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Excerpt:
I didn't know what Owen had in mind, but it was already obvious to me that I would go anywhere this man was leading. He kept his hand in mine as he guided me through the crowded bar and toward the pool tables. Thankfully, because the band was still playing, the back of the bar was far less populated.
"Is playing pool normally part of a first date with you, or are you just trying to get me alone?" I teased.
Owen took a step towards me, pinning me between him and the pool table.
"Both," he said with a smile on his face that I could only describe as wicked.
I tilted my head to the side as I looked up at him. "Let's make it interesting, then."
"Interesting?"
I took a step to the side, sliding out from between him and the ancient wooden table. I grabbed a pool cue off of the rack and tossed it to him before grabbing a decidedly smaller one for myself. "We're going to need more shots," I said to him.
A smile crept over his dark features. "My kind of girl..." he murmured as he lowered his head towards mine.
"Nope, if you want to kiss me, you better plan on winning."
Owen shook his head and left me at the table while I started to rack the balls. A few minutes later, he returned with four shots; two of whiskey, two of tequila. I took one of the shot glasses filled with dark brown liquor straight out of his hand and threw it back. I winced as the alcohol made my throat close in on itself. The truth was, I might have been putting on a show. I enjoyed the way I felt around Owen, but I didn't know if I was as wild as I wanted him to believe.
"So what are the stakes here?" he asked me as he set the remaining shots on a nearby hightop.
"If you win, you get to take me home..." I said in a voice I barely recognized as my own. It was breathy and seductive. Those two shots apparently went to my head faster than I thought.
"And if you win?" Owen asked with a raised brow.
"If I win, I get a second date."
"Who said we can't do both?" he said with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes. I didn't have this whole impulsive, whiskey-drinking, short skirt-wearing Jacey completely figured out yet.
Owen took a step towards me. He reached for my hips and pulled me toward him. "What do you really want?"
I could feel my pulse banging in my ears, and the loud, crowded bar faded into the background. He reached around my head, threading his fingers into my hair and tugging me towards him. I leaned forward, expecting him to kiss me, but his mouth hovered over mine.
"What do you want?" he asked again.
"You," I said, my voice caught in my throat.
"What was that?" he asked teasingly. His deep voice, vibrating through me.
"I want you."
Finally, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me deeply. Kissing Owen wasn't new to me; we couldn't stop kissing the night he drove me over the Brooklyn Bridge. But this was something else. I wasn't sure I even knew my own name anymore.
"When I take you home, it's going to be because you're begging me to...not because I won at pool."
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