Page 4 of Kisses
I have no clue what to say. Fucking speechless is more like it. I try to stutter, “Umm…it’s…okay.”
Then he looks down at my now see-through white tank top. Damn shirt is glued to my DDs.
He smirks, “Nice design.”
I look down to see that the nude flower print on my bra is showing. I deadpan, “At least you're honest about seeing through my shirt.”
He laughs, “It’s hard not to notice.”
“Well, aren’t you Captain Obvious.”
“I like to say that I am observant,” he grins.
Good lawd, almighty, his grin fits his hotness. Keep it cool, Lyla.
Before I can come back with something witty, he comments, “Let me get you two more beers. I am truly sorry. It’s a little packed in here tonight.”
I answer, “You don’t have to do that.”
He smirks, “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay.”
He reaches out his hand and says, “I’m Sully.”
“Hi, Sully. I’m Lyla.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Hey! How about you take a compliment!”
“Thanks!”
He grabs my hand and leads me back to the bar. This throws me off. Hot stranger just acting all cool by grabbing my hand like I am his. He is very confident in himself.
The eye candy behind the bar greets the other piece of candy. Sully turns toward me and asks, “What would you like?”
I answer, “Two Irish Ales.”
He smirks, “Nice choice.”
I shrug while tilting my head to the side.
He smiles at me again, but this time, he does a look down and back up. He asks, “Do you do shots?”
“Does a crazy person belong in an institution?”
He laughs, “Alrighty, then.” Sully turns back to the bartender and puts in our order.
I turn and skim the crowd, spotting my group across the way laughing and having a good time. Then I view Sully’s group. They are polar opposite from my group. It is probably obvious that we are college students. Sully’s group is all business. Dress shirts that are unbuttoned at the wrist and pushed up exposing their muscular flexors. Some even have ties on.
A nudge on my shoulder gets my attention. I turn around to see Sully trying to hand me a shot. I smile and thank him.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks.
“Bottoms up,” I answer.