I watch, noting that every muscle in her body tenses. I can tell from the rigid way she sits, from the stiff lines of her posture. The woman beside her, her friend, wears a carefree smile, but I would be willing to bet her friend isn’t. The dude, a guy I recognize from the Ring Noah something, places both hands on her shoulders and puts his lips on her neck.
I take an involuntary step forward, and then stop myself.
Watching. Waiting.
Another guy calls him from one of the poker tables, and Noah glances in that direction. Without a second glance at the woman I can’t keep my eyes off of, he jogs over to the table and sits back down at his game.
And I’m moving.
Back to the couch.
Back to her.
Six
ACE
“Your boyfriend left you all alone?” I slide right back into place beside her. “Mistake.”
Trying successfully to hold that swagger out of my voice this time, I keep my eyes molded to her profile.
She slides her gaze toward me. This time, she meets my eyes, but then she lets it slip down, over my neck, my shoulders, my chest.
“Oh?” Her tone is mocking. “Guns N’ Roses?” She snorts.
She’s referring to tattoo inked at the base of my throat, which pokes out above the buttons of my shirt. A pistol wrapped in roses, after my all-time favorite band.
I reel back. “You snorted at Guns N’ Roses? You serious right now?”
Her full lips curve into a smile. “I did. Because November Rain? Most boring rock song ever.”
I shove backward on the couch, a hand clutching the spot where my heart should be. No pretenses about that. I know that thing went cold and dead years ago.
“Fucking blasphemy!” I point an accusing finger at her. “No one ever did it like the Guns.”
A smirk, too sexy for her own good, crosses her full lips again and for a second I just let my gaze settle there. “You sure about that?” She glances around the Ring. “Wanna bet?”
Her friend, who I’m noticing for the first time is still sitting next to her, offers a dry laugh. “You don’t wanna go toe-to-toe with her about rock music, dude.”
Her friend is a blonde, her hair the color of honey, and on any other night, I’d be all over it. Her legs are bare, her short red dress riding high on her thighs. But I can’t spare her a second look.
“Oh, yeah?” My tone lowers, going dark. Drinking in the girl beside me, I allow the challenge to show in my eyes. “Prove it.”
Leaning forward, her deep, dark gaze holds mine, giving me all the attitude she holds in that tight little body of hers. With an exaggerated motion, she moves her lips, forming the words slowly.
“Two words: Bon. Jovi.”
Dragging my gaze away from her lips, I shake my head in disbelief. First of all, I can’t believe she even knows who Bon Jovi is. Hell, she’d known who Guns N’ Roses was. But this was almost too much.
This woman really does like the good stuff when it comes to music.
“The band has its place among the greats, but Jon Bon Jovi is no comparison to Axl Rose. That’s just the truth.”
She leans back, mouth set in determination. “I disagree.”
At this point, it’s getting ridiculous. I need to know. The not knowing is digging a hole down deep inside me, and I’m falling in nice and slow.
I lean forward, chasing her with my movements. “What’s your name?”
Her friend’s soft chuckle doesn’t pry my eyes from the girl beside me. “This conversation is so over my head it’s ridiculous. I’m gonna grab another beer and check on Jaxon. He better be winning. You want another one, Ny?”
The raven-haired beauty glances at her friend and shakes her head. She’s been nursing the beer in her hand because she’s been tossing around an argument about rock music with me. A smug feeling warms my stomach.
“Oh,” her friend leans over the back of the couch and stage-whispers. “You came here with a guy. So, keep chatting it up with Mr.…” she glances at me and then looks back at Ny. “Guns N’ Roses. Should make Noah crazy with jealousy.” Grinning, she skips off toward the bar area.
She glances over her shoulder at Noah, and then back at me. She slides over on the couch, putting some distance between us.
When I raise a questioning brow, she shrugs and turns her body so that she’s facing the televisions once more. “I’m not about the games. I’m not trying to make him jealous.”
Forcing myself to stay where I am, and not move over so that I’m just as close to her as I was seconds earlier, I focus on her face. “That’s…different. I don’t know too many college girls who aren’t about the games.”
I shoot a pointed glance in the direction of her blond friend.
Her gaze follows mine, and then she looks back at me.
Every time. Every single time those chocolate pools focus on me, I fall in. Deeper and deeper. I can’t help it. It’s the whole package. And then she started talking about Bon Jovi, and I almost lost it right then and there.
Control, Ace. Something you’ve never been good at, but that you’ve struggled to find. Keep it together. Control.
“So, you’re here with him?” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “I don’t see it. And you still haven’t told me your name.”
She smiles, a real smile. Not a coy, flirtatious smirk, but something sunny and genuine, and it’s equally as dangerous. Something in my chest clenches so tight at the sight of it, my hand trails over the spot.
Like something gave me heartburn.
And it wasn’t something I ate.
“I’m Naima.”
I try it out, the word rolling off my tongue like it was always supposed to be there. “Naima. That’s pretty.”
“Thanks. And you are…” One dark, perfectly arched eyebrow lifts. “Don’t leave me hangin’.”
I grasp
