Blame It on the Tequila - Page 44

With a deep breath, I squeezed her hand, needing to feel her.

I watched her from the corner of my eye, taking in her smile she tried to hide by digging her teeth into the plump flesh. When the lights from the stage flashed over her, I saw the red tinging her cheeks.

Yeah, we may not talk about what grew between us, but that didn’t mean we both didn’t know it was there.

And it was just a matter of time before we finally did something about it.

NOVA

We didn’t hold hands for long, but it ingrained itself in my mind, etched itself into each neuron until I knew I’d never forget the feel of Parker Callahan reaching for my hand.

Marked right next to the feel of his hard length pressed against my stomach.

Holy shit-snacks.

My face heated all over again, joining the fluttery warmth growing in my belly. Each time I thought of it, my stomach would dip and turn like speeding over a hill too fast.

I couldn’t help but hope we got another chance to dance tonight, but as the minutes ticked by, the chances grew less likely. More people from school showed up after Oren posted to Facebook. Some of the girls flocked around the guys like they always did. I cringed when I saw Kelly talking to Parker at the bar, hating that I hated watching her flirt with him.

Parker wasn’t mine. He was my stepbrother. A stepbrother I let sneak into my bed most nights. A stepbrother that created a heat burning across my skin. A stepbrother that made me want things I’d never wanted before.

I knew about sex, of course. But beyond some groping and kissing, I hadn’t done anything else. No one had made me want to, but Parker had me imagining stripping myself bare to him and begging him to do everything. Anything to make me feel closer to him—anything to help me crawl inside him and live forever like I wanted to.

“Guys,” Ash called from a table at the edge of the dance floor. “Get the fuck over here.”

I walked over to meet the guys and found ten shot glasses decorating the table with a salt shaker and a bowl of lime wedges.

“Hell yes. This is what I’m talking about,” Oren cheered.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Parker muttered. “I thought I said beers only.”

“Beer is for pussies,” Oren jeered.

“I’m trying to keep her from getting so drunk she forgets her birthday.”

“Meh, Supernova has a liver of a champion. One shot won’t take her down.” He nudged me, smirking and winking, trying to win me over to his side with his dimples.

“I’ll be fine, Dad. Promise,” I joked.

“Not Dad. Stepbrother,” Oren reminded, missing the way Parker and I stopped smiling at that reminder we never wanted or needed.

“Calm down, mother hen,” Ash added. “We’re fucking celebrating.”

“What?” I asked.

Brogan slung his shoulder around Ash, his smile so big, I thought it would stay that way forever. “This asshole just got a phone call from George Marcetti,” he explained, shaking Ash in excitement.

I had no idea who they were talking about, but the guys must have known because their jaws dropped, and it was like they sucked all the oxygen from our small space and replaced it with a knife’s edge of tension.

“He invited us to play at Bordeaux next month,” Ash explained.

“Holy fuck.”

“Fuck yes.”

“Holy shit. This is huge. So big.”

“As in the top indie alternative concert bar?” I asked in awe.

“Yes,” Parker answered, looking ready to float off the ground. “As in the bar that gave some of the biggest bands their break.”

“You guys,” I squealed, clapping my hands. “That’s awesome.”

Ash scooted the shots toward everyone—two each.

“It’s a two-shot kind of celebration.”

We each grabbed a glass and stood around the round table, lifting the shots to the middle. “To fucking crushing it,” Oren said.

“To fucking making it,” Parker added.

“To it all being worth it,” Ash said.

“To proving we fucking can,” Brogan included.

Their eyes turned to me, and I looked back at the four guys who I somehow got lucky to be a part of. “To you guys.”

“To all of us,” Parker added, his smile soft.

We tossed them back and quickly did the second.

“I declare that to help us celebrate, Nova must sing,” Oren announced.

“Uhhh, no thanks.”

“Oh, come on, Supernova,” Ash cajoled.

“I mean, you can’t be worse than Oren,” Brogan joked.

Oren nodded. “Truth, brother. Come on. Nova. Nova. Nova.”

He started a chant that quickly picked up until there were a few people from tables close by that joined in. I cringed, deciding I’d rather sing than have the entire bar chant my name.

“Fine. Stop. I’ll sing. But Parker has to go on stage with me.”

“Done,” he agreed without hesitating.

I followed him to the stage and stayed back while he put in his request with the DJ.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I eyed the stage like it would grow teeth and eat me alive. My stomach turned, and my heart thundered like a stampede of wild horses. I’d never sung in front of a crowd. Hell, the only people I’d ever sang in front of was the guys.

Tags: Fiona Cole Romance
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