“Full of surprises. Care to share?” He grins.
I wince.
“I saw that look. Now you must share.”
I’m definitely asking the wrong questions, because somehow he’s coming out unscathed and I’m revealing all my secrets.
“All right. I have one tattoo, right here.” I point to the front left of my hip. “It’s a heart, very simple. I walked into a tattoo parlor after a couple drinks when I turned twenty-one and picked it off the wall.”
He doesn’t need to know the deeper meaning. My truths aren’t the reason we’re here.
Zac’s eyes are fixed on my hip, his teeth tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A heart, huh?” His stare darts up to my eyes. “So you really are cupid.”
“Ha ha,” I say, going for the ball and avoiding his eyes. “More like young and dumb.”
We continue taking turns, my head spinning a little more with each strike of the ball on the pins.
“Never have I ever had a one-night stand,” he says.
We stare at each other for a beat before taking tight-lipped drinks without much discussion.
My turn again.
“Never have I ever ghosted someone,” I throw out.
A heated debate begins over how we define “ghosted” and when it counts—if you’ve kissed someone, slept with them. That circles us back to defining what exactly is a one-night stand. We’re both internally defending ourselves for poor decisions.
“Never have I ever been out of the country.”
Him yes, me no.
We finish our second drinks and reach the end of the game. My winning streak is upheld—I left Zac in the dust by the second half.
“Final question,” Zac says, turning as the pins reset behind him. “Never have I ever been in love.”
I tap the edge of my glass and bounce it on my knee, but I don’t take a drink.
“Never?”
I shake my head. “You?”
He walks over, reaches out for my hand, and helps me up. He towers over me, and I have to crane my neck just to look up at him.
“I thought I was once,” he says. “Caitlyn. She was around before I started making any money, so I knew it wasn’t about that.”
“But?” I sense it before he says it.
He frowns. “She was in love with someone else.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I was eighteen, wouldn’t have known love if it kicked me in the face.” Zac sets his empty glass down next to mine on the table, but he hasn’t let my hand go.
I know I shouldn’t keep hold, but his warm skin on mine lights every nerve ending. His gaze falls to my lips, and even with music blasting through the speakers, my heartbeat is deafening.
He takes a step closer, his bright green eyes reading my face like it’s an open book. Heat radiates off his body, drawing attention to the fraction of space that would be all too easy to close. One lift onto my toes, one inch forward. Our mouths hang a breath apart while the ache between my legs chants for release. I’d do anything to relieve the pressure of Zac being this close, feeling this warm, smelling this good.
Zac lifts a hand and runs the pad of his finger along my jaw, slowly down my neck and over my shoulder, lighting a trail of heat that with one match would make me go up in flames. He’s daring me to call him out for crossing the line between business and pleasure. Testing my resolve.