“Do you actually know how to two-step?” I take a swig of my beer and eye the woman beside me with amusement.

She’s cute, especially in her little outfit. The blue tank top brings out her eyes, and the cutoff shorts accentuate her slim legs, which disappear into a pair of dark brown boots.

The blonde nudges me playfully with her shoulder, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles. “Nope. But I’m a quick learner.”

“Ah, so you figured I’d be a good instructor. That’s why you sought me out?” I’m enjoying the hell out of this—our banter—and it’s helping me to get my mind off…well, her, while I wait for Grayson since he’s running late.

“Well, the way you strolled up to the bar, just so, tipped me off.” She peers up at me, and that teasing lilt to her words washes over me and…

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Shit.

Mentally shaking off the frustration and the lingering memory of the hottest damn kiss I’ve ever had, I force myself to regroup.

“Maybe we can start with a slow dance?” Her hopeful expression is endearing, and I’m grateful she doesn’t do the whole tacky pouting expression like some women do.

They’ve just begun to play a slow Miranda Lambert song, so I set my beer on the bar even though I’ve only drunk a quarter of it because, hell, when a beautiful woman asks you to dance, you dance.

I extend my hand, and the instant she slips hers in my grasp, I wait for a beat before leading her onto the dance floor. I wait because I was expecting—hoping, even—for her touch to spark something in me. To feel a crackling sense of attraction. Anything.

Forcing these thoughts to the back of my mind, I inwardly scold myself. Get yourself together. She seems nice, and she’s pretty. Stop being an ass.

When she rests her palms on my shoulders, I settle my hands at her waist, and we sway. I dip my head to bring my lips close to her ear so she can hear me over the music, and my tone is teasing. “I didn’t even get your name. If I’m going to teach you how to two-step, I should at least know my student’s name.”

She leans back, and her blond hair shifts, sliding back over her shoulder in a silky curtain. With a grin, she answers. “Mel.”

“Mel,” I repeat, testing the name out and hating that I don’t like her name as much as another. “Nice to meet you. I’m Reid.”

Her eyes widen, and she appears startled for a moment before tossing her head back on a tiny laugh. “Reid. What a coincidence.”

Frowning, I peer down at her. “How’s that?”

“Well, my best friend actually works with a guy named Reid who…”

I don’t hear anything past that because Mel’s voice fades into nothingness when I spot her. And it’s not simply the sight of Callie that causes me to stiffen, my spine going ramrod straight.

No, it’s the sight of her in some other guy’s arms. Smiling up at him with an utterly carefree expression. Her hands are on his body, lightly gripping his biceps. It shouldn’t be happening.

Because she’s mine.

“Is there a reason for your scowl?” Mel’s question, the subtle teasing lilt, drags my attention from Callie.

I force a tight smile. “Sorry. It turns out I’m that Reid.”

Her brow furrows before her lips form an O. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” I counter. My eyes flick over Mel’s shoulder to Callie who’s now spotted me.

And I respond to the death glare she’s shooting me the only way I possibly can.

With a wide, shit-eating grin. Because I know it’ll piss her off even more.

“She said you’re, uh”—Mel tenses visibly—“a dick.”

“Do you realize what it’s like to train her? For a position that should’ve been mine?” I force my words between gritted teeth, feeling my blood pressure rise exponentially. “She doesn’t even like beer, for God’s sake. Yet she’s in a management trainee position.” My jaw clenches tightly before I finish. “At. A. Brewery.”

Mel’s expression turns resolute. “That might be true, but she’s got a lot of heart, and she is trying hard.”

“Right. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that she wears those tight little black pants and skirts at work.”

Her tone is icy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she has to know what she’s doing.” My voice is curt. “She knows how she looks in her clothes.”

My eyes once again wander to where Callie’s still dancing with the cowboy wearing the oversized belt buckle. God knows, he’s likely compensating for what’s lacking between his legs. She must sense that I’m talking about her because while her lips continue moving, probably telling him some entertaining story about wine—not beer, of course—her eyes clash with mine.

“And how does she look in her clothes?” Mel’s question barely registers, my concentration resting solely on my co-worker.

“She looks...” I break off, pinching my lips together and lowering my gaze to Mel’s shoulder.

Because, in the nick of time, I catch myself from saying something I shouldn’t. Something I have no business thinking, let alone saying aloud.

She looks beautiful and far too damn appealing. I shouldn’t even notice how toned her thighs are in those short shorts, nor be jealous of the frayed strings from the denim that are lucky enough to brush against her skin. I hate that my eyes skim along her arms and over the skin of her shoulders and neck, bared by the tank top. That cotton fabric encases her breasts lovingly, and I swear I catch sight of the slightest hint of her nipples hardening beneath it.

Fuck. It’s not cool to get a damn hard-on for one woman while dancing with another.

Not cool at all.

“Maybe you two just need to work out your differences.” Mel’s response catches me off guard, and the next thing I know, this petite blonde is tugging expectantly on my wrist.

“What are you doing?” I finally relent and allow her to lead me across the dance floor.

Right over to the bane of my damn existence.

Over to the woman I can’t seem to get off my mind.

“You two”—Mel tosses a glare in my direction, her features taking on a strong hint of exasperation at me before fixing narrowed eyes on Callie—“need to freaking dance off some of this tension.”

Suddenly, I find Callie in my embrace. My arms move of their own accord, and I settle a hand at the base of Callie’s spine. Beneath my splayed fingers, the heat of her body radiates through the thin, cotton tank. She peers up at me, wide-eyed with a startled expression. She rests a palm flat against my chest and the other on my bicep.

As if her heated touch isn’t enough torture, if I lower my eyes just a fraction, I’ll be faced with the inviting slope of the top of her breasts in her tank top.

“We’re kind of”—Callie glances around self-consciously—“standing out now.”

My body’s swaying in rhythm with hers, but I realize the slow song is over and has transitioned to a slightly more upbeat song. Numerous people are heading to the dance floor to two-step, crowding us.

Instead of releasing my hold on her, I press closer and relish the way her lips part with her sharp intake of breath. Her mouth is a deep shade of red, not the usual muted color she wears at work. It makes her lips appear fuller, more inviting, more…touchable.

“What are you doing?” She poses this question with a crease between her brows and a hint of breathlessness in her tone.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she means when I notice that the pad of my thumb is grazing her jawline. But I can’t bear to stop, can’t bear to break the contact. I drag my thumb over the pillowy softness of her bottom lip, and a puff of her hot breath washes over it. When she darts the tip of her tongue out and it touches the edge of my thumb, a rough sound erupts from the back of my throat.

My eyes lock with hers, and I repeat her question. “What am I doing?” I slowly shake my head. “Hell if I know. What I do know”—I dip my head, drawing even closer to her—“is you look so goddamn beautiful. I know I can’t seem to get you or that kiss out of my he—”

Callie’s lips swallow my words, her hands sliding to my head, fingers sifting through the short strands of my hair. My lips work over hers feverishly, but the real game changer happens the moment her tongue sweeps inside to glide against mine.

Complete game changer.

My hand at the base of her spine guides her flush against my body, and I don’t give a shit if she feels how turned on I am. I cup her nape with my other hand and tilt her head to deepen the kiss further.

“Get a room!” someone hollers, and loud, raucous laughter immediately follows.

But it serves the purpose, and Callie and I draw apart, seemingly in slow motion, dazed.

Fuck if her lips don’t have a slight sheen to them from our hot, wet kiss.

A kiss I sure as shit want to continue.

“This is a public place, you two.” Mel appears beside us, and not too discreetly draws Callie away, putting more distance between us. Every damn inch she edges away makes it feel like someone’s fist is clenching the center of my chest.

Painful.

“You’d better”—Mel circles her index finger, motioning near my crotch—“take care of that before anyone else gets the wrong idea.”

And I’m left standing in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by two-steppers, with a hard-on to rival all hard-ons.

All because of a woman I can’t seem to steer clear of.

* * *

“Then I was abducted by aliens and probed anally. It was a blast.”

My head snaps, and I stare at Grayson. “What?”

My friend’s expression is one of pure exasperation tinged with humor. “Do you have any idea how many damn times I threw twists into my story?” Frustration lines his features, and he shakes his head. “Figures the one you’d pick up on was about anal probing.”

He laid a trap, and I stepped right into it. Dammit.

“You could just”—he raises a shoulder in a half shrug—“go over there and actually talk to her,” Grayson muses, holding up his palms in surrender. “I know, I know. It’s crazy talk to suggest you two act like adults.”

I immediately take offense, my spine stiffening. “I’ve been—”

“An ass to her,” he supplies quickly, ignoring my dark glare. “Yep. You certainly have.” My friend swivels his barstool to have a better look at where Callie and Mel are talking with two guys—one of them being the same dude Callie danced with earlier.

Callie laughs at something, and then her eyes shift, clashing with mine. Her lips part, and when her tongue sweeps out to wet them, I’m entranced. Because I’d give anything to follow her tongue’s path with my own.

When I finally manage to tear my eyes away, I find Gray observing me curiously. Tiresome from his all too accurate observations, I toss back what remains of my beer, set the bottle on the bar, and slide off the barstool.

“I’m going to get some air.” I don’t wait for his response, and it’s a good thing since all I get in return is a laugh—one that’s knowing—which grates on my damn nerves.

Without a glance, I stride past where Callie’s with the others. How is it possible I can detect her sweet trademark scent? The faint but familiar hint of cherry blossoms tempts me, but I resist and continue to the side door exit. The bouncer stamps my hand for re-entry before I head outside.

Many others are standing around, smoking or chatting. The night air is thick with humidity, but I barely acknowledge it, my mind so transfixed on the woman still inside. I veer off to the right side to an unoccupied spot and lean against the waist-high brick wall serving as a partition to the outdoor area.

With a slow exhale, I cross my arms and tilt my face up to the darkened sky. The moon’s a white sliver, and only a few bright stars shimmer against the black backdrop. They shimmer much like Callie’s red lips had beneath the lights on the dance floor when she’d been in my arms earlier tonight.

Dropping my chin to my chest, I allow my eyes to fall closed on a silent groan. Why can’t I get my mind off her?

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

I immediately still, and my hair stands on end at the sound of the female voice invading my private time. I don’t dare move because I’m not sure what I might do.

Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly what I’ll do.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, I chant silently.

What do I do? I fucking look up at her. She stands a mere two feet away, and her expression is one of hesitance. She’s expecting me to be an asshole.

It’s because Gray’s right. I’ve been an ass to her. So much so that she’s come to expect it from me at each turn. It’s become the norm.

And goddammit, I hate it. I’m not this kind of person, and I don’t want Callie to think I am, either.

Callie takes a step back and holds up a palm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interr—”

“Yes.”

She frowns in confusion. “Yes?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful night.” I wave a hand, gesturing up to the sky. “This is beautiful and so are…” I hesitate slightly before forging on, “you.”

She stares at me for a few beats of silence. “Is this some sort of trick?”

I wince visibly. I deserve this. “No, it’s not.” A sigh of resignation spills from my lips before I breathe out in barely a whisper, “Just the truth.”

Callie falls silent. Then she throws up her hands, raising her voice. “I don’t get you! One minute, you’re a total asshole, and then other times, you’re…”

When she trails off, I step closer. “Other times, I’m…?”

She doesn’t answer, so I take another step, bringing us toe-to-toe. Callie tips her head back to maintain eye contact with me.

“You’re nice.” Her answer is softly spoken on a wisp of breath. “And sometimes you…”

My hands move of their own accord, settling at her hips, and my thumbs slip beneath the hem of her tank top to graze the silky skin just above her hipbones. Her sharp intake of breath draws my attention to her lips, and I dip my head lower, lower, low—

“Get me another shot while you’re at it!”

The loud, obviously drunken command is nearly deafening, and it causes both of us to jerk apart. Callie’s expression, however, causes me to act fast, the signs of disappointment etching her features.

She wanted me to kiss her. To touch her.

With this knowledge spurring me on, I grasp her dainty wrist and lead her around the corner of the building, away from the other bar patrons.

I don’t think. I just act.

Walking her back to the building, I cage her in. Shadows hang over us in this secluded spot. I splay my palms flat on either side of her head against the rough exterior. My head descends slowly, wordlessly giving her an out—time to deny me—even while I silently beg her not to.

Before our lips meet, I pause, my eyes locked with hers, and whisper, “I’ve been an ass. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze searches mine before she answers just as softly. “I accept your apology.” Her lips quirk ever so slightly. “If you stop being an ass.”

My mouth curves upward, mirroring hers. “I can do that and”—I drag my lips over hers—“more.”

Then I take her lips in a kiss that’s the furthest thing from tender.

It’s voracious. Passionate. Wet. Deep.

Fucking perfect.

She widens her stance, allowing me to press flush against her, and my hardening cock prods her stomach. My hands reach beneath her tank top and skim up to cover her bra-clad breasts, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide her puckered nipples. I brush the pads of my thumbs across the tips, and she arches into my touch, a husky sound erupting from the back of her throat.

I rock against her, and when she emits another tiny moan, I shift a hand from her breast to trail down along her side, down to the hem of her denim cutoffs. Skimming over her bare leg, I veer toward the apex of her thighs and slide a finger beneath the denim. I drag my middle finger over her cotton panties, already damp with her arousal.

Breaking the kiss, I whisper against her lips. “Is this for me?” I probe her through her panties, pressing a finger against the seam of her entrance.

“Yes.” Heavy panting accompanies her response. “God, yes.”

I glance around to ensure we’re still isolated from view before I return my attention to the woman before me.

She’s so fucking beautiful—her eyes wild, hair slightly askew, lips parted and dewy from our kiss. Just gazing down at her tightens something in the center of my chest.

Shaking off the odd feeling, I lean closer and place a kiss on the soft skin below her ear. When her breath hitches, I trail my kisses down her neck until my lips end at her collarbone. Speaking against it, I murmur, “If we were alone, I’d rip these”—I tug once against the fabric of her panties—“off and put my mouth on you.” Her pulse is erratic beneath my lips. “Then I’d taste your sweet pussy until you came all—”

Callie grabs my wrist, as if attempting to tug me closer, silently begging for more contact. I acquiesce and slip my middle finger beneath her panties.

And straight into heaven.

She arches instinctively, and when I press deeper into her wet heat, I swallow her loud moan with my mouth. My tongue sweeps inside to tangle with hers, the two dueling in a seductive dance while I slide a second finger inside her. She clutches my biceps, her grip nearly painful. I pump my fingers, slippery with her arousal, in and out of her.

Frantically, I unfasten her shorts, loosening them to allow my other hand to reach inside and rub her clit in circles while I continue thrusting my fingers. I work her with my fingers, in and out of her wet heat. Her grip tightens, nails digging into my upper arms. The tiny sounds she’s making intermixed with her choppy breaths alert me that she’s close.

Shoving her panties aside farther, I pluck her clit between my thumb and forefinger, and thrust my fingers rapidly. With just three deep thrusts, her inner muscles tighten. There’s a rapid succession of clenching before she floods my fingers with her release.

A whimper escapes her, and I continue working her with my fingers as she rides out her release. Slowly, I ease my hands from beneath her panties and wait for her eyes to open. Wait for her to see me. To recognize that I did this. That I was the guy who sent her over the edge with his fingers.

That she came all over my fingers.

Fuck, yes.

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks sated. Gorgeous. Mussed. Her skin has a sheen of perspiration on it.

Mine.

The thought is so immediate and jarring that I’m left unsettled. But the moment her lips slowly curve upward into a smile that’s intimate—a smile that says we just did something dirty and I loved it—it fills me with pride.

“Callie?”

We both startle when Mel calls out her name. Callie’s wide eyes meet mine, and I offer a comforting smile. I refasten her shorts hastily and right her tank top in the nick of time. I’m taking a step back from her when Mel steps around and spots us.

“There you...are.” Her friend’s voice falters when she spots us. “Everything okay?” Her curiosity is evident.

“Everything’s fine,” we answer in unison, our heads whipping around to stare at one another before pointedly looking away.

“Thanks for the, uh, talk.” A deep flush blooms across Callie’s cheeks, apparent even in the dim lighting, likely in dismay of her chosen words. I shift slightly in an attempt to hide my raging hard-on.

The corners of my mouth tip up in amusement. “It was a hard talk, but I’m glad we saw it through to the end.”

Callie ducks her head, getting my insinuation, and offers a shy smile. “Good night, Reid.” She steps around me, but not without casually brushing against me and copping a feel of my hard cock.

“’Night, Callie.”

“’Good night, Reid.” Mel’s tone is laced with amusement before the two disappear around the corner.

Yeah, it’s been a good night, all right. It’ll be even better tonight when I get home.

After I jerk off to the memory of her coming all over my damn fingers.

Good night, indeed.