Make a Move

by Meika Usher

  I laughed, too. I couldn’t help it. His laugh was contagious. “I didn’t want to offend you.”

  “Why would I be offended?” He took a swig of his beer. “I own my nerdiness.”

  That, he did. My eyes took another tour of him. He did not try to hide who he was. He wore his identity like a goddamn badge of honor. And it was sexy as hell.

  Okay. That was the beer talking.

  Clearing my throat, I eased my chair ever-so-slightly away from the table. As if distance were going to undo that errant—and baffling—thought. Probably, I still had blue balls from my orgasm-less encounter the other night. That had to be the reason I was suddenly objectifying poor, sweet, unsuspecting Nate Kim.

  “So,” I said, ready to change the subject. “How is the comic book business? You know, now that you’re all rich and famous.”

  Nate shifted in his seat and took a long swig of beer before answering. “I’m neither rich nor famous,” he said, discomfort deepening the lines around his eyes. “But...yeah. I guess it’s going well. My brother is trying to convince me to open a second store.”

  An expert sidestep, if I did say so myself. I’d allow it. For now. I propped an elbow on the table and rested my hand in my palm. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  “I’ve got two,” he said, glancing up. “One older, one younger.”

  “Huh.” I sipped my beer. “Which one’s got the big ideas?”

  “That’d be Aidan, the youngest.” Nate’s fingertips drummed against his mug. “He just graduated from Sutcliffe and is ready to take over the world in the way only brand new college grads are.”

  “Uh huh, uh huh,” I murmured, lifting my beer. “Is he cute?”

  A laugh rumbled through him and settled over me like the heat from a crackling campfire. Man, I had to get him to do that more often. Or never again.

  Probably never again.

  “His husband seems to think so,” he answered, the smile still clinging to his lips.

  “All right.” I nodded and forced my eyes away from said lips. Shouldn’t be noticing his lips, anyway. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.” He slid the menu to the middle the table. “Ben ate all the dip, and the rest of the guys pounced on whatever was left. It was like lions on a zebra.”

  I snorted as I opened the menu. “That’s...quite the comparison.”

  “Accurate, though.” He leaned in, elbows on the table, and read the menu upside down. “What’s good here?”

  I raised a brow. “You trust me to pick your food after last night? You were in a carb coma when you left.”

  “Yes, but it was delicious.” He inched the menu closer with his index finger. His long, elegant index finger. “Help me, food Yoda.”

  I ripped my gaze from his hand to look at his face. Shouldn’t be noticing his hands, either.

  Okay, I slid the beer away from me. Far, far away. You are cut off. I grabbed the menu. “All right,” I said, reading through the list of typical bar food. “What are you in the mood for?”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, my mind filled in the blanks. And none of the things flashing through my mind were on the menu. I squinted harder at the words, but nope. Nate’s hands on my body, definitely was not an appetizer.

  Across the table, silence echoed.

  I looked up. Nate’s eyes were locked on me. Something flickered behind those glasses. Something that mirrored my own thoughts.

  A flash of heat flared in my tummy and, for a brief—really brief—moment, I wondered if his mind had gone the way of the horndog like mine had.

  Nate was the first to break. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m sorry, what?”

  “What do you want to eat?” I said, intentionally rephrasing. I narrowed my eyes on the menu and read aloud with more enunciation—and maybe a hint of desperation—than necessary. “Burger? Fries? Mozzarella sticks?”

  “Fries are good,” he said quickly, shifting in his seat. I looked up. Could have sworn he was blushing. Hard to tell in this shitty lighting, but...I was almost positive. “How about fries?”

  “Just fries?” I flagged down the lone waitress—a chipper college student named Melanie—and glanced his way. “Are you sure?”

  “Just fries.” He nodded and kept his eye on something just over my shoulder. And then I knew, without visual confirmation, that he was definitely blushing.

  And I didn’t know how to feel about that.

  Because if I let myself feel anything about it, I might’ve leaned across the table and given him a reason to blush.

  9: Nate

  What are you in the mood for?

  Birdie’s question echoed in my mind. Birdie’s innocent question. Birdie’s innocent question that I’d somehow twisted into something filthy and...fascinating in my mind.

  In a matter of seconds, my brain had called up images of Birdie and I doing all kinds of inappropriate things together. Naked, filthy things. Things I was most definitely in the mood for.

  My jeans had not accommodated that line of thinking.

  I needed a drink.

  Well, I mentally amended, noting the half-empty mug in front of me. I needed another drink. Or, maybe, no drinks at all. I wasn’t sure which option would prevent further...inappropriate thoughts from forming in my brain.

  What are you in the mood for?

  Goddammit.

  Two hours, countless beers, and a mountain of fries later, and those words would not stop ringing in my ears.

  “Tell me something, Nate,” Birdie said now, yanking my full attention back to her. As if it had really left in the first place.

  “Sure,” I said, doing my best to not notice how the overhead light caught a glimmer in her eyes. Had they always been so blue?

  She took a deep swig of her beer before she continued. “You have a girlfriend?”

  A girlfriend.

  I yanked my gaze from hers and wiped a drop of condensation from my mug. The word rolled the word around in my brain. Girlfriend.

  Girl. Friend.

  Not since Lucy.

  Lucy, who was my girlfriend for four years.

  Lucy, who decided five years ago that she needed to “sow her oats,” before settling down.

  I cleared my throat—and the image of tiny, adorable, heart-crushing Lucy—from my mind. “Nope,” I said, then volleyed the question back to her. “You?”

  “Nope,” she replied without hesitation. “No boyfriend, either. But this isn’t about me.”

  “It isn’t?” I leaned my chair back and let the beer buzz flow warm through my veins. It’d been a while since I’d had this much to drink. A long while. “Why not?”

  “Because I said so.” Her cheeks were flushed a very pretty pink, and my fingers itched to see if they were as soft as they looked. I gripped my drink tighter. “Anyway. Why not?” she asked.

  “Why not what?” I let the chair fall forward with a thump and frowned at her.

  “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  My lip curled of its own volition. How many times had I been asked this question? Between my parents and Sunny and my brothers and my parents and...well, everyone, basically. “Do I need a reason?” I asked instead of answering her question. Because that was better than spilling my sob story all over the table between us.

  Nobody wanted that.

  “Well, no.” She plopped her elbows onto the table and propped her chin in a palm, eyes bright. “It’s just...” She trailed off, gaze traveling over my face.

  “Just...” I prompted, dropping my eyes to the beer in front of me.

  “You’re downright adorable,” she finished. “You should have a girlfriend.”

  I straightened my spine, her words like a bucket of ice over my head. “Downright adorable,” I repeated. And, just like that, every steamy image that had flickered through my brain all evening vanished. “Just what every guy wants to hear.”

  “No, no.” She raised a hand in defense. “I didn’t mean—“
/>
  “It’s all right,” I cut in. I didn’t need her to justify her statement. I knew. I had nerd written all over me. And, well, Birdie did not. Downright adorable was almost a compliment coming from her.

  Except that it wasn’t.

  I picked up my drink and drained it. “I think I need another drink. You want anything?”

  “Sure,” she said as I stood. I nodded and headed across the bar, where Vaughn leaned against the counter, looking cooler than I could ever hope to be. I bet he didn’t get called downright adorable.

  “Anyone ever call you downright adorable, Vaughn?” I asked as I reached him.

  Vaughn laughed, and even his laugh was cool. “Only thing adorable about me is the Mickey Mouse tattoo on my ass.”

  I stopped, wallet half lifted. “Wait, really?”

  “Yeah. Wanna see?”

  I knew I was drunk when I thought about it for a full eight seconds before declining. “Maybe next time?” I said, pulling out a few bills for the beer.

  Vaughn shrugged, nonplussed. “It ain’t going anywhere, man.” And then he slid two fresh bottles across the counter. “She gets mean after five.” He tilted his head toward Birdie. “This is four. Just so you know.”

  “Oh.” I took the beers. “Thanks?”

  Vaughn nodded then went back to wiping down the counter. I headed back to Birdie, vaguely wondering if she’d had anything to drink back at Sunny’s. If so, would this beer make more than five? And if it did, how mean was mean?

  After a moment of consideration, I decided that if I could survive years of friendship with Birdie’s sister, who was an absolute beast at times, I’d be okay. I dropped the beer down in front of her and took my seat. “Does Vaughn actually have a Mickey Mouse tattoo on his ass?”

  “Yep,” Birdie said without hesitation. “I put it there.” She squared her shoulders, pride radiating from her. “I did his left sleeve, too.”

  I looked back to Vaughn. His left arm was covered in tattoos, shoulder to wrist. I couldn’t make them out from here, but I was sure there wasn’t a Disney character to be found. “How long did that take?” I asked Birdie, turning back to her.

  “All in all, about forty hours.” She wiped a droplet of beer from the side of her mug. “Over about six sessions.”

  I let out a low whistle. “That’s a long time.”

  She shrugged. “His back took longer.” Then, she leaned in and narrowed her eyes on my face. “Anyway.”

  I leaned in, too. “Anyway?”

  “What I said earlier.” Her eyes found mine, earnest and wide. “I didn’t mean it.”

  I waved her off. “It’s okay if you did. I’m used to it.”

  The truth in those words sat heavy in the air between us. If Birdie noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  No, really. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, either. Just sat there, elbows on the table, face inches from mine. I stayed put, too, convinced that if I moved, I’d somehow ruin...something. Though I didn’t know what.

  I’ve been thinking about you all night, I wanted to say. I’ve been thinking very bad things about you.

  “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night.”

  It took me a good ten seconds to realize that I hadn’t said those words. That Birdie said those words. Aloud. To me.

  “I...oh.”

  That was it. My entire response. An impossibly gorgeous creature was sitting across from me, telling me she’d been thinking of kissing me all night, and all I could say was, I, oh.

  No wonder I’d never gotten laid.

  “I’m just telling you,” she continued, her voice like black silk. “So that when I do it, you won’t be surprised.” She paused and her eyes dropped to my lips. Her tongue darted out to lick her own. “Because I’m gonna kiss you.”

  Every cell in my body went hot simultaneously.

  Earlier tonight, my mind had rudely played images of Birdie and I in highly improbable situations. I’d been confused. Annoyed. Irritatingly aroused. Now I wondered...maybe they’d been visions of the future.

  Fuck, I was drunk.

  But not drunk enough to squander this moment. I leaned in just a bit closer, my eyes locking on hers. The air vibrated between us as I let the words fall from my lips:

  “So do it.”

  10: Birdie

  Okay, so maybe it was the alcohol pushing through my bloodstream. Or my infamously bad judgment. Or the fact that I hadn’t had a good kiss—a really good kiss—in so, so long.

  Or maybe it was the way Nate’s bottom lip curved, soft and inviting, when he smiled. Like it was begging for my tongue to run across it. Like it was promising something more.

  Whatever it was, I was so okay with it leading me here.

  Pushing to my feet, I rounded the table and relished in the feel of Nate’s eyes following my every step. He didn’t move. Just watched me approach, his expression unreadable. Or maybe that was his glasses giving that impression. The glare from the low-hanging lights shined back at me. I leaned in close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body.

  “Take off your glasses,” I whispered, needing to see what was going on in those dark eyes.

  Without a word, he obeyed. The glasses clattered to the tabletop as he spun in his seat and faced me. And then his hand found the curve of my waist and pulled. I stumbled forward, landing firmly in his lap.

  Surprise mingled with awareness—hot and sharp—shooting through my veins like lightning bolts. I turned my head toward him, a playful response on the tip of my tongue, but then...

  Then, he kissed me.

  No, that wasn’t accurate.

  He claimed me.

  His mouth covered mine in a way that extracted the breath straight from my lungs. Literally. I couldn’t breathe.

  Nate pushed his fingers into my hair and ran his tongue along my bottom lip, asking wordlessly for permission. I gladly granted it, opening my mouth beneath his. Twisting my body toward him, I let my hands find his shoulders. Strong, sturdy shoulders. Somewhere in the alcohol-and-desire fog of my brain, I registered that this was not what I thought Nate would feel like against my body.

  This was better.

  I leaned in closer, pushing my breasts against his chest. His free hand trailed up my spine, settling firmly between my shoulder blades. And then he deepened the kiss, leaning me backward until that hand was the only thing keeping me from falling to the floor.

  Digging my fingers into his shoulders, I held on tight and kissed him back. I met his every nip and lick and caress, letting the flicker inside me roar to life.

  Jesus, I thought as Nate dragged his mouth from mine to find the most tender place on my neck. This is not what I expected.

  “Not that I’m not enjoying the show,” a deep voice rumbled, cutting through the smoke around us. “But this is a family establishment, and that is...very much not a family activity.”

  Nate pulled me upright and I turned to find Vaughn standing behind us, a smirk on his face.

  If I were the kinda girl to get embarrassed, I probably would have blushed. Instead, I grinned. “Aw, come on, Vaughn. Family establishment?”

  Vaughn shrugged. “It could be a family establishment.”

  I turned, still sitting on Nate’s lap, and rested my back against his chest. His solid, not smooshy, chest. The motion drew my attention to a distinct bulge pressing into my ass. I wriggled ever-so-slightly and relished in the sharp intake of breath behind me.

  “Fine, fine,” I said to Vaughn, pretending I didn’t notice Nate’s fingertips digging into my waist. “We’ll take it elsewhere.” Motioning to the booze debris on the table, I added, “Put this on my tab?”

  “You got it, Bird.” Vaughn smirked once more before heading back to the bar, muttering something under his breath that sounded like, poor boy doesn’t know what he’s getting into.

  Once he was out of earshot, I reached a hand beneath my ass and traced my fingers over the outline of Nate’s cock. “My place is just ar
ound the corner.”

  Nate’s grip on my waist tightened and his hips jerked upward. I swallowed a gasp and lifted my face to his. “Is that a yes?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged my mouth to his and kissed me, harsh and deep. And, well, I guess that was an answer in and of itself.

  Once we parted, I stood and extended my hand. He took it and let me pull him to his feet. We didn’t even bother pulling on our coats. Just tucked them beneath our arms as we headed for the exit.

  Two blocks. That was all we had to walk. Two whole blocks. And we’d be inside my apartment. We’d be in my bedroom. We’d be in my bed.

  The thought alone had my bones liquefying. If that kiss was anything to go by, this was going to be—

  “Wait, wait.” Nate’s fingers tightened around mine as he pulled me to a stop.

  I turned toward him, the cold night air fogging around my face as I exhaled. The streetlight illuminated every curve and dip of his face and, hell, how had I never noticed how beautiful he was? Like a goddamn Korean angel. Which made what I was about to do to him straight up blasphemous.

  “There...there’s something you should know,” he was saying, and I had to drag my mind away from the very dirty gutter it’d been headed toward.

  “If it’s that you don’t usually do this, I don’t need you to tell me.” I tugged him toward me, until we were flush against each other, the heat of our bodies turning the chill in the air to steam. “And I don’t want you to stop me.”

  He hesitated for half a second before lowering his mouth to mine. A whimper escaped my throat as I stood on tiptoe and kissed him back. Hungrily. Fiercely.

  Taking one step forward, Nate backed me into a wall. His tongue delved into my mouth, deep and slow, and liquid heat pooled low in my abdomen as I imagined pushing his head lower and lower and—

  “If we don’t stop,” I panted, pulling my mouth from his. “I’m going to fuck you right here in the street.”

  A husky laugh vibrated through me, and I closed my eyes. That, too, I could feel everywhere.

  “Well, then we better stop.” He dragged his knuckles across my jawline and I forced my eyes open. He’d pushed his glasses up into his hair, and I found myself looking right into his eyes. Heat flashed out at me, mirroring my current state. But something else shimmered in the deep, dark depths, too. Restraint? Hesitance?