When Jorgie initially handed me this dress, I placed a small cropped jacket over the top which she promptly removed, assuring me that we were not going outside, so a jacket was unnecessary. Now I’m delighted I didn’t stick to my guns.
Hugo’s eyes track mine as I lift them back to his face. The streak of desire in his eyes spears me in place and instigates a warm slickness between my legs.
“She keeps it in the fridge,” he says, his voice gravelly.
I stare at him, utterly confused as to what his statement refers. My mind is nothing but mush from his avid gaze. My grip on the fridge handle firms when he pushes off the counter and stealthily prowls towards me. Even standing in the coolness of the fridge, sweat slicks my skin more with every step he takes.
His large body towers over mine when he leans into the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice at the very back of the top shelf. The heat radiating off his body warms my already inflamed skin. When his woodsy smell permeates the air, I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose, drinking in his delicious scent. When my eyes flutter back open, I balk and take a step back. A blaze of amusement has warmed his eyes, undoubtedly proving he noticed my vigorous sniff of his tempting smell.
“Sor--,” I attempt to say before his warm, beer-flavored lips press against mine, stealing my words.
My mouth opens to accept his kiss, but the remainder of my body freezes, unsure of how to react. His hand grips the bun in the middle of my head as his tongue slips into my mouth to sample and taste every inch. A low groan simpers from his mouth when I unstiffen my clenched jaw and return his kiss by mimicking the slow sweeps of his tongue and the soft caresses of his lips.
He leans in until my back is splayed against the open fridge door. The coolness of the pickles and spreads stored in the door refreshes my overheated skin. Our kiss builds in intensity when he wraps his spare hand around my waist and pulls me in close before ravishing my neck.
A surge of desire courses through my body when I feel the thickness straining against his trousers. His kiss is warm and wonderful. Mind-stealing. I lift my hand to rake my fingers through his long, shaggy hair when the sound of someone coughing clatters through my ears. A whimper leaks from my swollen lips when Hugo pulls away from our embrace and peers at the intruder interrupting our private time.
Following his gaze, I find the smirking face of Chase. “I take it you found something more appealing to drink than orange juice, Ava?” His voice is laced with mockery, and his eyes are pointed down, peering at the dumped carton of juice on the floor. I was so entranced by Hugo’s kiss, I didn’t notice its cool and sticky contents had puddled around my borrowed shoes.
My eyes return to Hugo when he runs his thumb along my swollen top lip. He stares into my eyes for what feels like hours, but is only mere seconds before he stalks out of the room without a backward glance…..
My focus returns to the present when Hugo leans down and takes a sizeable whiff of my hair. The wrinkles in my forehead extend to my nose when I catch the scent of his heavy pants of breath.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” I squeal when I fail to detect the smallest smidgen of alcohol on his breath.
I grimace when my overly girly voice bounces off the woodgrain walls of the elevator and shrieks through my eardrums. Unfortunately, no amount of make-up, fancy designer clothes or pretty new hairstyles can alter the sound of my immature voice.
My squeals turn into laughter when Hugo replies, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I can buy another pair.”
Once my laughter dies down, I ask. “How’d you remember that?”
He chuckles a full-hearted laugh. “How could I forget it? You and Jorgie used to say it a million times a day.”
Any refute I attempt to give is cut off when Hugo cocks his brow and bores his eyes into mine, daring me to deny his statement. I remain quiet, unable to negate his accusation, since it is accurate. Jorgie used that statement numerous times a day from the age of ten until… last week. She breaks it out whenever she accuses me of denying my attraction to Hugo.
“You can run with a lie, but you can’t hide from the truth. It will always catch up with you,” Hugo says before placing me onto my feet.
I smile at his statement, but my heart isn’t fully into it. Hugo’s never been one to hide anything. Not his feelings, his mistakes,his body, so his brash comment is somewhat surprising for a man who has always been so forthright.
Maybe it isn’t just my life that’s altered the past six years?
Seven
Ava
A grin curls on my lips when his chapped hand encloses around mine as the elevator door dings open. I nod my head in thanks to the doorman when he opens the glass door for Hugo and me. A blast of warm air hits my face when we merge onto the sidewalk. Even being late April, the night air has a nice amount of warmth to it since the heat from the day has been trapped by the clouds in the sky.
I crank my head to the left before shifting it to the right, seeking Hugo’s truck. Surprisingly, there are a still a decent number of people loitering on the sidewalks at this time of night, but Hugo’s truck is nowhere in sight. I lift my eyes to him. His lips are tugged high, his vibrant blue eyes peering at me, but he remains as quiet as a graveyard at midnight. A vast smile stretches across my face when a limousine pulls to the curb in front of us not even five seconds later. A surge of excitement rushes through me, closely followed by confusion.Why would Hugo rent a limo?
“Come on,” he says, dashing towards the limo.
We hustle through a throng of people, wanting to avoid the slight pelting of rain that has started falling from the sky. I can’t contain my childish giggle as I jog to keep up with his long strides. His lazy steps are the equivalent of me undertaking a marathon stride.
My eyes shoot in every direction when we enter the cabin of the limousine, eager to absorb the dark, moody interior. You'd think with the richness of the dark varnished wood, black leather seats and the heaviness of the tint that it would have a morose appearance, but it doesn't. It has the ambiance of seduction and intrigue deeply engrained in it.
"When did you win the lotto?" I ask, turning my gaze to Hugo, who is watching me intently.
His chuckle booms around the cabin of the car. “It’s one of the perks of my soon-to-be new job.”
