She’s wearing a black midriff, which exposes the smooth bronze skin of her lower back, a short plaid skirt with stud and chain embellishments, and black combat boots.
It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Desire grabs me by the balls and though there’s a real possibility she’ll kick my ass with those boots, I move toward her.
When I’m right behind her, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Hey, Shorty.”
She stiffens and crosses her arms. “Don’t call me Shorty.”
“Would you prefer Munchkin? Or Shortstack?” She turns to glare at me over her shoulder, her gorgeous pink lips pursed in annoyance. “How about Babydoll? That would really match your sparkling personality, don’t you think?”
“If you call me Babydoll one more time, I’m going to make a very loud, very public announcement about your antibiotic resistant strain of the clap.”
She would too.
“Shorty it is.”
Sutton groans and her eyes go round as I drape an arm over her shoulders. “You are the literal worst. Your mom must be so proud.”
“She is.” I smirk down at her, and when she doesn’t shrug off my touch, I add, “Just last month, she said I was the light of her life.”
My mom didn’t actually say those words, but I’m sure she’d agree.
Sutton shifts her weight from one foot to the other and her shoulder muscles tighten.
“How long have you been standing in this line?”
“I don’t know.” She glances around, like she’s searching for the answer. “Ten minutes?”
So, probably twenty.
“This isn’t the only bathroom in the house,” I whisper-shout, leaning in close to get a hit of that sweet jasmine scent that always seems to surround her. “There’s another one upstairs.”
“I’m not going upstairs with you.”
“Relax, Shorty.” I give an exaggerated eye roll and tilt my face toward hers. “If I wanted to hook up, I’d ask someone who doesn’t hate my guts.”
She laughs and it’s a quiet, husky sound that speaks directly to my cock.
“For your information,” she says, lifting her chin. “I’m not short. I’m five-four, which is average.”
“For a gymnast?”
“For a woman,” she retorts, emphasizing the last word.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I’m six-three. You’re short by comparison.”
“Everyone is short by comparison because you’re a giant man-child.”
“I resent that.”
She waves a hand dismissively, shrugging off my arm. “Resent away.”
I’m out of snappy comebacks, so I return to the real issue at hand. “As much fun as this is, I have no desire to stand in the bathroom line all night. Are you sure you don’t want to ditch this shitshow and go upstairs?”
She nods, but there’s uncertainty in her dark eyes.
“Suit yourself.” I shrug, pretending I couldn’t care less. “But pissing yourself on Greek Row is a whole other walk of shame.”
