Page 4 of Dealing Dirty
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he pants when he catches up to me. “They’re sexy.”
“Are you always so annoying?” The whacking sound of thick plastic echoes off the pavement.
“Are you always so easy to rile?” I note the long draw of the ‘I’ as his hands slide into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Okay, no more teasing, I swear.” My gaze flicks up when he lightly shoves my shoulder, mischief dancing away behind his eyes. “This is nothing a little tequila can’t fix.”
Now he’s speaking my language. I’d do just about anything for a bit of tequila.
Derrick takes my hand before yanking me inside one of the casinos. Neon blue lights shine over the entrance, reflecting across the speckled granite flooring, and my belly quivers with excitement.
We cut through a thin crowd surrounding a row of blackjack tables. Everywhere I turn, bright lights lure me. Pings and dings sound from various machines scattered all around the enormous room, but Derrick’s on a mission, not even bothering to glance around.
Nestled in the back of the building is a small bar with five barstools.
“Shall we?” Derrick asks, pulling out a stool for me while he flags down a young woman behind the counter. She gobbles Derrick up with a lustful stare. The busty redhead taps her candy-apple-colored nails against a stray glass before tucking it away beneath the bar.
“What can I get for you handsome?” she asks, ignoring my presence completely.
I narrow my eyes as Derrick orders.
“Can we get two shots of tequila, please? And keep them coming.” He winks, and she bats her glittery lashes.
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Long, slender fingers trail over Derrick’s when she reaches for his card. He doesn’t seem to notice the pile of drool she’s left behind.
“We’ll play shot-for-shot,” he says.
I hide my pleasure at being the sole capture of his attention. “How do you play?”
The woman returns with our order, and Derrick mutters a polite thank you before swiping up his shot.
“It’s simple enough. We each take turns buying shots until one of us passes out.” My mouth pops open, but he presses the tip of his finger beneath my chin to close it. “Kidding.”
The perilous liquid glares at me. “You do realize that if I pass out, you’re going to have to carry me all the way back to the hotel, right?”
The crack of his hand slapping the bartop makes the bartender jump. “Wow.TheJuliana Ramirez, the one and only infamous best friend—and troublemaker—of an equally infamous pain in my ass, is afraid of a little drinking game.”
My nose wrinkles as he picks up the glass and places it near his full lips.
There’s something classically handsome about Derrick’s strong nose and jawline. There’s a light dusting of blond stubble around his mouth. I bet it would tickle my lips if I were to kiss him.
“I expected more from you,mi corazon.”
My heart.
Flutters come alive in my belly. Since that first night we met, when those goons showed up at Margie’s and we hightailed it to The Pound, I haven’t been able to shake the immense warmth I feel whenever I’m around him. No man I’ve ever been with studies my lips as I speak the way he does, or compliments me with a single sinful glance.
Derrick drinks his shot without a hint of difficulty, nodding my way before flipping the glass upside down.
Ha!I grew up with three brothers and a sister; competition is my middle name.
I lean in close, making sure he gets a bird’s-eye view of my rack before whispering, “Game on.” The glass empties quick as I toss it back. Following suit, I slam it down on the counter. If he thinks he can outdrink me, he’s in for a hell of a surprise. Tequila is my love language.
“Can we get another round?” we ask the bartender in unison, and I slide a wary gaze his way.
This may lead to nothing but trouble.
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