Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(11)

But a guy waiting in the back of the line for the bar pointed at us. “Yo, Colton. That’s just pop, right?”

I recognized the man as being a groomsman. There’d been two—the wedding pamphlet had named them Noel Gamble and Oren Tenning. Since this guy looked Brandt-ish, I figured he was Noel, which would make him Colton’s big brother.

Lifting his cup as if in cheers, Colton answered, “Of course.”

I glanced at him, frowning slightly and trying to remember what he’d ordered for himself. Had it only been cola? I wasn’t sure.

“You were drinking champagne earlier,” I suddenly remembered.

He shrugged as he took a sip from his cup. “They let me since I had to make the toast.”

“Oh.” I nodded in understanding. That made sense. As we approached my table, I drank from my own Crown and Coke. “You know, that toast you gave actually didn’t suck.”

With a gasp, he clutched his chest. “Holy shit, is that a compliment? From the Julianna Radcliffe?”

“What?” I sniffed, a little hurt. “I can give a compliment.”

“Yeah. Just not to me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but damn...was he right? I tried but couldn’t think of a single time I’d complimented him or even said a polite thing in his direction. Damn, how utterly bitchy of me. Feeling crappy about that, I blurted, “Well...the way you tricked me onto the dance floor was evilly genius. Well done there.”

He snickered. “Damn, girl. Slow down. Too much more praise from you and you’ll convince me you’re in love with me or something. I mean, not that I’d blame you, but—”

“Oh, shut up...jerk.” I shoved at his arm only to chase it with a laugh.

When I rolled my eyes, he chuckled too and fell into the chair he’d been sitting in earlier across from me. No one else who’d been assigned to sit at my table was there. In fact, they’d never shown up at all. The only items that had been used at their seats were their champagne glasses, which I’d drank from, one after another, when the server had come around to fill them for the toast: the witty, clever, sweet, endearing toast Colton had given.

When I sat in the seat next to him and not the one I’d been sitting in earlier all the way across the table, he glanced at me pointedly with lifted eyebrows.

I ignored his surprise and watched the dancers as a slow tune started. It wasn’t as if I actually wanted Colton’s company, I tried to convince myself. But he wasn’t acting as if he was going to go away anytime soon, and…well, having someone to talk to—even him—made things suck a little less.

Okay, fine...he was amazing to talk to—entertaining, perceptive, and f*ck...that little leap in my pulse every time he looked at me with those hooded, brown bedroom eyes was becoming addictive.

I’m not sure why I didn’t consider leaving. I’d been ready to walk out the door not too long ago. My tush had been out of my seat, my gaze had been locked on the exit, and my purse would’ve been in hand...if he hadn’t stolen it. But here I was now, purse returned, and I was voluntarily sitting by Colton Gamble of all people.

Just how many glasses of champagne had I stolen from my absent table companions?

“So what else do you like about me?” he prompted before taking a long draw from his cup and eyeing me speculatively over the rim.

I watched his throat work as he swallowed, wondering how that strong column of skin would taste if I licked it. Then I jerked my gaze away. “Nothing. You know how to manipulate people into getting what you want, and you give non-sucky speeches. That’s...that’s about it.”

No way would I admit how my thighs had trembled, or my breathing caught, or my mind raced with the most inappropriate thoughts every time he’d ever come into the bar.

“Nah, that can’t be all.” He shook his head before looking me straight in the eye. “What about my big brown eyes? A girl once told me I had penetrating eyes, like I could see straight inside her.”

I ground my teeth, mad at myself for just admiring his eyes. Then I grew mad at that girl for being stupid enough to inflate his ego even more by telling him how awesome they were. And then...then my anger rose toward him for talking to another girl at all, or getting close enough to her that she could see his eyes and compliment them. But at the end of it all, I was only mad at myself for the stupid knee-jerk sensation of jealousy I felt.

I mean, why the hell would I be jealous of another girl for merely talking to him? That was just stupid.

“No,” I said, glancing away from those all-seeing eyes. “I don’t think you have penetrating eyes.”

“Good.” He swiped the back of his hand over his brow in relief. “Because honestly, I’d rather penetrate you with far different parts of my body.” When his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip and he lifted his eyebrows in proposition, I realized that was one of the body parts he was talking about. Suddenly, I could only imagine all the places he’d like to penetrate me with his tongue.

My stomach clenched as if I could already feel the wet glide from his mouth working between my legs.

“Seventeen-year-old boys shouldn’t talk that way,” I said and knew it was a mistake as soon as the words passed my lips. I’d only called him seventeen to remind him how much younger than me he was. But we’d already had this discussion, and he’d already made it clear he didn’t care.