Fear of Falling(55)

I touched my lips with his once more. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”

He squeezed me tighter to him, splaying his large hand just above my backside. I could feel the front of his jeans growing stiffer by the second. “Only when I’m mad?”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it. This guy knew he was drop-dead delicious, and something about him made me feel like a damn schoolgirl.

Blaine stood up straight and looked over my shoulder. It was his turn to smile smugly, and I let him have his moment. With my body still fused with his, he grabbed the $100 off the bar and held it up. “Drinks on this asshole!” he said, pointing at Kenneth, who was bubbling over with fury. But he wasn’t an idiot. He knew he had his daddy’s money and power to hide behind but he wasn’t willing to suffer an epic ass whooping just to prove that theory.

The patrons around the bar erupted into cheers, and Blaine and I reluctantly broke apart to serve bottles of beer. Many gave us knowing smiles and winks while Blaine’s fan-girls shot me obvious scowls. I had gotten used to them. They were like gnats—insignificant, annoying as hell, and impossible to get rid of. No matter how many times Blaine swatted them away, they just kept coming back.

Once we had distributed the beers, and Kenneth had retreated with his tail between his legs, Blaine turned to me, his brown eyes smoldering. The fire that had ignited between us since the moment our lips touched was still kindling, and the way he was looking at me only fanned the flames between my thighs.

He stepped forward, bringing his lips down to my ear. I shivered as they brushed the shell. “Care to tell me how you know Kenneth?”

“Care to tell me how you know him?”

He lifted his head, a small frown resting between his brows. I could see the internal battle playing out in his expressive eyes. With a resigned sigh, he nodded. “Yes. Tonight. I’m taking you home with me.”

“Excuse me?” The butterflies in my stomach broke out into a choreographed happy dance, flash mob style.

“Don’t get excited. I’m not giving it up no matter how badly you want it,” he teased. “I just want to talk. And I want to show you something. Ok?”

I was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Ok. I want to talk to you too.”

This was it. This was my chance to tell him how I felt. But what would I tell him? How did this type of thing go? I had only been on the receiving end of those awkward conversations, and my reactions were less than gracious. Oh shit, would Blaine laugh in my face? Could I blow this thing between us with my tendency to obsess over every freakin’ thing?

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured in my ear, his warm breath blanketing my bitter thoughts. “Breathe, Kami. It’s ok.”

I listened to his words, letting them pull me back to the surface. Bringing me back to him. That’s when I felt the fresh droplets of sweat on my forehead. My skin was clammy and hot, and my hands were trembling. I let out the breath I had been unknowingly holding, my lungs whining at the loss of oxygen. I had nearly sent myself into panic attack. Again. Shit.

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, you don’t have to do this if you–”

“No, I want to,” I insisted, cutting him off. “I mean, I want to go to your place, Blaine. If you still want to talk.”

He smiled, and it was pure and real. Not laced with hidden malice. Not infused with lust or desire. It was an honest-to-goodness happy smile. And his smile made me smile.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it when you say my name?” he asked, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer.

“Do you…Blaine?” I replied sweetly. I didn’t have the guts to tell him how much I loved it too. And how I craved to scream it.

He let out what sounded like a hiss between his teeth. “Keep talking like that, and I might shut this place down early.”

“Sure, bud. Mick will have your head for that,” I chuckled. Reflexively, I scanned the perimeter for him, not wanting to get caught flirting again.

“Yeah, right,” Blaine snorted.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but CJ came barreling up to the bar, completely trashed. He tried to flop onto a stool, missed it, and tried three more times before getting himself settled.

“Holy fuuuuck, dude! I am so fuckin’ wasted!” he slurred, slumping over on the bar.

I grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim with water, setting it in front of him. CJ could barely lift his head to drink it.

“Dude, drink. You know your dad is gonna flip once he sees how sloppy drunk you are.”

CJ made a face, but picked up the glass and chugged. He set it down empty and hiccupped. “B, get me some food so I can soak this shit up. Please?”