Page 27 of Boards & Betrayal

I chuckled, pushing myself off the barstool and moving to her side. She handed me a rag and positioned herself behind me, guiding my hand with hers. Her body pressed lightly against my back, and I could feel the heat radiating from her.

"All right," she began, her voice low and close to my ear. "First, you need to apply just the right amount of pressure."

She pressed down gently on my hand, guiding it in a slow, circular motion across the bar’s surface. I followed her lead, feeling the rhythm she set.

"Like this?" I asked, trying to match her movements.

"Exactly," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. "Keep it steady. Consistent."

Her hands were firm but soft as they moved with mine. The scent of her hair—something floral—filled my senses, and I found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the feel of her body so close to mine.

We continued wiping down the bar together, our movements synchronized. The simple task took on a new intensity with her behind me, her presence almost overwhelming.

"You're a quick learner," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of approval.

"I've had good instruction," I replied, my voice rougher than I intended.

She laughed quietly; the sound vibrating through me. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

I turned slightly to catch a glimpse of her face, our eyes locking for a brief moment before she looked away. There was something there—something unspoken but palpable.

As we continued wiping down the bar, I couldn't ignore the growing desire within me. Her touch was both instructional and intimate, making it hard to separate the two.

"You know," she said after a moment, breaking the silence. "You're not bad at this."

"Thanks," I said, trying to keep my tone light despite the tension building between us. "I'm not bad at a lot of things."

She stepped back slightly, giving me some space, but still close enough that I could feel her presence.

"I think you've got it now," she said with a smile. "Keep practicing."

I turned to face her fully, our eyes meeting again. The connection between us was undeniable, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the frustrations of the night, the lingering anger about Nick—all of it seemed distant compared to the intensity of this moment with her.

"Thanks for the lesson," I said quietly.

"My pleasure," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement and something more profound.

The night had taken an unexpected turn—a turn that made me forget about all that had weighed me down just hours earlier.

"Maybe I can return the favor," I said, cocking my head to the side.

Her eyes narrowed, but she was… intrigued. Her lips curved up. "What did you have in mind?"

Chapter 9

Ally

Iwiped down the bar, grateful for the distraction. The breakup with Nick had left me reeling, and this job was a lifeline. I needed to focus on something else, anything else.

Thomas sat across from me, a rugged, brooding presence that commanded the room. He was good at making me forget, if only for a little while.

Just then, Simon's voice cut through the noise of the bar. "Oy, Al! We're closing up. Tell James Dean over there to leave."

I turned to Thomas, a shy smile playing on my lips as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I guess it's time for you to leave."

Thomas leaned back, his eyes locking onto mine. "Hmm," he mused, as if considering something profound. "You know, maybe I'll wait and walk you to your car."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking there myself," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

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