return for the jab. “He went out on a run. Be back in a couple of hours. You need him?”
“No. Just saw he wasn’t in his office.”
“You want a drink then, or are you pretending you’re a good boy in front of your beautiful friend?”
“Hah hah, dickhead. No, I think we’re go—”
“Tequila,” Silver says, leaning her elbows against the bar. “Shots. Two, please. And Alex doesn’t have to pretend to be anything around me. I know who he is.”
My dick is immediately hard, throbbing against the inside of my thigh, partly because of the way her ass is sticking out, looking perfectly fucking biteable in her tight black jeans, but also because of the sassy confidence she's emitting as she watches Paul place the shot glasses down on the bar.
“On me,” Paul says. “I knew I was saving my promo tab for a good reason. See me if you want another round. Colleen's fucking PMS-ing. She tried to choke out the new bouncer 'cause she caught him looking at her ass. She'd probably charge you double for your drinks right now sooner than comp them. Oh, and…no offense,” he says, grimacing at Silver. “About the PMS thing. I'm a total feminist. But seriously, it's a real thing here. The girls all sync up. It’s like fucking Armageddon one week out of the month.”
“Throw down the shovel, man. Walk away. You’re not doing yourself any favors,” I laugh, picking up one of the tequila shots. Silver hardly seems bothered by Paul’s comment. The savage little smirk on her face says she’s enjoying watching him squirm, though. Paul slides us two wedges of lime on a cocktail dish and then heads off to serve someone else, flipping the bird at me over his shoulder as he goes.
“He seems nice,” Silver offers. She’s holding her shot, the back of her hand already salted.
“Didn’t realize you were such a hardened drinker, Argento. You look like a semi-pro right now.”
“Yeah, well, you forget. I was friends with Kacey for a long time before I was cut from their little squad. And Kacey Winters will drive anyone to drink, friend or otherwise. Come on. Down in one.” She licks the back of her hand, and I can’t fucking help myself. I grab her by the back of her head, hand fisting in her hair, and I kiss her. Her lips are so damn soft. She sighs into my mouth, breath sweet and warm, and I have to convince myself it’d be a bad idea to tear her clothes off and fuck her up against the bar right here and now.
Using the flat of my tongue, I stroke it against her own, stealing the salt she just licked from her hand, and my mouth aches with the taste of the sea, of a childhood spent running up and down Black Sand Beach with an icy wind pulling at my clothes. She moans, a quiet, tense pant of pleasure, and my hands almost get to work on the button of her jeans.
Silver opens her eyes and looks up at me, pupils dilated, her cheeks flushed, and I realize a little too late maybe that my thumb is rubbing along the addicting curve of the underside of her breast.
“Alcohol,” she whispers, dazed. “Shit, let’s do the shot before I embarrass the crap out of myself and climb you like a tree, Alex.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I keep her in my sights as I throw back the tequila, the burn lighting me up from the inside as the booze floods my chest. I’m fucking fascinated by the way the shot glass presses against her bottom lip. The way the muscles in the graceful column of her throat work as she swallows. The tiny wrinkles that form on the bridge of her nose as she shakes her head, wiggling her fingers as the tequila hits her.
Oh, holy fuck. You stupid son of a bitch, Alex.
How can I not have realized until now? Feeling more than little slow on the uptake, it occurs to me that at some point, I became so enthralled with Silver Parisi that there isn’t a part of her I’m not completely and utterly in love with.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cringing when she notices me staring at her. “What? Did I spill it all down my face?” she asks. “You didn’t do the lime.”
“I don’t need the lime.”
“Of course you do. It’s the rule. You do the shot,