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Selena had looked at me oddly when I returned to the table. My lipstick smudged, but she didn’t ask me bout it. She let me be, which I was grateful for.
A few days later, I had a new client to prepare for and went out to get supplies. My arms were filled with flowers, baskets, and fairy lights.
I waited in the mirrored elevator until the door dinged open on my floor.
The stuff in my arms was blocking my vision. I didn’t see the person just outside the elevator until I ran them over…again…and sent everything I had tumbling to the floor.
“I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking—oh, it’s you. We got to stop meeting like this,” I smirked shyly, looking at the man I had been silently simmering with over the past few days. I dropped to the floor and picked up the flowers and the baskets.
To my surprise, the giant brooding man got down and helped me with my stuff. Instead of handing it to me, he looked at me, waiting for me to start toward my apartment.
“You want to help me?”
“Unless you want to carry these all yourself and risk knocking over another innocent bystander.”
I rolled my eyes. “You could see my line of sight was blocked. You could have moved over.”
“You bulldozed me down, yet again. I didn't have enough time.”
That was true. I had nearly knocked him over, but that was because I was reeling from thoughts of him and the fact that I hadn’t had a decent orgasm in days. Every time I tried, I couldn’t. It was his fault.
“Fine, follow me.” I led the way to my apartment.
I was hyper-aware of his closeness to me. The man was like a tall tower, for crying out loud. His scent of spice and leather filled my nostrils, and I was instantly taken back to that night.
The way he had held me and the way my body had just set on fire after his touch.
Dammit. This was not the time to be thinking about him this way. This man was not my friend, and I was mad at him. I needed to stay mad at him.
I unlocked the door to my apartment and let him go in first.
“You can just put them on the counter over there.”
He set the flowers he held on to the counter, and I did the same.
I then turned to the tall, brooding man, unsure what to do next. I wanted to ask what the hell that was at the bar the other day. But I also knew that my chances of getting an answer were slim.
“Well, thanks. You can go now.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
He stood in his place still as stone.
“You can go,” I said again. “Your services are no longer required here.”
He stared at me with those eyes. They were like swords piercing right through my entire chest. The air in my lungs suddenly evaporated, and I was left reeling.
The space between us crackled to life just like it had that night at the bar. That pulling feeling returned, and I felt my entire body buzz with excitement.
There was something about him that just awakened me. There was something about him that ignited all the dead and broken parts of me.
I hated how my body reacted to him when my mind knew better. I knew better than to feel this way for someone like Nate. He was like a sin.
Dark. Tempting. Forbidden.
If people could be drinks, then he would be a dark bourbon. Once you drank him in, you would taste his bitterness. It would bring your senses to life and air into your lungs. And then the burn followed if you decided to take him in. A scorching kind of burn that you always remembered. It was the kind of pain that went back in for more. But only if you were brave enough to retake him.
Bourbon was not simply a drink you fell upon, like vodka or tequila. It sought you out. Bourbon was only for those who could stomach its bitterness and burn.
It was not for the faint of heart. So now I wondered to myself why I wanted to try it.
