Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(4)
His smile dropped a notch, something almost like sadness flitting in his eyes, gone before she could get a good read. “Probably,” he said, shrugging and running a hand through his dirty-blond hair. He was all too charming and all too tempting.
“Good,” Lizzie said, her smile growing. “Me too.”
Rake’s eyebrows shot up, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Do you do this a lot?” he asked.
“Do what? Pick up guys?” She looked him up and down. “Need me to go easy on you, tiger?”
“No,” he said, still chuckling. “I mean, talk to strangers so easily. Like you’ve known them for years.”
Lizzie shrugged. “You’d have to ask the other strangers that.”
Rake considered this as he took a sip of beer. “So, Lizzie.” He focused his attention on his bottle, scratching at the corner of the label with his thumb while a tang of sheepishness crept into his voice. “How set are you on this someone you’ve been waiting on?”
“Less and less by the second,” she said, taking a sip of her drink and licking her lips. His eyes flicked to her mouth, watching the movement.
“My coworkers are about to leave,” he said, nodding toward the darker recesses of the bar, swarms of people packing into the large space. “If I go say goodbye, will you still be here when I get back?”
“Why wouldn’t you go with them?” she asked with her best attempt at tantalizing indifference.
He gave her a pointed look. “Because you’re much more interesting, and marginally more beautiful.”
Lizzie hid her smile behind the rim of her glass as she took another sip.
“Will you be here?” he asked again.
Lizzie shrugged, trying to play coy. “Depends on how bored I get in the meantime.”
“If you can have patience for just a few minutes, I have some ideas that I think can keep you entertained for the rest of the evening.”
“Care to share?”
“I think we’ll be sharing a lot of things tonight.”
Lizzie’s eyes roamed his face, taking in the heated meaning behind the contrived words, and she couldn’t help the burst of laughter that broke from her lips, the sound ricocheting in the space between them. Rake’s eyes went wide, taken aback by her less-than-swooning reaction.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to hide her grin. “But do lines like that actually work?”
“Clearly not on you,” he said when her giggles subsided, his expression somewhere between amused and indignant.
“I’ll be here,” Lizzie said, biting her lip, allowing herself to picture the feel of his body beneath her hands, how the thick ropes of his muscle would feel pressing her down into a mattress. He was exactly what she needed.
“Then I’ll be right back,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the bar.
“Try to think of some better lines while you’re gone,” Lizzie called to his retreating back, smiling at the wave he gave her.
She sipped her drink, warming at the thoughts of what came next.
Sex calmed her restless mind in a way nothing else did, and she threw herself into it like an enthusiastic hobbyist. Some people had yoga, some had meditation, others kickboxing or knitting. Lizzie had sex.
She loved the rush of someone new, the puzzle of how to get what she wanted, and the freedom of doing it all without emotional attachments. Lizzie was sensitive by nature, but she’d long ago figured out a way to detach from the pesky feelings that people often attached to sex. You couldn’t get hurt if you went in knowing it was only a one-off, a means to an orgasmic end. Feelings couldn’t be stepped on if you were in control of the duration of the encounter and the rules surrounding it. She’d structured the entirety of her “dating” life around that philosophical pillar. She was basically a modern, horny Descartes.
Her mind was flicking through images of the night ahead like pages of a magazine, when a hot puff of sour breath hit her cheek.
“There you are.” The words were slurred and dripping with alcohol. The closeness of the voice made her jump, and she reared her head back, turning to the source.
It took her a second to place the vaguely familiar face, matching it with the pixelated version she’d squinted at through her phone screen.
“Oh,” she said, frowning. “You showed.” Nate, her original date for the night, swayed in front of her. “You’re an hour late,” Lizzie added, glancing at her phone.
“Issss me,” he drawled.
“And me!” Another drunken idiot draped his arm around Nate’s shoulders and gave him a bro-pat.
“And who the fuck are you?” Lizzie asked.
“Dis’ is my best friend,” Nate said, slapping a hand to the man’s chest. “We both wanted to know if you’re a natural redhead.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve never hooked up with a fire crotch before.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Continue to talk to me and I’ll light both of your crotches on fire,” Lizzie said, riffling quickly through her purse and throwing some money on the bar for her drinks.
“Easy, babe,” Nate said, leaning closer still, his breath rank, making every hair on Lizzie’s body stand alert. “What’re you doing?” His mouth was slack and eyes glassy as he watched her slide from her barstool.