Cam scooted his chair closer to hers and a playful smile slid across his face that lit up his sparkling blue eyes. Okay, maybe she spoke too soon about the next thirty days being boring.
“Don’t look so pained. Have a shot,” he said, sliding the empty shot glass toward her. “Tonight doesn’t have to suck. We might as well enjoy each other’s company.”
“Not interested,” she responded, folding her arms across her chest and leaning away from him. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m working. I have a job to do.”
Cam slanted his body toward hers, his eyes giving her a smoldering once over and for one brief, crazy moment, she wished she had worn something a little more revealing. She mentally bitch slapped herself. She didn’t want anything from Cam because Cam didn’t have anything to offer except, perhaps, a night of meaningless sex and that wasn’t her thing. She had a mother who fed her alcohol addiction by trading meaningless sex and she wouldn’t repeat her mistakes. It was a road to nowhere, and she already had a front seat on that trip. She didn’t need to experience it again.
“Friends don’t let friends drink alone,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her neck, making her knees tremble.
“We’re friends now?” she questioned. As much as she didn’t want to be swayed by his proximity, her body moved closer to him of its own volition. Like most rock stars, he had a gravitational pull a mile wide.
“It’d make this month easier for both of us,” he answered, brushing his knuckles along her bare leg just below her short black skirt.
The heat of his fleeting touch, while light and almost nonexistent, seared her skin and she just barely succeeded in holding back the shiver that begged to be released.
“Friends would be nice,” she said, a little confused by her reaction to him.
Cam looked amused. “Well?” he questioned, pointing to the bottle in the center of the table.
Taylor looked at the glass, the bottle of Patrón and then Cam. “I don’t do tequila without salt and lime. Not even Patrón.”
Smiling wickedly, Cam winked. “Ahh…so you still need training wheels.”
She nodded, unable to speak when Cam focused all of his sinfully dangerous attention on her. She could drown in him if she wasn’t careful.
“Salt and limes coming up.” He tore his gaze away from hers and waved to the waitress behind her. “One more shot glass with salt and limes.”
Within minutes, the waitress placed everything she needed to indulge in several shots of Patrón in front of her. She hesitated, taking in the artful display of debauchery in front of her. She hadn’t been remotely close to drunk and reckless in over two years, which was depressing in and of itself at the age of twenty-three.
One of the many things Miles had forbidden was drinking alcohol. At the time, she never protested because her mother was an alcoholic and that was reason enough not to drink. But now, as she watched the rest of the people her age dancing, laughing and enjoying life, she resented her ex-boyfriend even more than when she caught him naked with Natalie, her neighbor and friend of two years. He had truly robbed her of a year and a half of her life.
Cam lifted the bottle, pouring the clear liquid into her glass until it nearly spilled over the rim. He did the same thing with his glass.
She could feel Cam’s hot gaze on her as she licked the skin of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. Cam lifted the saltshaker, sprinkling it on her damp hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she licked the salt from her hand and tilted her head back as she poured the clear liquid into her mouth. When she slammed the glass down, Cam handed her a lime that she promptly sucked into her mouth.
“Your turn,” she said pushing the saltshaker and plate of limes in front of Cam.
Cam twisted his shot glass in circles on the table. “I think you need to have two shots for every one of mine. I’m way ahead of you.”
“No, I don’t drink much. You have a higher tolerance.” She lifted his hand. “Lick,” she said.
“I don’t need training wheels,” he said lifting the glass to his lips and then pulling it away. “Unless you plan to let me lick the salt off of you, in which case, I’m all for training wheels.” He lifted one eyebrow, the clear shot glass resting against his plump lower lip. Could she be jealous of that glass? Because right now, she wanted to be touching those lips.
She licked her lips, and his eyes tracked every movement like he wanted to devour her, and at that moment, she’d be incapable of resisting if he tried.
When she didn’t respond, he reached for her hand. “I could use the same spot you used.” His thumb pressed the still damp skin between her index finger and thumb, rubbing it gently. “Or maybe your neck.”