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“I did.” She steps toward me and reaches for my hand. I link my fingers with hers. “But I was sort of hoping…”
Dropping her hand, I frame her face. “What were you hoping?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that we’d finally…” She sighs. “I was hoping you’d finally make a move.”
I want that more than anything. But… patience.
I smirk. “All good things come to those who wait.”
“Fine. But please don’t make me wait too long.”
I press a kiss to her lips. “I won’t.”
The ride to the clubhouse is pure torture. Her thighs are squeezing my hips, and she absently rubs her fingers in circles over my abs. My cock is rock fucking hard, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.
But we make it… barely.
When we step inside, the smell of weed permeates the air, and the bass from the music is pumping so loud, thinking becomes difficult.
Thinking became difficult the moment you saw Kennedy step out of Barlow’s earlier.
“Kennedy!” Sami exclaims from the bar before hopping off her stool and rushing toward us. “I’m so glad you made it!”
“I am too,” Kennedy replies, her eyes lighting up.
Whatever reservations she had about the party quickly disappear as she’s brought into the fold of my family. She’s passed from one ol’ lady to the next, then from one brother to the next as everyone greets her.
“Here,” Fallon says, thrusting a glass of red wine at her. “I figured you could use a drink.”
“Thanks.” Kennedy takes it but doesn’t drink.
After a few minutes of her still not touching the wine, I lean close to her ear. “Is something wrong with the drink?”
She lifts her eyes to mine and scrunches her nose. “I don’t really like wine,” she admits.
“Isn’t that what you all drank at your girl’s night?”
“I didn’t really drink any. But I didn’t want to make any of them feel bad, so they don’t know that.”
“Kennedy,” I chastise. “Always speak your mind and tell people what you want. There’s nothing wrong with that.” I pluck the wine glass from her hand and carry it to the bar, my other hand clasping hers to tug her with me. “Now, what do you want to drink?”
“I don’t know.”
“Beer?”
“Definitely not.”
“Okay,” I say with a chuckle. “How about you try a few things, and we’ll go from there?”
“That works.”
I start her off with a shot of Jack Daniels, but she can’t even get the whole thing down. We go through this process for five different liquors, each one causing her to pretend to gag. But the sixth try is what does it.
“Oh my God, this is good,” she says after downing the shot of Fireball. “Really, really good.”
“Fireball it is then.” I grin as I grab the whole bottle and lead her toward the couches where the rest of the ol’ ladies are. “Ladies, Kennedy just discovered Fireball,” I tell them as I hand the bottle to Kennedy. “Help her drink it.”
As I make my way back toward the bar, all I hear is good-natured razzing about how Kennedy is gonna get ‘so fucked up’ and ‘dance her panties off’. It warms my heart to know she’s having fun, and by the time the night is over, she’ll be able to check an experience or two off her list.
