Page 76 of The Cheerleader

He nods as I take a ticket and hand a beer to a girl who keeps her eyes glued to him, smiling and looking like she wants to say something. She doesn’t move aside until Bryan nods at her and gestures for her to move on.

“You’re a pro at this,” I say. “Have you worked at a bar before, as a bouncer?”

“No. But it’s not hard.”

“What are you doing here? I know you’re not drinking beer.”

He shrugs one shoulder and steps closer, almost coming around the end of the table as if he’s going to hang out.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re here.” I smile with real sincerity.

“When I heard you were relying on soccer players for security, I was worried about your safety.”

I laugh because I know him well enough to know he’s teasing. Or half teasing, because he has that deep protective streak that makes me shiver with the idea of him being worried enough to show up.

“We have a police detail too.”

“They’re at the doors.”

“So you don’t think I can handle a few drunk guys?” My voice turns flirtatious without a thought, my body’s automatic reaction to Bryan Granger. I hope he can’t see my blush in the dim lighting. I turn my attention solely to where it belongs: taking tickets and handing out beer again.

“I know you can’t. You don’t have an intimidating bone in your body.”

“And you do? You think of yourself as intimidating?” I ask. He is very intimidating, but I wonder if it’s just an act.

He comes the rest of the way around the end of the table to stand next to me and leans in. “Every bone in my body.”

I shudder and feel my heart racing and my belly fluttering like I’m a teenybopper meeting a movie star. I feel ridiculous, but that doesn’t diminish the giddy feeling of having Bryan very intentionally flirt with me.

I hang onto my poise.

“Is that what you’re doing now?” My voice is a whisper, and my heart rises, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“No.” He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple move, watch the strong corded muscles of his neck as he leans even closer so that I can feel his breath. I’m dimly aware of the fact that we’ve moved back from the table, that Josh has taken over collecting tickets, that the line for beer has gone down. Then I let my surroundings go altogether and stare up into Bryan’s dark, intense eyes, waiting for him to say more. Hoping he’ll say more.

“I’m flirting with you. And…” He moves his mouth so close to mine I can almost taste his minty breath. Every molecule in me pulsates with anticipation. Please kiss me.

“And?” I breathe the word, keeping my eyes on his, fascinated with his dilated pupil.

“And you’re flirting with me.”

A flush of heat throbs through my body, and I feel myself lean ever so slightly in his direction, all by itself. I want to feel his body against mine.

Instead, he moves his mouth a fraction and whispers his lips against mine, a delicate brush, the barest of contact. But the touch explodes in a rush of sensation, setting me on fire, and I stumble forward against him.

His hands grip my arms, holding me back, but not before I felt the impact of his body, the hardness of it, the heat of it, and his unmistakable arousal.

“You’re playing with fire, princess.”

“Maybe you’re the one playing with fire.” I’m reduced to spouting schoolyard nonsense, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth quirks up on one side.

“Sweetheart, I’m the arsonist.” His devil-may-care expression quickly morphs into the big bad—and very hungry—wolf who’s looking at his next meal.

A loud voice interrupts our conversation, dispelling all the tingly heat of flirtation instantly.

“Granger, you working here? Get me a beer.” Fletcher waves a ticket in our direction, flashing a nasty smile as his eyes dart between us. I step away from Bryan and reach for a cup as I take Fletcher’s ticket. I should be grateful for the interruption because I have no business kissing my best friend’s… what? Not her boyfriend. No, worse. He’s the love of her life. Or that’s the impression I get.

I should be thanking Fletcher for stopping us, but I’m not. I should feel horribly guilty, but I don’t. Right now, my hormones are so stirred up all I feel is … needy. I need more of him. I need a real kiss.