“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.”
“Duh.” She stopped at the entrance of her bedroom and leaned against the wall. A thin sliver of her belly was exposed as she toyed with her shirt. “Double duh.” Then she moved.
My spine straightened like someone had poured steel down it.
Damn, the image she offered right there was almost too much to resist. Her back was arched slightly and her eyes heavily hooded as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. Each breath she took raised breasts I’d always known would be fucking glorious, because if they looked that good covered up, they’d have to be marvelous with nothing hiding them. She pressed the back of her head against the wall and wetted her lips.
My cock jerked in response. “Andy…”
“Tanner…” she mimicked.
I bit back a groan, and then tensed as she suddenly pushed off the wall. She swayed a little on her feet as she eyed me. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Nuttin’.”
No way did I believe her. Wariness and a whole different kind of emotion warred inside me as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.
“Sure.” My voice had thickened.
She tilted her head to the side, lashes lowering. “Why have we never hooked up?”
“What?” I really prayed that I heard something different.
“Are you being coy?” Andrea moved an inch closer. “Or are you just dumb?”
“Whoa. You really know how to come on to a guy.”
Her grin flashed, and then disappeared quickly. “Don’t you want—?”
“Don’t finish that question,” I cut her off, more roughly than I intended.
It was like watching air being let out of a balloon. She deflated that quickly. Shoulders lowering as her hands moved to her denim-clad thighs, she dipped her chin as she shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.” She turned sideways, toward the door, lifting her chin slightly. “I’m home. Y-You can go now.”
“Andy, I…” What could I say? That the idea of her coming on to me only when she was drunk filled me with the urge to punch something? And that when she was sober, she was more likely to stab me than smile at me?
She stopped, her lashes lifting as she looked up at me. Her smile was wan, so unlike the earlier ones. “It’s okay.”
My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. I had no idea what to do with her, but then she placed her hands on my chest again. There was enough time to stop her, more than enough time, but I didn’t, and I had no idea what that said about me, but then I wasn’t thinking. She stretched up as her hands reached my shoulders and she pressed her lips against mine. It was soft and quick. Andrea tasted of sugar and liquor, but her mouth was warm and sweet as her lips moved over mine.
The single kiss hit me hard, jarred me and rattled me up. So much so that when she moved away, entering the bedroom and partly closing the door behind her, I didn’t move for what felt like five minutes. No shit. There was a good chance I actually did stand there for five minutes, like some kind of dumbass with a hard-on for a girl who was so drunk I’d had to cart her sweet ass home.
But she’d kissed me.
But she’d kissed me while drunk, which canceled out the whole kissing part.
“Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my hand over my head as I stared at the door. Part of me wanted to run, the other half was still dumbstruck. I needed to check on her. That’s what I told myself when I walked forward and pushed at her door.
The lamp was on, casting the room in a soft buttery glow. Andrea was on the bed, lying atop the covers, half on her side and half on her belly. I couldn’t leave her like that. No way. Walking over to the bed, I carefully lifted her legs and managed to get them under the comforter, shifting her so that she was safely lying on her side. Then I grabbed one of her extra-long body pillows, shoving in behind her back so she couldn’t roll over, just in case she got sick.