Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,4

skin flamed hotter.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” I mumbled and sucked on my straw as I tried to ignore him.

“Bad experiences,” Sergio offered, because he was a helpful guy like that. I glared at him over my little umbrella.

“I’m Cameron,” Mr. Blue Eyes said in his stupidly sexy voice.

I grunted. Sergio gasped at my unfriendly behavior.

“Her name is Bleu, since she’s too rude to pick up on basic social cues,” Sergio offered. I rolled my eyes and finished enjoying my drink.

The problem with me is, after three massive margaritas my mouth tends to get away from me.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you. You think ’cause you’re some big hockey stud, you can just shove your way into our prime booth, make yourself at home, and we’ll fall all over you.” I stared into those incredibly mesmerizing eyes, fighting the crazy pull they had. In my inebriated mind, I needed to push him away before I did something incredibly stupid.

“Bleu!” Sergio spat, aghast at my mouth. Except I was beyond caring and desperate.

“Don’t Bleu me.” I waved my hand drunkenly at Sergio. “Just cuz you think they’re all sexy and can do no wrong. I know guys like this.” My vision blurred a little as I waved my hand in Cameron’s face.

His thick hand clasped mine right before I almost stuck my finger up his nose.

“Easy there, killer.” He tried to hide his grin, but my keen drunken senses—not—caught it.

“Are you laughing at me?” My eyes narrowed on him.

“Who, me? Absolutely not,” he said as his thumb stroked my wrist.

“You got very big hands,” I mumbled.

“The better to feel you with,” he whispered in my ear. My eyes went wide at all the possible scenarios of his words.

“I need another drink, Sergio!”

“Cold”—Crossfade

Stretching, I frowned when my feet poked out of the bottom of the covers and hung over the bottom of the bed. Momentarily disoriented, I raised my head to take in my surroundings.

A mass of flame red, curly hair covered the woman next to me, and everything came back. A satisfied curl to my lips preceded me turning her direction and propping my head on my hand.

Feeling brave, I lifted the heavy curtain of fire and fought the desire to trace the freckles heavily sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. A single freckle sat right in the bow of the top of her lips and I wanted to lick it.

Except I didn’t, because her hazel eyes popped open and stared at me in shock.

“Holy shit!” She jumped out of bed with a squeal, ran to the bathroom, and slammed the door.

With a chuckle, I rolled to my back and scratched my T-shirt covered chest.

Yeah, imagine that. Cameron fuckin’ McGregor went home with a chick and we were both dressed. Well, mostly. Because not a goddamn thing happened.

The bathroom door flew open again, and she was standing there brushing her teeth. She glanced down at her tank top and boy shorts, then back up at me sprawled on her bed in my T-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Why aw you hewe?” she asked around her toothbrush.

“Damn, woman, you sure know how to kill a man’s ego,” I said with a chuckle. Her eyes narrowed at me. “Relax. Nothing happened except I took your drunk ass home so your friend didn’t need to go out of his way.”

“Why are you still here then?” she hollered over her shoulder as she returned to the sink. I watched as she spat, then cupped her hand in the running water to rinse her mouth.

“Because you begged me to hold you,” I replied as my smile grew.

Her reaction was comical as fuck. She stiffened as she stared at herself in the mirror. As she argued with her reflection, I stared unabashedly at her coltish form. She was nothing like the bottle-blonde, fake-titted, curvy chicks I usually went for.

Freckles dusted all over her pale skin, and small but pert tits poked at her pale pink tank. Her ass was on the smaller side as well, but my dick could attest to its perfect firmness and form. When she’d nestled into me in the wee hours of the morning, I’d had to bite my knuckles.

I might be a womanizer, but I didn’t take advantage of drunk chicks. No matter how hot they were.

And Bleu was gorgeous in a refreshingly natural way.

With a yawn, I swung my feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Then I stood and stretched again.

“What are