Chapter Nine
Fannin
“Shelby, I’m leaving here in ten minutes. You can come with me if you want. Hell, you can even stay here, but I’m leaving.” From her spot on my couch she pouts.
“Fine. I’m coming with you, but not for long. I have so much work to do. I thought I would come here and my workaholic friend would motivate me. But noooo. My workaholic friend is on the prowl for a hottie Scotty.”
“Ew. Don’t call him that,” I laugh as I slip on my silver rhinestone encrusted Louboutin’s.
“What? He totally is. I’d do filthy things to him and that beard.” Shelby waggles her eyebrows at me.
“You’re awful, you know that, right?”
“Oh whatever. I’ve seen your vibe stash—you’re dirtier than I am. Kinky ass white girl.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. “Stay out of my vibe drawer.”
“See that shit right there? Who has a vibe drawer?”
“I do. Now let’s go. Our Uber is downstairs waiting on us.”
“That’s another thing. You’re gonna get our asses killed one day with this Uber bullshit.”
“Stop being a baby. Nobody is killing anyone.” Pulling her out the door, I lock it behind us and loop my arm through hers. Shelby and I went to college together. Roommates at Columbia all four years and then for a couple years after graduation. Until she met and fell in love with her man Charles and moved into his SoHo loft.
“So tell me more about how he kissed you in front of Adam and Bethany.” The happy gleam in her eyes mirrors mine.
Shoving her into the Uber, we say hi to the young kid driving and tell him where to go. “He did. They were being extra fucking awful for his benefit I think, and I just let it fly—“
“You need to quit that. You can’t let them just be nasty to you, girl.”
“I don’t even care. I mean, why bother? Let them show their asses and be dicks. I couldn’t care less.”
“Whatever. You’re a better person than I am. And it’s not like you. The Fannin I know would straight-up cut a bitch.”
“I know. But the way I see it is they’re doing it to get a reaction out of me. It pisses them off more that I don’t react. That’s how I win.”
“Okay, I can see that. But still. Don’t let them put you down. Pretty soon you’ll start believing that shit and then you and I are gonna fight.”
Laughing I hug her to me, “I will never believe a thing those two say to or about me. Don’t you worry about that.”
A few minutes later we’re pulling up to the Iron Flask, a small group of people standing outside waiting to get in.
“A wait, on a Thursday night?”
“I don’t know, he said that they were really busy and he couldn’t leave. This is good though. It’ll make our job easier.”
“True. But do we have to wait?” She looks at me skeptically.
“Umm, no. I think I’m kind of dating the bartender. Maybe. I think. That has to give me some kind of special VIP treatment, right?” I shoot off a quick text to Jasper letting him know I’m here.
Shelby nods. “For sure.”
“Come on.” Handing our driver the money, I slide out to find Jasper already waiting at the door, a sexy grin lighting up his face.
“Girl. If you don’t sex him up tonight, I might,” Shelby says in a low voice.
“I’ll tell Charles,” I shoot back before weaving through the crowd to get to Jasper.
It’s been a long time since I had this feeling about a man. The one where you’re in a constant state of semi, if not full-blown, arousal, butterflies in your stomach that sometimes feel more like a murder of crows and an excitement you experience with nothing else in life. Anything pertaining to him—a phone call, text, a fleeting thought, a dinner date, the mention of his name . . . whatever—brings it on. It’s a magical feeling, and I hadn’t realized that I’d been missing it until I found myself floating around in its euphoric haze since the moment I met Jasper.
With the door propped open, he chats with the people milling about as he waits for us alongside the burly security guy in a Men in Black-looking suit. He’s outgoing and charismatic in a way that most of my fellow New Yorkers aren’t. It’s refreshing. With an inviting smile he gives them a rundown on wait times and tells them to be sure to try the honey whisky, the bar’s newest batch. When we reach him, he takes my hand and pulls me into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s one of those moments the butterflies are more like swooping birds. Glancing at Shelby, she gives me a wide-eyed “get it, girl” look that I try not to laugh at. It’s hard with that damn googly-eyed face. Jasper waves to the waiting customers and leads us inside the busy room.
“Sorry about that. You ladies look amazing. I’ll have to keep a bouncer by the bar to watch over you.” His voice is raised to be heard over the chatter around us. At the bar, he helps Shelby into a chair then turns to me. Wrapping large hands around my waist, he unnecessarily lifts me and places me on a leather padded stool at the end of the bar. Our eyes locked on each other, I recognize it for exactly what it is. Foreplay. One simple touch and I’m hot for him. Hell, who am I kidding, he smiled at me from the front door and I was hot for him. But I’m not alone. It’s there in the bright blue of his eyes. If he could, he would bend me over this bar right here. Right now. I’m not sure I wouldn’t let him. As soon as I’m settled, he leans into me, spreading my legs just a little as he places his hands on my jean clad thighs. I can feel my nipples pebble against the silk of my white tank, thankful for my thin leather jacket hiding them from view right now. Is it normal to be this turned on just from being close to him?
With his gaze still locked on mine, he moves in, brushing my wild hair back. My eyelids start to flutter closed all on their own in anticipation of his kiss. Instead of his lips on mine, I feel his warm breath against my ear. “Don’t drink too much tonight. I’m taking you home. I’ve thought of nothing else all day other than how un-gentlemanly I want to get with you. Seeing you step out of that car was all it took to push me over the edge of control. I’m taking you. Not to dinner like I promised earlier though. Just so we’re clear.”
My breathing is ragged, my panties beyond damp. All I can do is nod.
Jasper chuckles, finally kissing me . . . on my temple. “Good girl.” He pushes away and circles the bar to pour our drinks like he didn’t just rock my world with a dirty promise.