Free Bird

Chapter 13

Danny's POV:

"I'm just saying, you need to work on your form," Sammy slurred slightly at me from the other side of the pool table.

"YoU'Ve gOt tO wORk oN yoUR fORm...," I mocked him like a nine-year-old as I aimed my cue at the cue ball, concentrating.

"No, hold on. Let me show you," he said after laughing out loud at my sarcasm.

Sammy stepped up behind me and placed one hand low on my left inner thigh. I jumped a little, suddenly aware that no one had ever touched me there. A little jolt of electricity ran through my spine as he leaned forward and murmured into my ear, "You need to open your legs a little wider. So your feet are as wide apart as your shoulders."

I hesitated for about a half a second, my breath suddenly caught in my throat, before shuffling my left foot over more, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable.

"That's it," his voice sounded quiet and husky and I could feel his breath on my ear. His fingers slid back, leaving a trail of electric currents on my thigh and appearing on my lower back. "Now bend so that your chest is parallel to the floor," he applied a small amount of pressure, rubbing his hand upwards and pushing my upper back down slightly.

Butterflies exploded in my belly when he leaned over me, pushing gently into my backside and grabbing my left hand to place it on the table, "With your leaning hand, pretend that you're hiding a beer cap under it so that it's not rested all the way on the table," I shakily obeyed as he used his other hand guided my cue to rest across my thumb.

"Just like that," he whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to spread across my neck and arms.

I felt somehow very alert but very hazy. I was hyper aware of his body holding mine in this very compromising position and the music suddenly sounded muffled to my ears.

Am I drunk? Too stoned? What is this?

I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding in when he stepped back and my senses finally returned, snapping me back into reality. My right hand trembled slightly as I pulled my cue back four inches from the cue ball and sent it forward. The cue ball flew into the number 11 ball which, in turn, landed straight into a center pocket.

I turned, smiling, to a smirking Sammy, "I thought you said you could play pool, pretty lady."

"I am playing pool. Besides, I didn't say I was good at it. I just said I like it," I responded with a little bit of sass to protect my pride as I rounded the table, eyeing the number 14 ball. This time, however, I missed my mark and it landed about a quarter inch shy of the corner pocket before rolling back.

Dammit. I just know he's going to win.

Sammy's smirk widened and he stepped forward, making short work of the solids left on the table when he landed the 2, 6, and finally the 8 ball, one after another. That's the game. He looked up at me as the eight ball sunk and gave me a wink.

Cheeky fuck.

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, you have more practice and I can still kick your ass at Mario, Tetris, and Mortal Kombat."

"Are you pouting, pretty lady? Come on, don't be a sore loser," he said, rounding the table to slide an arm around my waist and lead me to the bar. "Let's get some more drinks."

"I'm not a sore loser. At least I'm not accusing you of cheating like you did me."

"You can't mash the buttons!"

"See, what I mean? Sore loser," I said, grinning before sticking my tongue out at him.

Sammy opened his mouth to protest when we reached the bar but was cut off by another voice, "Sammy... Dizzy?"