Down for Her Melissa Chambers (bts books to read txt) 📖

He chuckles. “That’s the last word anyone’s ever used to describe me.”

“Seriously, look at you. You’re throwing a dinner party.”

“It’s not a dinner party. It’s me making dinner and all you people eating it.”

I point at him, squinting. “I think that might be a dinner party.” I hold my cup up to his. We knock them together and then take drinks, both keeping an eye on one another.

Someone has turned on music, which seeps from a speaker positioned next to the television, and Janelle and Chris dance like we’re in a club. Tori looks like she’s feeling good, moving to the music and sipping her drink while Val moves up to her.

I look at Brett, because we’re the only two idiots not dancing, but I’m absolutely rotten at it. I’ve never felt the music in my bones to the point of moving my body, not since I was a toddler and didn’t care what anyone thought. I’ve never felt like a sexpot a day in my life, and today is no exception.

Brett takes my hand and twirls me slowly, and I like that I don’t have to duck. Joshua was a little shorter than me, which I never minded, but it’s nice to be face-to-face with a guy who’s a little taller than me.

The song ends, and everyone breaks apart for a moment, but the next song that starts is this Sofi Tukker song that I love, and I jump with excitement, splashing a little sangria out of my cup. “Oh, crap!”

Brett chuckles. “I doubt that’s the worst that’s been on this floor.” He sets my cup down on the dining room table along with his, then takes my hands in his and pulls me into an open space in the living room. Someone turns the music up, and before I know it, we’re full-on dancing together like Tori and Val and Janelle and Chris. Well, not exactly like Janelle and Chris. They may be headed toward an R rating. But we are dancing, and I’m letting loose and moving like I’m a totally normal person who has been dancing in the clubs for years and not spending weekends at posh restaurant openings and snooty wine bars. Brett and I have our fingers threaded together, and we move close then pull away and tease and taunt, and it’s so freaking fun.

A knock sounds at the door, and Val opens it. Some people from last night, including Bailey and Simone, come in. We hug like it’s been years since we’ve connected. They make a sandwich out of me before I even know what’s happening. I have never been a girl who’s danced like this with other girls, but something about this is okay with me. If my circle of friends back home could only see me now, they’d all be clutching their pearls.

I don’t know how many songs I’ve danced to or how many people I’ve danced with, but this has become a full-on party. At some point, Brett handed me my drink, which I drank. At another point, someone handed me a shot, which I did, and now I’m just fluffy enough that I either need to eat or pass out somewhere. I’m not a lightweight, but the lack of food is definitely a problem.

I glance around for Brett and find him right behind me. I tug on his shirt, and he leans in toward me. “I’ve got to eat or pass out.”

“Come on,” he says, and I follow him into the kitchen.

He opens a drawer and pulls out two forks, and then he picks up one of the pans. “Grab those,” he says, motioning to the flour tortillas.

I take them and follow him as he maneuvers through the crowd to his bedroom and shuts and locks the door behind us. We collapse onto the bed, and he pulls the lid off the pan.

“Oh, my God. Cold meat has never looked so amazing,” I say.

He hands me a fork, and we dig in like savages. I eat what feels like half the pan before I pull a tortilla out of the bag. “I haven’t unabashedly eaten carbs without analysis and justification in at least half a decade.” I offer the bag to him. “You want one?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he says and takes it from me and rips it in half with his teeth like a dog. We both crack up so hard that we’re doubled over when someone bangs on the door. “Brett, are you in there?” some guy shouts.

“Fuck off. I’m trying to get laid,” Brett shouts back, which has us laughing even harder. We both hold our fingers over our mouths, instructing the other one to “Shhhhhhhh.”

We fall on our backs from laughter and full bellies. He moves the pan to the floor and then lies back with his hands behind his head. “That was fun.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I utter. “I haven’t eaten like that in years…maybe since college.”

He eyes me, looking so freaking sexy with the muscles in his triceps bulging. “Where do you come from?” he asks.

I look at him over my shoulder. “Oklahoma.”

“I don’t mean where in the country. Who were your people? What was your world like before this?”

I exhale a deep breath and lie back on the bed, resting my head in my hand. “You don’t wanna know. It’s super boring.”

“I’m interested. You seem like a fish out of water here.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, though it could be one of many things, including my BMW that I expect to disappear any day now when my dad figures out where I am and that I’m not coming back, or my dance moves, which scream of my lack of clubbing experience.

“Things like eating a tortilla seem like a new experience for you.”

“Ah. The tortilla gave me away, huh?”

He rolls over onto his side, facing me, sliding his arm under his pillow. “Not just the tortilla. You seemed to really enjoy yourself tonight…like maybe you haven’t in a while.”

I can’t