That Man 2 by Nelle L'Amour Page B

blood whipped through my arteries and veins like a rollercoaster.
    I nodded. I was a wet bundle of nerves. “I need another drink.”
    He held my gaze fierce in his. “You’re quite the singer, Jennifer. Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?”
    His seductive voice sent me over the edge. “Blake, I need a cock—”
    “Tail?” He finished the sentence for me. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I could. His intense eyes and intoxicating scent were rendering me senseless. And weak in the knees. Breaking away from him, I slid into the booth. He followed me in, sitting closer to me than before. The heat of his body diffused through me. Under the table, my toes curled.
    Our cocktail waitress came by again. She instantly shimmied up to Blake. “Hi, gorgeous, what can I get you?”
    Gorgeous? It was if she only had eyes for him. I felt invisible.
    Blake winked at her. I inwardly cringed. Why should his every little move with other women drive me to despair? Get me some alcohol!
    “I’ll have whatever these beautiful young women are having,” Blake responded before turning to us. “Can I buy you each another round?”
    “Pass,” said Libby. “I’ll just have some water.” That was a first.
    “I’ll have another chocolatini. In fact, make it a double.” I could actually see daggers shooting out of my eyes, but the flirtatious, oblivious waitress deflected each and every one of them.
    Libby looked concerned. “Are you sure, Jen? You’ve had a lot to drink.”
    “I’m positive,” I shot back.
    The waitress took off.
    “So, Mr. Burns, what is it with you and cocktail waitresses?”
    He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”
    “Maybe it has something to do with the word ‘cock.’”
    “Ms. McCoy, I think that word affects you more than it does me.”
    I was tingling like crazy all over. Beneath the table, I crossed my legs to quell the unbearable sensation.
    “Cock is a funny word,” said Libby, joining our conversation. “I read once that it comes from the French word spelled c-o-q which means ‘male bird.’”
    “That’s cockamamie,” I retorted.
    Libby burst into laughter. “ Cock -a-ma-mie. That’s a good one.” She paused, that clever mind of hers clearly at work. “I have an idea. Let’s play a game and come up with words that begin with ‘cock.’ The first person who can’t think of one, loses and has to buy another round of drinks.”
    Oh, no! Libby and her games. My murky mind flashed back to the last time I played a game with her. Truth or Dare. A wildfire zipped through my already heated body. That man! That kiss!
    Blake’s dreamy voice interrupted my flashback. “Okay. What about cocky?”
    That word sure summed up his personality. Of course. He thought with his cock. That fucking giant cock! The memory of seeing it exposed at his parents’ Shabbat dinner flashed into my head. A shudder ran through me. And then a flutter crept between my legs.
    Blake continued. “Oh, by the way, ladies, I should let you know that I never lose at games.”
    Fiercely competitive Libby smirked at him. “Neither do I.”
    “And, for your information, Mr. Cocky , I was an English major and excel at word games. No one can beat me at Scrabble, except my father who was an English professor.”
    Blake shot me a wry smile. “You should play with me some time.”
    Was that another sexual innuendo? Or was I just reading into things? I mentally slapped myself. Stop it, Jen. What the heck is wrong with you?
    Our drinks arrived. Blake proposed a toast. “To winning.” Clinking my mega-size martini glass against his, I shot him a smirk of my own. I took a heaping gulp of the martini cocktail. Suddenly, my head began to spin. A din buzzed in my ears. And nausea rose to my chest.
    “Whose turn is it?” asked Libby. The words spun around in my head. Libby’s eyes focused on me. “Jen, I think it’s yours. Are you okay?”
    “Jennifer?” It was Blake. I whipped around and looked at him.