He followed my movements intently, and a pulse thrummed low in my body when his tongue peeked out over his lower lip. “Definitely.” His gaze returned to my eyes.
I fumbled with my spoon, unsteady at his attention. All that sexual charisma I channeled with the spoon in my mouth disappeared. “Do you want to do something else to me?”
His eyes widened, and I stammered a correction.
“I mean, with me! Rather, go somewhere else?” Good save.
“Sure. Unless ice cream was on your list, you’ve still got work to do, right?” He gathered our bowls, and I admired the lines of his arms. “Where do you want to go?”
The angel and the devil on my shoulder bickered.
Somewhere public! Get to know him and stay safe.
Somewhere private! Take off his pants!
“We could find a club or something?” I hoped my voice sounded surer than I felt. The thumping bass and wall-to-wall people were not my scene at all, but I didn’t want to sound prudish.
“If you want.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not much of a club guy, though.”
“Thank God.” I smiled, relief filling me.
Four
The city below sparkled from the ninety-fourth floor of the 360-degree observation deck of the Hancock Building, and Lake Michigan provided a dark contrast to the city lights. I looked around at the thinning crowds—it was nearing closing time, and we were almost to the front of the line. We’d seen a sign advertising TILT on the way in.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I said.
“Believe me, I didn’t talk you into anything.” Jake’s hand brushed mine. “You suggested this after the last round of drinks.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.” Am I slurring my words?
We stepped forward in line. “You said you needed to try something new and marched right over to buy tickets. I tried to pay, and you wouldn’t let me. You were a little bossy about it,” he said, playfully.
Standing in a glass cubicle as it tilted forward over the Magnificent Mile fit the bill for taking a risk. Doing it next to my handsome stranger made the risk that much more appealing.
“Insisting on paying sounds like me.” I giggled, then paused, remembering the flirting articles. “Is that a turnoff, when a woman wants to pay?”
His hand fell to my lower back. “I don’t think anything about you is a turnoff. I’m going with you, aren’t I?”
My back straightened at his touch, the tingle extending lower. “And I didn’t even have to twist your arm.”
“No, I came willingly.” Jake dipped his face close to me, and his mouth was near my ear.
He smelled like the scotch he’d ordered after we arrived. The strong scent was not something I normally enjoyed, but it made me feel warm and tingly.
My cheeks flamed, and a swirl of excitement twisted low in my body. He’d found small ways to touch me since we’d left the ice cream shop. Brushing his arm against mine as we wandered the observatory, or his fingers lingering near mine when he handed me a drink. The pressure of Jake’s hand on my back was intoxicating in a different way. His wide palm swept up my spine, and I imagined it traversing my hips.
“And bossy doesn’t bother you, huh?”
“I have four sisters. I spent a lot of years being told what to do.”
“Well, I am usually quiet like a little mouse,” I mused, taking a step forward to the first position in line with Jake, his hand sliding down my back.
“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s hard to believe—you seem pretty outgoing.”
“It’s an act,” I said in a quiet voice. “Squeak!”
His laugh was low and hearty, and his big hand slipped further to rest on my waist before pulling me against his side.
I allowed my eyes to close and focused on his palm stroking between my waist and hip and not on how many drinks I’d had throughout the night. My thoughts were fuzzy and my limbs loose. Six? Smiling at my joke, I let my head fall against his shoulder. “Do you have a wedge of cheddar?”
“That was cheesy.”
I groaned, opening my eyes and looking up. “Your joke was worse than mine.”
His cheeks were a little red—he’d been drinking strong beer before switching to scotch. “You don’t think I’m funny?”
“I think it’s a good thing you’re cute,” I volleyed back, and his grip on my waist tightened, his fingers stretching toward my stomach and his thumb rubbing small circles on my lower back.
“So, you think I’m cute?”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but the staff motioned us forward to take our places in the cubicle, guiding us to the last two spots. I shot Jake a wide-eyed stare as we settled in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched out in front of us, the lights from thousands of other people’s nights twinkling.
“You ready?” he asked as the staff prepared us for the apparatus to shift.
“Ready or not,” I responded as the structure tilted forward, the hydraulic mechanism loud in my ears. The view shifted, and we were no longer looking out across the city; we were looking down on it. I felt like I was flying above the streets, above the people, above everything that normally kept me quiet. My head spun as the angle increased, and I gripped the handrail. Below us, cars flew by in streams of white and red, and the shadowed rooftops of nearby buildings came into view.
“Oh, shit. We’re really up here,” Jake said, his gaze sweeping around us. “This is . . . wow.” He stretched his arm and settled his palm on my handrail, his thumb grazing the back of my hand, and the sensation thrummed with more force than the ride’s mechanics.
Feeling suspended, a thousand feet in the air, I couldn’t hold in a squeal or a nervous laugh as we tipped forward again.
Jake’s gaze was intent from his position two feet away, but he wasn’t taking in the view; he was looking at me. Holy hell.
When we tilted back to normal, two or three minutes later, he reached for my hand as we stepped back away from the glass. My head spun from the alcohol and the shift in perspective.
“We should commemorate,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. I tucked my face in by his chest as he pulled me to him and snapped a selfie. “Another thing off your list, right?” He lingered next to my ear after that, the heat from his mouth and his warm breath tickling me, sending a zing through my body.
I can do this. He’s nice; he’s attractive and into me. I can hook up with him.
“Two things,” I responded, letting my head loll just a little closer to his ear, but stumbling as I lost my balance. “Do something new and flirt.”
“With danger?”
Something about knowing he was looking at me, taking in my skin and curves, lit me up inside. I tried to pull myself back into the moment, motioning to his phone. “No, silly. With you.” I punched him on the arm, letting my hand linger on his biceps to take in its size and to steady myself. “This is me flirting. You might not have known because I’m not good at it.”
His hands dropped to my waist. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. And, what a coincidence,” he said, taking a small step closer. “This is me flirting, too.”
Feeling bold, I grazed my fingers up his neck.
He gave a quick inhale when I reached his hairline. It was exciting to know my touch affected him.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he responded quickly with an eager nod. “Okay.”
I walked with heavy, intentional steps as we weaved through the crowd toward the high-speed elevator that would take us to street level. Drunk. I am drunk. I was being irresponsible and kind of reckless and I felt uncharacteristically comfortable. I loved it.
“Will you send me that photo?”
; “Of course,” he said, navigating through the app with his thumb. “Is that a sneaky way to get my phone number?” Jake handed me the phone with the contact screen open for me to enter my number.
“Seems you’re getting mine, too.”
I was breaking my own rules, but what could a phone number hurt?
“You,” he laughed, the sound light and playful near my ear, “are dangerous.”
“Me?” I feigned incredulity, pressing closer to him when the car filled with a few more people as the attraction neared closing time. “No one in my life has ever called me dangerous.”
“You got me in a glass box a thousand feet in the air.” His smile broadened, and he flattened both hands against his chest for effect. “I don’t do heights.” His consonants were a little mushy from the alcohol as we spilled from the elevator into the lobby and walked toward the street.
“Why agree to come up here?”
“The plan was to stay a few feet away from the glass.”
“I feel bad. I didn’t know.”
He took my hand as we pushed through the doors. “It was only mildly terrifying.”
“You should have said something.” The cool breeze washed over me as we stepped out onto the street. “We could have done something else.”
“And tell the sexy-as-sin woman I’m trying to impress I’m scared of heights? No way.”
“You’re trying to impress me?”
He surprised me by turning to wrap both his arms around my waist, bringing us together. “Is it working?”
“Yes.” I marveled again that him touching me, pulling me, felt good. The familiar tension wasn’t there. It might have been the alcohol, but something told me that wasn’t everything. Somewhere between wanting the list to be the key and this guy’s smile, I was relaxed.
He tipped his chin down, and his voice softened. “Is there anything on that list about being kissed on a street corner?”
Maybe Felicia was right about this being easy.
“There is now.”
His hand slid from my waist slowly up my back, the other cupping my neck. Our lips came together tentatively, slowly. He tasted like scotch and sugar as his tongue brushed across my lips before gliding over my tongue. My pulse quickened as his hold tightened. I was breathless and thoughtless; the only thing in the world I craved was more of him.
When we broke apart, the sounds of the city swirled around us—cars honking, music playing from some street performer, and a distant siren wailing. I pulled in a ragged breath.
“Check,” he said in a low voice that overtook the din as we stood, wrapped in each other’s arms.
My heart thumped, and a coiling need urged me forward. An unexpected fountain of confidence bubbled up. “Do you want to go back to your hotel?”
Jake’s gaze was intent, flashing to my mouth. “More than you can imagine.”
A bolt of desire surged through my body when he looked at my lips that way, eyelids hooded. A breeze picked up again, and a shiver ran up my spine, but not from the chill. This was the boldest thing I’d done in years, and I was exposed. “Let’s go.”
He nodded, blew out a slow breath, and laced his fingers with mine.
* * *
In the back of the Uber, he traced circles over my hand and stroked my knee, inching up my thigh. The driver was two feet away, but when Jake leaned down to brush his lips to mine, I kissed him back, sweeping my tongue across his bottom lip. I hadn’t been touched in that slow, erotic way in so long. I wanted more.
Despite the hour, the hotel lobby was busy, and several other people climbed onto the elevator with us. They pressed me up against Jake, and he wrapped an arm behind me, his palm resting on my hip. “Are you sure?”
I leaned back on his hard chest. “Yes.”
His body tensed against mine. The sparks of electricity that had been coursing through me since he’d first grazed my skin now popped and flashed. Three people stepped off the elevator on floor sixteen, and we no longer needed to be so close, but we didn’t move until the ding of the elevator signaled his floor.
I’m really going to do this.
We stepped into the hall, and I held on to his arm as panic settled low in my body. I was following him to his room the night I’d met him, after drinking. Did he expect me to take charge or . . . what did he expect? I wanted him to move the action forward, so I didn’t have to. Feminist card: Revoked.
“I’m so glad I went into that bar tonight,” he said, his voice hoarse. He glanced down, a slow, admiring sweep of my body, and the heat of his gaze left me tingling.
“Me, too.”
He inserted the card twice to unlock the door, fumbling with the plastic. I smiled at his nervous movements, hoping it belied my own anxiety.
Does he have protection?
Will he care that my bra and panties don’t match?
Do you cuddle after a one-night stand?
Thank God I shaved my legs this morning.
Wait, did I?
The green light finally flashed, and he opened the door, something fluttering in my chest as we stepped inside and he flicked on the light.
What now?
Looking at my feet and tugging at my dress as we stood awkwardly inside his room, I wobbled, head light with alcohol. My breath quickened as Jake reached for me. His hand drifted over my shoulder, and his fingers wove into the strands of hair at the base of my neck.
“Hi,” I murmured, looking up at his face and inhaling his clean scent. My mind, normally racing with worst-case scenarios, was focused solely on the touch of his lips.
Our kisses grew hungrier, more demanding, and his fingers tangled in my hair, with just enough force to make me want to kiss him harder. I met his intensity, heat radiating between us, and I clung to him.
His fingers slipped from the back of my head down the side of my neck, and I shivered with the wave of pleasure that brief, gentle movement aroused in me. He planted three lingering kisses at my throat. The pace was so slow, I worried he was regretting the decisions and maybe thinking of a way out.
My heart thumped as the words fell from my mouth. “Do you still want . . . ?”
His wordless reaction to my question was immediate. He slanted his lips against mine, and the wet tip of his tongue swept over me with a slow, controlled pace, seeking entry. And his erection—Goddamn, his erection—imposing and wedged against my hip, twitched.
I was breathless by the time we pulled apart, his mouth pressing to the delicate skin by my ear, and I changed my mind about the slow kisses. Every time he shifted to a new spot, my body lit up.
“Yes, I still definitely want to. I’m just a little drunk,” he said into my neck. The vibrations of his voice rumbled against my skin.
“I’m a lottle drunk,” I said on an exhale, then giggled, stumbling as we crossed the room entwined. “Wait, lottle’s not a word.”
Get drunk in public. Definitely checked that one off.
He flashed a grin. “I like your made-up word. I like it a lottle.” His lips returned to mine hungrily as his hands slid up my body, his thumbs grazing the sides of my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. His palms were wide, and when his long fingers rolled over my hard nipples in teasing, measured strokes, I moaned in his mouth, reeling at the pressure on my sensitive skin.
“Your body is amazing,” he rasped between kisses, and I dragged my mouth to his neck, the bristle of his stubble against my tongue oddly appealing. He groaned and pulled me to him, the rigid bulge pressing into my stomach.
Yes.
My insides flipped with the excitement of his touch, and my head spun in anticipation.
Yes.
A flush ran across my chest.
No, wait, this is something else.
This was not my stomach flipping; this was more of a churning sensation.
No, no, no.
I pushed backward from Jake as a familiar rising feeling left me lurching for the bathroom door behind me. Falling to my knees, I hunched over the toilet bowl and retched. My body reminded me of each gin and tonic.
Touché, Universe.
After a few moments, Jake swept my hair back and began rubbing circles on my back. “Are you okay?”
I buried my face in the crook of my elbow over the toilet, my stomach slowing its revolt. I was mortified. “I’m throwing up in your bathroom.”
He chuckled behind me. “Yeah, I kind of pieced that together.”
“I wanted a one-night stand, and I did it wrong,” I groaned, keeping my forehead pressed to my arms to avoid him seeing my face and to stop the pristine white room from spinning.
He laughed, quietly, still rubbing slow circles over my back. “Do you want a glass of water?”
I shook my head without looking up, shame prodding at every part of my body. “Can you give me a minute?”
He stepped back and closed the door, leaving me alone.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I flushed the toilet and wiped my mouth before standing on unsteady legs. The reflection in the mirror made me cringe—my cheeks were red and splotchy, and my watering eyes had smeared my mascara.
Pathetic.
I tore open the mouthwash provided by the hotel and swished while doing my best to fix the black streaks around my eyes. My hair was disheveled from his hands running through it in passion and then in pity. My toes curled in shame as I washed my hands.
When I stumbled from the bathroom, Jake was seated at the end of the hotel bed, forearms resting on his thighs, concern etched in his features, and my face heated again.
“I’m gonna go,” I muttered, frantically searching the floor for the purse I’d dropped when we came in the door.
The bed creaked, and he stood, handing me my bag. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? To lie down?”
“No. I’m fine. Going home to die of embarrassment.”
How to Fail at Flirting Page 4