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What the fuck gives? I scowl as the man slobbers all over her, dropping wet, sloppy kisses everywhere. It could be me, but she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it much. Good. I hope he’s far from fucking perfect.
He eventually drops her and opens the cab door. I expect them to get in together, but the man slides in and Lainey remains on the curb, waving him off as he drives away. And as soon as the taxi is out of sight, her head drops back and she looks to the heavens. What is that? Is she gathering patience? Strength?
After a few moments, she goes to her bag and pulls out her phone, taking it to her ear. But then she spots me across the road, and her arm falls to her side. Our eyes meet. My stupid fucking heart booms. And my cock—my cock that’s been broken for weeks—surges to life. I take a deep breath, trying to find the instruction I need to get my arse in a cab. No instruction. No anything. Except a craving so powerful it makes me dizzy. It makes me lose reason. It makes me want to smash my own face in for not being able to control it. Jesus, I have the biggest itch, and the fucker is never going to be scratched. This is unknown territory for me, and I fucking hate it with a vengeance.
Silly thoughts start to run rampant, like whether I can fire her for sleeping around. For wearing such seductive dresses to work. For playing with her hair when she’s thinking. For being a hopeless romantic but behaving like a harlot. I flinch at my stray, unreasonable thought, as she steps off the curb and crosses the road toward me.
I swallow with every pace she takes, locating that discipline and locking it down. It’s fucking hard when the most stunning, mysterious, conflicting female I’ve ever encountered is heading my way.
When she’s just a couple of feet in front of me, she comes to a stop. She’s within touching distance. If I just reach— “Hey.” I cough, stuffing my hands in my trouser pockets to keep them under control.
“Hey,” she counters.
Then silence falls, and we’re in that awful place where we just stare, both of us aware of the sexual tension fizzling around us. And on top of that, I’m wondering how much of my rant she heard earlier. I want to know who she was just snogging. I want to ask if he comes anywhere close to her idea of perfect. I want to know how many condoms are still left in that box. My mind is pushing questions forward that I have no right to ask. And shouldn’t. Go. I need to go. I start to back away, prying my rapt eyes away from her and focusing my mind on getting my sorry arse home. “Have a good weekend.” I turn.
“Drink?”
I quickly look back, shocked. And judging by the look on her face, she’s shocked by her question, too.
She drops her eyes from mine, shaking her head. “I mean—”
“Sure.”
Her blues find me again in a heartbeat, and I spend a few wasted moments trying to convince myself to retract my stupid agreement. “I didn’t mean to ask that out loud.” She laughs a little.
“Well, you did. And I agreed.” I’m playing with fire, but damn, fire is bright, it’s hot, and it’s tempting. What are you doing, Christianson?
“Just a drink?” she asks.
“What else could there be?”
I detect a little wince that she tries to disguise by looking away. “I just need a drink.”
Need? She needs a drink? “Me too.” I definitely need a drink.
“Then let’s have one.” She points to the bar where I’ve been for hours.
Going back in that bar with Lainey would probably be my wisest move. It’s getting busy, and staff from my company will probably be finding their way there soon. If I go back in there, it’ll reduce the chances of me doing something monumentally stupid. Like touching her. Grabbing her. Confessing my fantasies. Telling her she’s constantly on my mind. “There’s a lounge bar down the street.” I indicate past her and watch as she glances over her shoulder, nodding a little.
“You want to go there?” she asks, as if thinking along the same lines as me.
“Do you?” I put the ball back in her court, and she turns, gesturing for me to lead the way, which I do, despite my mind screaming at me to run in the other direction.
Lainey falls into stride beside me and we walk slowly down the street, neither of us saying a word. But we’re both thinking hard, and I bet she’s thinking exactly the same thoughts as me. What the fuck are we doing?
I pull the door of the bar open for her and let her enter before following in behind, not able to remove my eyes from her back as she wanders through the small, cozy space, selecting a table at the very back in a dim corner.
