and my bed. Tequila shouldn’t be an option.

Noah slid out of the car before me, then helped me out after him.

As he shut the door I asked, “Bruce isn’t going to wait, is he?”

“That’s what I pay him to do.” He took my hand again and we walked into the dimly lit bar.

“All these people at your beck and call—aren’t you worried it’ll change you?”

His stare pressed against me as I glanced around at the dark room. There were brown leather semi-circular booths on the outside of the room and a few tables in the middle. Soft eighties music played in the background rather than the ubiquitous dance music that seemed to surround me whenever I found myself out at night. And there wasn’t one type of person here—not all office workers trying to forget the stress of their week or hipsters figuring out how they were going to change the world. It was a place anyone could blend into, which was the perfect place for me. Had Noah known or was this the closest spot open?

“Do you think it’s changed me?” he asked as he led us deeper into the bar. A waitress stopped us, and when Noah gave her his name, she led us to one of the round booths.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Has it?”

I took a seat, and Noah followed, sliding so close that his leg pressed against mine, his body heat seeping through to my skin. What was with him tonight?

“I think I’m still adjusting, but the money gives me freedoms I didn’t have before.”

“Freedom to not work? Help me?”

“To figure out what I really want.”

My pulse thudded in my ears. His words seemed heavy. Important. And it seemed like we were skirting around the edges of something. Like we were about to cross a line from which there was no going back.

The waitress returned with the tequila and two shot glasses. As she went to open it, Noah held out his hand. “Thanks, I’ll do it.”

He took the alcohol, unscrewed the cap of the ornately decorated bottle, and tipped the amber liquid into the two glasses in front of us. “You said tequila. No going back now.”

I hoped I didn’t regret my request. I struggled to handle more than a glass of wine.

“To you, Truly,” he said, raising his glass. “And to experiencing new things.”

I picked up my glass, chinked it against his, and watched as he took a sip. “It’s really too good to shoot. Have a taste.”

I moistened my lips and lifted the glass. The alcohol coated my mouth like slippery, wet heat and I swallowed, the fire snaking down my throat.

“Good, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Surprisingly so.”

I watched as he took another sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his long, tan neck. I held back my urge to press my fingers against his exposed skin and trace the liquid down, down, down.

I needed to snap out of it, remind myself how miserable I’d been pining after him when he’d left. I was never going to be the girl who got this guy. That wasn’t how the world worked. I needed to stop looking for signs of affection that didn’t exist. I needed not to hope for something that was never going to happen. “So, have you figured it out yet?”

“What?” he asked as he leaned back.

“What you want?”

“Right now?” He slid his arm behind my shoulders, his fingers skirting my hair, so it rested on the back of our seats.

Had he ever touched me like this? It was as if he didn’t want to break our connection, as if he couldn’t not touch me. Why were alarm bells ringing in my ears?

“Right now”—he swept his thumb across my bottom lip—“right now I want to kiss you.” He held my gaze, waiting for some kind of answer.

The room fell silent; the only sound left was the breath leaving my lungs. I had a thousand responses but they all started and ended with I want you to kiss me, too.

The only thing I could see was Noah watching me.

The only thing I could remember was how he’d almost kissed me once before.

How was this happening again? I knew I shouldn’t let it but I didn’t want to stop it.

And of course, he saw my weakness in my expression and leaned into me, pressing his lips on mine. What was left of my resolve disappeared.

He cupped my face and I dissolved under his touch. Despite being in a room full of strangers, the moment seemed so private, so intimate, as if it was my first kiss and I’d just entered a new world. A small moan escaped my throat and Noah smiled against my lips.