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Lol…are you in a pub?
“Amber?”
I glance back up at Hawthorne. He looks uncertain, like he’s not sure if he’s crossed a line. It’s flattering in a way and if this were anyone else, I’d be all over it. But this isFinn Hawthorne, and our working relationship is tenuous as it is. There’s no need to make things more complicated.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with it.
I reach up and ghost my thumb along his top lip, wiping away the foam moustache in one clean sweep. I pull my thumb back tomymouth and give it a little lick clean. It tastes like shit, but I’m enjoying the way his mouth falls open slack and his wide eyes follow my tongue as it runs along the flat of my thumb.
“Amber.” His voice is a rough keen. An almost moan.
I like it. Maybe too much.
I slide out from beneath him and drop my half-empty glass onto a nearby table as I walk away. “Got to run, Hawthorne. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his eyes on me all the way until I reach the exit and step out into the cool night air.
11
FINN
I’m goingto blame it on jet lag for that momentary lapse in judgement.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve been in this country for nearly two weeks and that my body has definitely adjusted to the time difference. Still blaming it on jet lag. Because that’s the only explanation I have for whatever the hell that just was.
It takes me a full minute to muster up the strength to even move after she saunters away. I can still feel the phantom touch of her thumb against my lip, and the image of her hips swaying as she walked out of the pub is playing on a loop in my mind.
I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that she was clearly toying with me — so obviously enjoying the way I immediately crumbled with just one fleeting touch — or the fact that I want more. The last half an hour or so with Amber might just be the highlight of my year so far. Which is incredibly pathetic, and I don’t even need Nel to tell me that.
When I eventually remember how to move my legs, I entertain the thought that she might still be outside. Maybe I’ll catch her before she climbs into her friend’s car and I can say… Saywhatexactly? I’m not sure if I want to apologise or ask her out on a date. From what I know about her, I’m not sure either will go down well. But it doesn’t matter either way because when I step out onto the street, there’s no sign of her.
Even though I now have the key to the townhouse, I don’t head back to the club. All thoughts of rescuing my laptop and spending the rest of the evening going through the contract I’d started earlier are the furthest thing on my mind. Instead, I take my time heading back to my hotel and do my best to shove Amber’s grinning face out of my mind.
It doesn’t work.
I spend the walk back wondering what she’s doing with her friend. If she’s told her about me. If they’re both laughing hysterically at my misguided attempt at flirting. If on Monday morning I’m going to have an email at the top of my inbox from Amber, removing herself from this project because I definitely got too close back in the pub.
It’s that thought that spurs me on to make my second stupidest decision of the day.
When I drop back into my bed at the hotel, I pull out my phone, and before the rational side of my brain can kick in, I do it.
FINN
Thanks again for meeting me today.
And sorry about the pub.
If it made you uncomfortable in any way.
She doesn’t respond immediately. She doesn’t respond for hours, in fact, and I’m almost certain she’s ignoring my messages. But then my phone vibrates and it’s truly embarrassing how quickly I reach for it.
AMBER
Nothing to apologise for, Hawthorne.
For the first time in a long while, I feel incredibly grateful that I’m alone and I don’t have to explain the ridiculously wide grin on my face to anyone.
* * *
