I watch my drunken friend being led out of the bar by Jesse and grin from ear-to-ear. ‘What are you smirking at?’ My grin widens and I turn to face Jesse’s cute mate, finding him eyeing me over his bottle of beer. His mousey hair is a mass of waves upon his adorable head and the short sleeves of his t-shirt are taut on lickable biceps. My tongue leaves my mouth involuntary and paints a wet trail across my bottom lip as I imagine doing just that. Licking him. Everywhere. ‘Can’t a girl just…smile?’ His lips curve around the mouth of his bottle, unleashing that fucking dimple. I hate that dimple. It disarms me in an instant and creates funny tingles between my thighs that tell me more than I’m prepared to acknowledge. ‘You weren’t smiling, Kate. You were grinning. There’s a difference.’ ‘And what’s that?’ I ask cockily, tipping my glass to my lips nonchalantly, like I couldn’t care less whether he answers me or not. Annoyingly, I do care. Annoyingly, I want him to continue talking in the sex-filled timber. Annoyingly…I want him to talk to me in that tone while in bed. Any bed. Or up against…