“Maybe.”
She cups the back of my neck and gives me a quick, hard kiss. “Bring it, Dexter.”
Twelve
Fiona
Ho-boy, I’m in trouble with this man. He gives me a quick, impish grin as he rises from his seat, that big, bold body flexingand stretching beneath his worn jeans and tight gray T-shirt. He’s completely unaware of how sexy he is, which only makeshim hotter.
But he isn’t stupid. He knows his boldness is irresistible to me. His fist raps once against the tabletop. “Game on, Cherry.”
Gray and Ivy are sauntering back, their faces aglow with sweat and happiness. “We were fucking awesome,” Gray announces justas Dex walks off.
My attention is on Dex’s taut ass. I kind of want to follow him and smack it.
Seriously, his ass is a work of art. I’m pretty sure if I ever see it bare I’ll spontaneously combust.
Heat washes over my thighs. I want to see it bare. I want him. Badly enough to risk a reckless, long-distance relationship?
Gray finally notices Dex by the stage. “No fucking way!” He glances at me, his eyes wide. “He’s not, is he?”
My cheeks hurt from the stretch of my smile. “He is.”
Ivy plops down next to me and takes a long drink of her beer. “Someone should check outside and see if pigs are flying.”
Gray is still wide-eyed and gaping as he sits next to her. “No shit. What gives, Fi-Fi?”
“Why are you looking at me?” I blink with all the innocence I can muster.
“It has to be about you when it comes to Dex.”
I’m not going to acknowledge how that sentiment warms me. Instead, I watch Dex make his selection and say a few words to thekaraoke operator. A flutter of nerves goes through my middle. He looks relaxed enough, but his shoulders are tight.
Shit. I made him go up there.
Well, notmade.It was his idea.
To impress you.
Color me impressed. He has more guts than I do. No way would I sing in public. Cats fighting under a full moon sound betterthan me.
I shift in my seat, leaning forward, then plopping back, as Gray pulls out his phone and gets ready to film, all the whilegoing on about hell freezing over and Dex leaping into the deep end of the crazy pool.
Maybe I should put a stop to this?
Dex takes the mic and slowly walks up the stairs to the stage.
There’s a ripple running through the audience. They’ve recognized him too. Shit on a Popsicle stick. He’s going to hate this.
My fists clench as he takes center stage, his head bent, his hand clutching the mic tight.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m halfway out of my chair to stop him when the music starts. I recognize the opening notes. He’s picked “Gold on the Ceiling”by The Black Keys.
“Bold choice,” Gray mutters.
My heart is pounding so hard, I can barely breathe.
