Scorched (Frigid 2) - Page 8

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I wanted to let her go, to see how far she’d take this. A very huge part of me wanted that so damn badly, and she was so close, practically on her knees as she stared up at me, her fingers nearing my fly.

Good God, I grabbed her wrists before she went any further, and I ended up turning into one of those guys I hated. Hauling her up, I tried not to smile when she pouted at me. “I’m taking you home,” I told her.

One coppery eyebrow lifted. “Wow, that…that escalated quickly.”

I ignored how a certain part of me got all kinds of interested. “Knock it off.”

“How about bang it off?” she said, and then tipped her head back and laughed like that made an ounce of sense. “I don’t know if I want to go home with you.”

“That’s okay.” I slipped an arm around her shoulder before she turned away from me. “Because I’m taking you back to your place, not mine.”

Her lips turned down as if she was confused by what I was saying, and I used that distraction to my advantage, guiding her toward Kyler and Sydney. Both stared at us with a look of smug knowing. I glared at them and opened my mouth, but Andrea beat me to it.

“He’s taking me hooome,” she said, laughing as she started to dance away with me. “All the waaay hooome,” she sung. “Oh yeah, we’re gonna go hooome.”

What the holy hell? My lips twitched as I caught her hand. Sydney’s eyes widened with alarm. “We can take her back.”

“You guys are having fun,” I told them. “There’s no reason for you to leave.”

Sydney raised a brow. “Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, because that’s just weird.” Andrea stopped dancing, but she swung our arms between us like she was two, and I tried not to find the act adorable. “I like you guys, but four is like more than a company. It’s like some freaky swinger shit.”

Sydney choked on her drink.

“Not that I’m saying being a swinger means anyone is a freak,” Andrea chirped on blithely. “But I’m not in a relationship so it wouldn’t be swinging. It would be an orgy, and I don’t really want to see either of you naked.”

All I could do was stare.

Kyler covered his mouth with his fingers and murmured, “Feeling is mutual.”

Andrea nodded understandingly and rather somberly, and then looked up at me, still swinging our arms. “Are we leaving now? Because I would like another drink.”

“We’re leaving now,” I said.

She sighed. “You’re no fun, you party-pooper-pants-pooper.”

“I really have no idea what to say to that,” I admitted.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

Popping up from her seat, Sydney slid Andrea’s purse over her shoulder and then gave her a quick hug. Looking up at me, she gave me her best serious face. “Anyone else, I would not let her leave, but I trust you. Don’t make me regret that trust.”

A bit of guilt burned, because it wasn’t like I was having completely clean thoughts about Andrea, especially if she did another little dance. “I know. She’ll make it home safely.”

“She better,” Sydney warned, fucking fierce for a pint-size thing.

“Y’all know, I’m like standing right here.” Andrea flipped her curls with her free hand. “Maybe I don’t want to be safe. Maybe I want to live dangerously.”

Sydney sighed. “No you don’t.”

“Maybe I want to get on my Grindr account,” she announced.

I frowned. “What?”

“You do not have a Grindr account,” Sydney said.

Andrea narrowed her eyes, looking a bit cross-eyed. “Maybe I do.”

“This is epic,” Kyler said.

“Grindr is mostly for gay guys the last time I checked,” Sydney explained, shaking her head. “And I just don’t think you really qualify for that.”

Andrea blinked. “I meant Tinder.”

“You so do not have a Tinder account,” I said.

She smiled at me, all innocence, and I suddenly wanted to burn her phone and the world down with gasoline and piss. It was time to get her home, and that process took a God-awful amount of time. She was like a drunk hummingbird, buzzing from one thing to the next, and by the time I got her inside her apartment, I was exhausted.

Apparently, Andrea had an endless supply of energy, because she dropped her purse on the floor, kicked off her heels, and immediately made a mad dash for her kitchen. I knew she was heading for something to drink, and that wouldn’t be water. Picking up her purse, I placed it on a chair, dropped her house keys in the bag, and then intercepted her.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I steered her toward the narrow hall. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

She rocked back on her bare feet, her smile crinkling the skin around her eyes. “Geez, Tanner-man, you move fast.”

Again, inappropriate thoughts to the max. “Andy, come on. You know I’m not here for that.”

“I don’t know that,” she said, dancing away from me. She started to walk backward down the hall, her hands fluttering to the hem of her shirt. I was more concerned with her tripping and breaking her neck. “I don’t know why you’re here at all.”

My gaze dropped to where the swell of her breasts pushed against the material of her shirt as I followed her. With great effort, I managed to pull my gaze up. “I brought you home.”


Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Frigid Romance
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