Page 34

Shit on a shitsicle. Well, if it isn’t college coffee guy. I’m not disappointed. I turn my head, and our faces are inches apart. “That’s how I know you!”
He smirks and watches me carefully, his eyes darting to my lips. College coffee guy is actually standing in front of me looking just as adorable as he was when he so kindly bought my drink. “At least you remembered me. Must have made a lasting impression.”
“That you did.” I try to act casual and not quirky. “Are you recognized a lot?”
His eyes hold mine, and flashes of neon light up the side of his face. “More than I’d like.”
“Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”
He laughs, his expression guarded. “Not an interesting one.”
I blow out a breath I’ve been holding. I’ve never met someone that made me so curious yet so completely uncomfortable at the same time. And not necessarily in a bad way. “Thank you, by the way, for the coffee.”
“My pleasure.” He does that thing where he licks his lip.
“No, no.” I wave my hand in his face, trying not to lean in and press my lips to his. My blinks come slower and slower. “Don’t do that.”
His brow arches. “Do what?”
“Lick your lips. It’s suggestive.” I can’t help it, but I find myself staring at his lips. They’re perfect and pouty, and I want them on every square inch of my body, making me forget everything that’s wrong with my life at the moment. I bet those lips could do so much for me. “That whole sexy-lip thing.”
“You think I’m sexy.”
I wave my hand around. “No, I said you were doingsomethingsexy.”
“Well…” He leans his weight into the bar and smiles at the bartender as he delivers my drinks. “They’re my lips, so that makes me sexy.”
By the look on his face, he’s totally hoping I’ll thank him in other ways. I hand the bartender the cash that Nahla gave me. A wave of sadness hits me because I can’t even buy myself a drink at this point, and I have no idea if, in the next month, I’ll have a place to live. “Uh, yeah, so are you even old enough to be in here?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“No fucking way.” Nervously, I play with the plastic straw in my drink and face him full-on. I don’t have to look down to know my boobs are providing an ample amount of cleavage. All that surrounds me is his penetrating gaze, the overly loud music, and the clank of bar glasses. Even with all that noise, I can still hear my heartbeats vibrating my ears at his proximity. “Let me see your ID. I don’t believe you.”
He grins, laughter on his lips, smooth and deep, and the sound alone makes me want to curl up into his arms, press my ear to that space between his pecs and then ask him to talk so the vibration can tickle through me. “Are you carding me?” His face furrows as his gaze drifts over my face.
My cheeks are pink and warm. “Fuckin’ right I am.” I let go of the straw and hold out my hand. The way he holds his posture, his stance, that unwavering self-assurance of his appeal radiates from him. I hate to admit it, but this kid, he knowsexactlywhat he’s doing trying to knee-weaken me. Fucker. “Hand it over. I need proof.”
He sobers to a smartass grin. “Of what?” His body shifts closer, the muscles in his biceps peeking out as he reaches behind him for his wallet. “That I’m legal before you take me home? I’m getting mixed signals. First you say I’m sexy, and then you card me. What next?”
For some reason, I push my hand into his chest, and it feels like warm stone beneath my fingertips. I bet his entire body is hard and sculpted with lines. There’s no dad bod here. “You’re awfully confident there, buddy.”
“Proof that I’m legal.” He slaps his ID on the bar. “Now, let’s talk about how sexy I am.”
Cason Jarrett Reins
Born December 2, 1995.
Blue eyes, 6’2”, 205 pounds.
I gaze up into his beautiful eyes with pretty lashes. “How do I know this is real? Fake IDs are popular among you college boys.”
I’m given another wink before he takes a drink of his beer. I watch with fascination as he licks his lips again and the roll of his throat as he swallows. Fuck, he makes drinking beer hot too! “You’re gonna keep me on my toes. I like you.”
“Okay, CasonJarrettReins.” I raise the tequila shot from the bar and tap it against his beer glass that’s almost empty. “Cheers, bitch.”
Laughter works through him. “Did you just call me a bitch?”
“You bet your ass I did.” I take the shot, feel the burn in my throat, and squint before laying it back on the lip of the bar. “Now drink with me. My sister dragged me here to get laid.”