gold-speckled off-the-shoulder top, which complements her black dress pants.
“He and my bestie Alexis are seeing each other. They live in the penthouse,” Carls explains. She smooths down her black-sequinned shift dress, which rests midthigh. As always, she looks like a million bucks.
Sal’s eyes widen. “No shit! Really? They live in the penthouse?”
“Yeah, really!” Carls sweeps her long, blonde hair off her shoulder and throws back her Slippery Nipple shot.
I give her a sceptical glare. “Are you going to pace yourself tonight?”
She licks her lips. “Probably not.”
Just as she’s about to scoop up her second shot, a masculine hand darts out of nowhere and swipes it from her, the contents of the small glass disappearing into the hand-owner’s mouth.
“Mm.” The guy gives her a boyish grin. “I love a good Slippery Nipple.”
My jaw drops, and I’m about to shove the jerk for stealing her drink and being an inappropriate pig, when Carly smiles at him, recognition in her eyes.
“It just so happens that I like Slippery Nipples as well, and now you”—she presses her finger into his chest—“owe me one.”
“Carly—” He licks the rim of the glass, his voice low, playful, and sexy as hell. “—if it weren’t for Derek beating me to a pulp, I’d totally give you one.”
I swallow and nearly choke, all of sudden craving a Slippery Nipple too—they must be good.
She rolls her eyes at him. “Derek beat you to a pulp? Surrre. I’m almost certain he wouldn’t give a flying fuck what you gave me.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” He steps back and lets out a deep belly laugh, and I take it he knows Derek well.
“No, I’m not shittin’ you. Derek has never once hinted he and I are anything more than just ‘extra-special’ friends, Will.” She motions the bartender over. “I’ll have four Slippery Nipples. What do you girls want?” Carly turns in our direction, finally acknowledging we’re standing next to her.
Sal giggles and waves her fingers, but I just purse my lips at the rude bitch.
“Shit! Sorry! Will, these are my friends and work colleagues, Sally, Brooke, and Labia. Girls, this is Will, Derek’s mate.”
Heat burns my cheeks. Did she just introduce me as a vagina?
“Labia?” The arrogant jerk rests his knuckle on his lips, his amused eyes raking me from top to toe and back again. “Doesn’t get any sweeter than that.”
I. Beg. Your. Pardon.
“My name is Lib, or Elizabeth,” I say, teeth gritted.
He turns his body to face me then leans on his elbow against the bar, and I’m able to get a better look at him—short dark-brown hair, tousled and peppered with a sexy hint of grey, a well-groomed beard and moustache, and pouty lips to rival Brad Pitt’s. He’s wearing a white shirt—possibly a size or two too small—sleeves rolled up to his biceps that could be easily mistaken as basketballs.
I stare at them and they flex, so I blink and focus back on his face.
“I think I like Labia better,” he says and winks.
My eyes narrow into slits, nostrils flared, but I’m too furious to say anything.
“Gee.” He raises his hands. “Lib or Elizabeth it is then.”
“Thank you,” I say, my smile sarcastically sweet.
“So what would your royal highness Elizabeth like to drink?”
“Royal highness? Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. “As if I haven’t heard that before. And anyway, I’m quite capable of getting my own drink—”
“Actually,” the bartender interrupts, “they’re on the house.”
“Make that five Slippery Nipples and five Cum Shots,” Carly announces. “And they’re all for me.”
“Carly!” I scold.
“Labia!” she scolds back.
Will chuckles then slaps the bartender on the back in a familiar manner. “I’ll have a Red-Headed Leg Spreader.”
My jaw pretty much hits the floor, but the way he’s looking at me—eyes heavy, tongue darting over his bottom lip as if he wants to spread my thighs—I can’t help but press them together.
“Is that a real drink?” Carly asks.
“Yep.” Will keeps his eyes on me, and my body tingles in response.
Stupid body. It doesn’t know what it’s doing. He’s rude and pigheaded, and rude, and… Jesus, I like his arms.
“Can I get either of you ladies a drink as well?” the bartender asks, looking between Sal, Brooke, and me.
Sal slurps the last of her Cosmo in the most unladylike manner. “Yes, please, another one of these.”
Brooke holds up two fingers. “Make that two.”
Staring Will square in the eye, I say, “I’ll have a Maneater.”
He scoffs, and it makes me even more annoyed; my drink order was better than his.
The bartender busies himself with the drinks and