Page 106 of Playbook
“Ready?” he asks, sliding us over toward the open door.
“What about…”
He grins all mischievous and smug. “I’m being responsible, temptress. Come on. I’ve got the limo all night.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Yourented the limo?” London asks as we file into the bar.
Shit. I did not mean to let that slip. I don’t want her to think I’m flashing around my money.
“It’s no big deal.” When Ben suggested we get a couple Ubers for the night, I knew I needed to intervene. I’ve only been to a few bachelor parties, but I know that it’s all about extravagance and fun. Two things I do very well.
“Thank you.” She looks up at me with those stunning green eyes all soft. Her bottom lip has an indent from where her teeth were biting into it earlier as I fingered her in the limo. “I should have thought of that.”
“You’ve done a great job.” I scan the group. “Everyone is having a blast.”
London beams with pride. “That’s because you’re such a good party planner.”
“I am, aren’t I?” I wink at her. “And I think it’s time for you and me to dance.”
“Dance?” She laughs and looks around. It’s a small bar, crowded with twenty-somethings. The only way we’re getting a drink is to push and shove our way with everyone else and I’m much more interested in her.
“One dance. I love this song,” I say, leading her through the middle of the bar to one side where a guy with a guitar is crooning into the microphone. It’s a cover of a popular 90s rock song, slowed down but still with a nice beat.
I wrap one arm around her waist and with my free hand, lace our fingers together. We hold our joined hands up at chest level and she drapes her right hand on my bicep.
Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol or maybe the orgasm, but I think some of her tipsiness has worn off. She’s been chugging water more than booze. Probably a smart choice honestly, but I’d take care of her either way.
It turns out I don’t mind not being the center of the party as long as I can be the center of her attention.
She looks up at me, features soft and dreamy like she’s happy. Me too.
“Hey, I have a question,” she says.
“Yes, I definitely plan to fuck you in that limo later.”
“Not that.” She laughs. “But good to know.”
I wait for her to continue. It takes her a beat, so I know whatever it is she wants to ask is more serious than fucking.
“When you said you never really had a dad and that Archer’s mom was more of one than your own, what did you mean? Where were your parents?”
I still for a second. A small part of me wants to open myself up and show her all of it. The good. The bad. The really ugly.
“You don’t want to hear my sad story tonight.”
She keeps staring at me, like maybe she does.
“I think if we’re going to try to get into Gaga, we should go sooner rather than later. Your sister’s friends look like they’re a couple drinks shy of crying in the bathroom.”
It takes her a moment, but she lets me off the hook, glances over at the group and nods. “It’s okay. Gaga was a long shot anyway.”
“I can get us in.”
One of her dark brows lifts. “Oh, you can, can you?”
“I know a guy.” I shrug. I don’t like to use my name or the team for myself, but I have no problem doing it to make sure London has the night she hoped for.
