Page 54 of The Other Guy

“Thank goodness,” I joke as I take a hefty drink right from the bottle.

“Right.”

Her fingers graze mine when she reaches for the bottle, confirming my earlier suspicions about electricity when we touch. It zips up my arm and straight through my body landing solidly in my crotch. Her eyes widen and I know she feels it, too. Thank goodness I don’t speak that out loud because I would feel like a complete wuss. She tips it back and takes a large drink herself. Her tongue and lips. Right where mine just were. My pants are tight and I’m a teenager, apparently, not being able to control myself because a girl just drank from the same bottle as me. What the actual hell is wrong with me?

Her body gives a little shudder and her tongue sticks out like she just tasted something disgusting. “Blech.”

I chuckle. “Delicious, huh?”

“Mmm. So delicious,” she moans and licks her lips making me think all sorts of things.

I pour a couple fingers into each glass and lift mine up. “Should we do a toast?”

She shakes her head rapidly. “Umm, no. No. Just… no.”

“Want to take a moment to think about that?”

“Is it possible for you to act like Jack?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jack! You’re all stiff and weird. What’s up?” She takes a sip and pulls a face as she swallows hard.

Stiff. If she only knew.

“I am not.”

“Are to. You’re all jacked up because I’m here, buddy. And I have you all out of sorts about that. Why is that, hmm?” She pokes me in the chest and I grab her finger.

I don’t even answer her question. Instead, I just get stuck on her calling me a buddy for the second time tonight. Very interesting. “Buddy, huh?” I ask her, pulling her a few steps closer, my mouth now a breath from hers.

“Mm hmm. My buddy Jack.”

“Is that what helps? To think of me as a buddy?” My voice is low and husky and I look down at her lips when I notice her staring at mine. If she can, I can, right?

Fair is fair.

“Um. No? Yes? Maybe?”

“Which one is it?” I ask, finally gaining my footing around this striking woman I have been fumbling my way in front of thus far. I place a hand on her bare shoulder and run my palm down her arm. She shivers under my touch and I smile.

“Maybe?”

“Are you asking me?”

“What?” she asks, breathlessly.

Toby makes himself known, nosing between us and interrupting the moment. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or want to put him outside in the freezing rain.

“H-h-hey there, boy,” Sierra stutters then slowly lowers herself so she’s face-to-face with him. “You need attention, too, huh?”

She looks up at me and I don’t miss the desire in her eyes. It’s there. Unmistakable because I have no doubt mine look the same. Now what do I do about it?

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