Page 26 of You and I


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“Anna... I mean Logan. Logan Blake.” I stutter again, cursing myself under my breath for my less than composed demeanor.

“Logan. Ah yes, here you are.” She says, skimming an appointment book in front of her. Without looking at me, she picks up the phone and waits until the person on the other end answers before speaking again. “Logan Blake to see Mr. Reed.” She says. “Yes, thank you.” She hangs up the handset and turns her attention back to me.

Within seconds, a middle aged man dressed in a white button down shirt and black dress pants approaches, nodding at the woman before turning his attention to me. “Ms. Blake?” He asks, waiting for my nod before continuing. “Right this way.” He says, turning on his heel and heading to the left of the desk.

Throwing a small wave to the receptionist, I quickly pick up the pace to keep up with the man in front of me. He leads me through the center of the main floor, which looks more like a botanical garden then a hotel lobby. He weaves in and out of other patrons and employees before finally veering to the right and stopping at the entrance of what looks like a fancy restaurant.

Turning to face me, he speaks for the first time since greeting me at the desk. “Mr. Reed will join you shortly. Until then, you are welcome to sit at the bar. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asks, nodding when I shake my head no. “Well then, have a lovely evening.” He says before turning and walking away.

I utter a quiet “Thank you” but by the time it leaves my lips, it's likely he's too far away to have heard me say it. Taking a deep breath, I step inside the dimly lit room. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light as I quietly make my way towards the bar that lines the back wall.

Pulling out a stool at the very edge of the bar, I swivel to the side, taking in my surroundings. It's exactly what I imagined a lounge would look like in a hotel of this caliber. Dark wood tables and matching chairs are scattered strategically throughout the space. Matching bar stools line the bar and there is a small stage against the right wall equipped with a beautiful white grand piano.

There are several people at the bar but only a handful spread out among the tables. I can't imagine many people make their way down here until the much later hours. Pulling my cell out of my black clutch purse, I unlock the screen and quickly check the time. Just after seven. Looking up, I jump slightly when I realize that the bartender is standing directly in front of me.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” He says, smiling warmly at me. He's a younger guy, maybe mid-twenties, and while he is no Bentley Reed, he definitely has some attractive qualities. Messy blonde curls and bronzed skin make him look like he just stepped straight off of a beach somewhere in California and when he smiles wider at me, I find myself smiling back. “Is there something I can get for you?” He asks, sitting a drink napkin in front of me.

“Just a water please.” I say, immediately changing my mind. “Actually, can I have something else. I mean, something with alcohol.”

“Sure thing. Pick your poison.” He says, gesturing to the various bottles lining glass shelves behind the bar.

“Um...” I say, not sure what half of the bottles are. “What do you recommend?” I decide to take suggestions rather than order something without really knowing what I'm ordering.

“That depends. Do you like sweet?” He asks.

“I do.” I answer.

“I've got just the thing.” He says. Turning away, he starts grabbing various bottles from the shelf and pouring them into a glass before making his way back to me just moments later, an orange drink garnished with a cherry in his hand. “Sex on the beach.” He smiles, sliding the drink towards me. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He says, making his way back down the bar to assist another customer.

Turning in my stool, I position myself in a way that I can see the entrance to the lounge. I want to make sure that I know the moment Bentley arrives. Taking a sip of my drink, I am immediately rewarded with a sugary concoction that has me going back for a second drink immediately. I didn't know alcoholic beverages could be this good.

Taking my time, I drink it down slowly, not wanting to push my limits too far. I pass the time watching the people around me, most of which appear to be older gentleman here on business. I can tell by the way they are dressed and how they interact with one another. It's quite fascinating really. How different people are. How different lives are lived.

I lose myself in the buzz of alcohol flowing through my veins and the various conversations flowing around me and for a moment, I forget why I am even here. That is, until I flick my eyes to the door and am immediately met by the incredibly blue eyes of none other than Mr. Bentley Reed.

He smiles at me with a mischievous grin and then begins making his way towards me. My pulse quickens with each step he takes. Hands shoved in the pockets of his black slacks, he crosses the room like he doesn't have a care in the world. A power radiates from him and it's unlike anything I can even begin to explain.

His gray button down shirt is unbuttoned just to the top of his chest and clings to his broad shoulders. I take a sharp intake as my eyes travel down, taking in every inch of this powerful man who still has the body of a professional athlete, before traveling back up to meet his heated gaze.

Without a word, he slips into the stool next to me, his scent immediately engulfing me. He smells incredible. A mixture of expensive cologne and a hint of something sweet that I can't quite pinpoint. Signaling the bartender, I watch his profile as his lips pull up in smirk. Flicking his eyes towards me, he gives me a look that practically melts my flesh to the stool I am sitting on and then turns his attention back to the approaching bartender.

“Scotch please.” He says, waiting patiently as the bartender retrieves his order, not once looking in my direction. I can feel my anxiety building in the pit of my stomach and getting stronger as it works it's way into my chest. What is he up to?

He drains the contents of his glass in one large gulp and then throws some cash down on the bar in front of him before finally turning towards me. The moment his eyes land on mine, my heart rate picks up speed. He cocks his head to the side, studying me for what seems like an eternity before leaning in so close to my face that I am afraid to breathe.

“You look beautiful.” He whispers, dropping his lips to my cheek in a kiss so soft, I wonder if he even touched my flesh. Heat floods my body as he pulls back slightly and smiles wickedly at me. “Are you ready Ms. Blake?” He asks, his breath dancing across my face, the overwhelming scent of scotch invading my nostrils as I breathe him in.

“The question is, are you?” I ask, pushing off my bar stool and brushing my body against his as I step past him. I'm not sure if it's surprise or excitement that dances across his face as he catches my arm before I can step out of his reach.

Pulling my body flush with his, he trails the back of his hand across the side of my face before dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. “I don't know if one night is going to be enough.” He says, leaning down so only I can hear him. “I'm afraid I may never get my fill of you.” He whispers, his lips closing down on mine.

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