A hand presses against my lower waist and I gasp, spinning around to face Thayer. “Sorry, I needed a drink.” He acts innocent as his hand sweeps over my ass before opening the fridge. “You prefer the cans,” he notes, nodding at the one clutched in my hand. “Yeah, I think it tastes better.” “You should’ve said something. I would’ve bought those instead of bottles.” I lift my shoulders. “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Still, I want to get you what you like.”
