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I hope.
Sinn
Fire by Trapt
I debate whether or not to go down to the bar tonight but then decide it’s a futile attempt to try and avoid Wendee… and these feelings. Besides, I’ve already neglected my work for too many days when I was trying to avoid her and what good did that do? Absolutely nothing. It actually made it worse. My absence caused her to act reckless and foolish, and it allowed me too much alone time to sit with myself and my own dark, twisted thoughts. Which is never a good thing.
So, I get dressed in black slacks and a dark blue button up. Blue and black are the only colors I wear because they’re the only colors that define me. They also do a great job of hiding blood. I smirk at the thought of blood blending into my clothing and no one being the wiser as I reach for my bottle ofSalvatore Ferragamo’s,Intense Leather.I spray once on my chest before buttoning up my shirt. I run a hand through my hair, combing it in its usual neat, but carefree style. I freeze mid motion as I stare at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror, realizing what I’m doing. I’m making an effort with how I look. Not that I didn’t before, but now I’m acutely aware of the fact that Iwantto look good. Forher.Son of a motherfucking bitch,I
shake my head.
It takes longer than I’d like for her to show up. It’s nearly 1:00 a.m. when she finally walks in and, as much as I want to be frustrated, I can’t help but feel relieved. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen after the events of last night; the hallway escapade and then the thing with Tink. I wasn’t sure what she would think in the light of day once the alcohol had cleared out of her system. Things are always different when you’re sober and the light is shining on all the devious deeds previously done in the dark.
But here she is.
Dressed in a navy-blue dress with a plunging V-neck, mirrored in the back, with a banded waist and a skirt that loosens and flows over her hips, all the way to the floor. Compared to some of the other outfits she’s worn, this one is mild. But when she walks, a slit on the left side exposes her leg from ankle to thigh. The slit is dangerously high, which causes my fucking blood pressure to rise just as fucking high. This dress is so much sexier because of the peek-a-boo effect and it’s definitely having the same effect on my cock.
I watch her with the intensity and focus of a Navy SEAL sniper who has his enemy in his scope. She doesn’t even glance in my direction as she walks past the booth toward her seat at the bar. Only this time, she doesn’t sit down. She orders a drink from Tink, who begrudgingly delivers it, and then she’s walking back across the dance floor, and up the ramp.
Towards me.
My heart pounds in my chest to the beat of her steps as she approaches.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
I swear the whole fucking bar should be able to hear my heart beating in my chest with the intensity in which Ifeelit. It’s a bass drum inside of my chest and it beats only for her.
Wendee.
She approaches the table, her shoulders pulled back and chin tipped up, feigning confidence, but her voice is a little unsteady as she speaks.
“Sorry to interrupt but I was hoping I could join you.”
She lifts her eyes up to meet mine as she says the last word. YOU. I was hoping I could join…you. The insinuation is clear. I stare back at her, dark blue eyes locking with bright green ones. That invigorating buzzing energy is immediate between us. We’re like two magnets being drawn together. Only sheer stubbornness and uncertainty have kept us apart but there’s no denying the sexual tension between us.
And we’ve barely even touched.
What’s going to happen when I finally give in and claim her? Because it will be me and me alone doing the touching. I don’t care how different she feels to me. No one touches me.
She finally blinks and seems to second guess her decision to come up here as she looks at the woman sitting in the booth next to me and then down at her drink.
“You’re clearly busy. I was wrong to--”
“Leave,” I growl in a low voice.
Her head shoots up as she looks at me again. I haven’t taken my eyes off of her since she stepped into this bar. I watch her throat bob in a hard swallow, and she nods her head as she takes a step away from the table.
“Not you,” I clarify. Her eyes shoot back up to mine, surprise and relief clear across her features.
I finally slide my eyes away from hers and acknowledge the woman sitting beside me for the first time since Wendee walked in.
“Leave,” I repeat, not kindly.
