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I grab my keys from the bar and lock the door behind me. There’s a little sandwich place just down the street, so I make my way there. A light, early summer breeze flurries down the street after me, and I step inside gratefully. It’s not quite warm enough to appreciate that yet.
I order my sandwich, grab a bottle of Coke, and head back down to the bar. I don’t want to go home yet. It’s still too empty.
The Lounge is a place relatively untouched by Tyler.
I sit back at the bar once inside and open my sandwich. The optics at the back of the bar are empty, ready for the big bottles to be delivered tomorrow, and I stare at them, wondering how to organize them. I grab my pen and flip over the sheet of paper with Aaron’s note on it.
I absently scribble on it, scrawling the spirit names as I stare at the back of the bar.
“You didn’t have to get me anything to eat.”
I jolt, drop my pen, and turn. Tyler grins at me—a big, boyish grin that makes my breath catch.
“You’re back?” I stare at him dumbly.
“I’m back.” He holds his arms out and I dive into them, curling mine around his neck.
I hold on tight to him. My face buries into his neck and I breathe him in. Relief and relaxation seep through my body at the feel of his lips against my neck and his hands splaying across my back. At the simple sound of his voice, at the touch of his hands, at just being near him.
“You could tell a guy where you are, you know? I’ve been up the arsehole of this damn city trying to find you.”
I pull back and smile at him. “I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow.”
He grins and runs his thumb across my jaw. “Some things are more important than stuck-up, self-righteous size zeros.”
Our lips meet in a soft kiss, one that sends shivers through me with its tenderness.
“It’s a good thing I’m not a size zero,” I murmur.
“Don’t ever be a size zero,” he murmurs back, setting me back on my stool and slipping between my legs. “You’re far too fucking sexy to lose your curves.” He slides his hand down and over my hip and thigh as if to prove his point.
I smile and wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head against his stomach. He hugs my shoulders, understanding instantly that I just need to touch him. Need him to touch me.
His stomach is hard beneath my cheek, rising and falling lightly with every breath he takes. But it’s not enough. Still not enough, so I slide one of my hands beneath his shirt and flatten it against his bare skin.
He twitches beneath my touch but doesn’t move. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what order I’m putting the bottles in,” I answer, staring at the bar again.
“Really? It looks like you had a party for one in here.” He looks at the dance floor and then down at me.
I tilt my head back to meet his gaze and smile innocently. “It was pissing me off. I wanted her to look like a real bar.”
“Her? You talk like she’s your baby.”
“She is. Kind of. And I want her to be perfect.” I squeeze him and let my arms drop. I reach for the other half of my sandwich, but a larger hand grabs it. “Hey!”
Tyler takes a big bite. “What? Aaron might be a freakin’ billionaire these days, but he needs a decent damn chef on his plane.”
I stare at him flatly. “Oh, I feel for you. Imagine having a bad private chef on your private plane.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs like he always does when I mock his attitude.
“I know. You’d think he could afford a good one.” He takes the seat next to me. “Why do you have the sloe gin with the whisky?”
“Huh?”
He taps my sheet.
“I don’t know. You’ve been distracting me all weekend. It’s a wonder I managed to use my vibrator successfully.”
