Page 28 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

“I love hockey. I’m down for some stick-in-the-net action. She tucks her feet under her, leaning closer to me.

“Puck. Puck in the net. Not the stick,” Jake deadpans.

Eve’s eyes lock with mine. “As long as something goes in my, I mean, the net.”

“I’m going to get another.” Jake lifts his can of non-alcoholic beer. “Want one?”

“I’m good.” I wave him off.

“Eve?” Jake asks.

“No thanks. But I’ll have some pizza.” Reaching forward, she grabs a slice from the box on the coffee table. She lifts the slice to her mouth and takes a giant bite. “Mmm.” She chews and swallows. “I wish I could make pizza this good. Hell, I wish I could cook anything this good. Cooking’s not my forte.”

Once Jake disappears behind the wall, I lean in so only she can hear. “What are you doing? You’re not mad at me?”

She takes another bite, chews, and swallows before she says, “I talked with Nora. She said you’re an idiot and don’t know what you want. If I want this,” she points between us, “I need to take matters into my own hands.”

I’m relieved to know she’s not mad at me because, fuck, all I want to do is lay her down on this couch and kiss every inch of her naked body. The sound of the fridge door closing jerks me from the fantasy playing in my head. I drop my hand to my crotch and discretely adjust myself in my jeans, except it doesn’t go unnoticed by Eve, who’s currently smirking at me.

“What did I miss?” Jake says as he enters the living room.

“Nothing,” we both say in unison.

Jake takes a seat on the couch. “What the hell? Nothing? Minnesota scored a goal.”

“Oh yeah. That happened,” Eve says.

During the rest of the period, I steal glances at Eve while also making sure Jake doesn’t notice. I’m an asshole.

Eve wraps her arms around herself. “What temperature do you have it in here? Artic?”

“It’s not that cold,” Jake says.

“Easy for you to say when you’re a natural radiator.” Eve twists to face me. Reaching over my lap, her tits graze my arm. She peers up at me from under her lashes. A smile twitches on her lips. Her fingers wrap around the corner of a small fleece blanket, dragging it over me. She haphazardly unfolds it, a corner falling over my lap while she covers hers. I don’t move the blanket and neither does she. Her hand dips underneath the fleece. She stares at the TV while her fingertips brush against my leg.

I peer at Jake, whose attention is on the game, and then I slide my hand under the blanket. I find Eve’s hand and brush my thumb over the back. The touch is small, but it’s exactly what I need. She makes all my worries disappear. Even when she’s my biggest worry. My attention is no longer on the game, but instead, it’s on Eve as I trail a fingertip over her palm. She adjusts herself on the couch, inching closer to me. I hook my pinky around hers. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she fights a smile. As much as I want to pull her to my lap and nuzzle her neck, I can’t. Instead, I settle for her touch. She’s tearing down my willpower, brick by brick, and soon I’ll no longer be able to deny her. Or myself.

SEVENTEEN

BECAUSE OF YOU

Lach

Last night was reckless. It shouldn’t have happened, especially with Jake sitting on the couch. He could have caught us. Maybe he did, and now he’s plotting the perfect murder.

My willpower is disintegrating faster than a paper straw in a glass of water, especially after last night and now today. She has her golden hair pulled back in a ponytail, showing off her sunflower tattoo I love. All I want to do is brush my lips against her delicate skin, right below her ear next to the ink. Her sweet laughter floats down the length of the bar, making my dick twitch. The sound of her laughter, light and carefree, is utterly captivating. I could listen to it all night long. But instead, I’m stuck in the torture of having to work beside her and closing down the bar—just the two of us. I need to restrain myself from touching her because once I do, I won’t be able to let go. Fuck. I need away from her so I can breathe. “Hey Eve, I have to run to the back for a second. Can you handle everything?”

She twists around, counting the five patrons sitting at the bar. “Yeah. I think I can handle it.” She nods.

I storm down the hallway, shoving the bathroom door open. It clicks shut behind me. For the past six hours, I’ve been next to her or within feet of her. I’m in desperate need of a break. I’ve never been so caught up in someone before. She makes it hard. So fucking hard. My restraint is on the verge of snapping like an over-stretched rubber band. One more tug and it’ll snap in two. Sadly, I have ninety minutes before I can relieve my misery. Until tomorrow, anyway. If I start closing duties early, maybe I can cut it to sixty. I blow out a deep breath and head back to the bar.

When I round the corner, I freeze. My gaze drifts down. The denim is perfectly molded to Eve’s ass as she grabs a bottle of beer from the bottom of the cooler. I tear my gaze away. This is going to be the longest ninety minutes of my life.

Over the next hour, customers get fewer and farther between. I start the closing duties early, hoping to get out of here faster. Every time I turn around, Eve is right there, standing next to me, brushing past me, or reaching over me. The sly and playful upturn of her lips each time our gazes connect makes me suspect she’s doing it on purpose.

When the last customer leaves, I lock the door. “I’m going to go to the storage room to restock the liquor shelf and coolers.”

Eve tugs her hair from her ponytail. Her long hair cascades down her shoulders like a silken waterfall. “Okay. I’ll start sweeping.” She pulls a broom from the small nook next to the register and starts sweeping on the far side of the bar.

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