Bedwrecker(3)By: Kim Karr
As soon as Cam gives me the amber liquid I asked for, I laugh and point to the small glass in Makayla’s hand. “You’re supposed to shoot it. Watch.”
I tip my head back and down all 1.5 ounces. The initial burn jolts me, but after that the taste spreads deliciously across my tongue. When my gaze returns to eye level, it lands on the most absolutely gorgeous-looking man I have ever seen, and he is headed our way.
In a simple white shirt and plain black pants, you wouldn’t think someone could be so sexy. Yet he so is. I watch his slow strides, and I swear every part of me goes on alert, and I mean every part.
As clichéd as it sounds, this man is tall, dark, and handsome as hell. Messy yet perfect dark hair, a lean build that makes him look like he could bend a woman over with ease, a wide mouth with full lips that I bet can drive a woman to her knees with one kiss, and the bluest, most glimmering eyes that must make the best magic.
Holy crap! I think he sees me staring, because his lips curve into a slow, sexy smile.
He looks naughty.
And so my type.
He’s going to say hi, and ask me to dance, and we’re going to kiss Happy New Year, and then move the party to my room. Pronto. I just know it.
Here it comes. Something like, “Hey, how are you?” Or, “Hi, where have you been all my life?” Or if I’m lucky I’ll get a “Hey, beautiful, you belong with me.”
Fingers crossed I’m lucky.
That mouth of his opens.
Here it comes. A line meant to whisk me right off my feet.
I watch everything about his lips as they begin to move.
“Cam,” he says. “How the fuck have you been?”
That is not the line I wanted to hear.
Immediately, my head snaps to Cam.
“Keen, you made it, asshole!” Cam shouts excitedly.
The Wall Street wolf?
Keen Masters, as in Brooklyn James’s half brother?
This man is the man I want to take to bed tonight. He cannot be my fake date’s brother. Is that almost incestuous? I hope not. No. No, it isn’t. No, it can’t be. Never mind. Forget I said that.
The two men collapse into a flurry of backslapping and insults. Keen grabs Cam around the neck and knuckles his hair until Cam stands straight and shrugs him off.
Makayla and I give each other a look. “I guess they missed each other,” she whispers with a little hiccup.
My teeth start to worry my bottom lip. I wonder if he’s sleeping in their bed tonight. I keep that little thought to myself. I doubt Makayla is into that anyway. Then again, she did have that special book-club time with Cam last summer about the threesome. I give her the once-over, and can’t tell. No. I know better. Not my sweet Makayla. There, with that out of the way, I feel so much better now.
When the adolescent boys finish their greeting, Keen swoops in and kisses Makayla on the cheek. He whispers something in her ear that I can’t hear, and I’m not really that happy about it.
I’m about to clear my throat when Keen steps back from Makayla to fix me with an intense gaze. Now I know I fall easily, but the fire blazing in his eyes tells me so does he.
I’m so in.
Cam puts a hand on Keen’s shoulder and then a hand on mine. “Maggie, this is Keen Masters. He’s my best friend. Keen, this is Maggie May, Makayla’s best friend and my former lifeguard cohort.”
Keen’s slow grin is a heat-seeking missile that goes straight between my thighs. “Maggie May. Like as in the song?”
Sigh. The line is perfection.
Unable to help myself, I smile at the touch of flirtatiousness in his voice that screams naughty. “That depends.”
Unabashed, he blatantly scans my body. It’s quick. Socially acceptable. Not blatant. Yet, I still notice. “On what?” he asks low and slow.
Cam and Makayla have started sucking face again, and he and I for all intents and purposes are alone, for now. Taking advantage of this, I stand tall, tits out, and lean a little closer. “On if you know who sings the song?”
The look in his eyes tells me he’s never wrong. “And if I do, what do I win?”
Charmed by his slickness, I smile again, holding back a laugh. “The pleasure of my company.”
First he takes a slow moment to allow his gaze to lazily lower, taking me in, and I mean taking me in, and then within seconds his hot breath gusts along my skin when he breathes, “Rod Stewart.”