Page 2 of The Best Bad Decision

“Nice,” Amie hummed. “I’m a purser in London.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Best job in the world.” She grinned indulgently. “What’s your favourite layover?”

“Probably this one.” Cam nodded softly as he answered, considering his words as he said them. “I love Asia. Hong Kong is a favourite, too.”

“Pretty long flight for you, no?”

“Sixteen hours from San Francisco,” he agreed. “Longer if I actually flew out of Phoenix, but I commute to San Fran. It’s not so bad. I mean, we get paid to see the world, right?”

“Exactly! What’s a sixteen-hour flight between friends?” She waved down the bartender and signalled for two more drinks. They arrived quickly, and Amie lifted hers to her lips, sipping the fruity concoction through a neon yellow straw.

“What about you, Amie?” Cam slid his stool closer until they were touching, arms and thighs pressed together in spite of the heat. “What’s your favourite layover?”

“I do like Asia,” she answered. “But I love South America.” Her voice took on a dreamy tone, a faraway look in her eyes. “Quito, Cali, Santiago… I could live in Santiago. Those mountains, the food…”

“You ever skied in the Andes?”

“Hell no,” she laughed. “I’m a lover, not a skier.”

Cam laughed out loud, a deep rumble from his chest that had Amie grinning and shifting in her seat, pushing her thighs together against the fluttering between them.

Three more Singapore Slings later, all caution had been thrown to the wind. Amie’s hips swayed, her ass brushing gently against hiscrotch, and he rested his hands on her hips, a gentle pressure keeping their bodies flush together. Her dress ruffled in the light breeze, the loose skirt rising to reveal even more of her long, lean legs as she leaned back into him. His lips brushed against her ear, then her jaw, and she tilted her head to grant him access. His hand moved around to rest against her stomach, pulling her impossibly—dangerously—close. The makeshift dance floor in the bar was full, a sea of bodies pressed up against one another, warm from the alcohol, the proximity and the equatorial humidity.

The DJ had a penchant for Latin America and Amie sang along, her Spanish impeccably fluent and lightly accented with something that sat just a little closer to English. She swung her hips again, this time grinding against him with a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Cam tightened his fingers on her hips, feeling his jeans become uncomfortably tight.Two can play this game. He smiled into her hair, tipping his lips to her ear again.

“Te reto a que me des un beso.” He smirked wickedly as a pretty pink blush rose all the way from her chest to the tips of her ears.I dare you to kiss me. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips to his.

He brushed the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened for him, warm and fruity, sweet like the cocktails they’d been drinking. He moaned into her mouth as their tongues danced, moving a hand from her hip to her spine to her shoulder blades, eventually settling to cradle her head as he angled his head, kissing her deeper. Tongues rubbed and lips slid together, bodies pressed as close as they could be. With one last nip of Cam’s lower lip, Amie broke the kiss for air, breathing hard. Citrus, cedar, and whiskey assaulted her senses, leaving her dizzy and delirious, desperatefor more.

“Hell of a kiss,” she challenged with a smile. “You always kiss strangers like that?”

He growled and closed the space between them again, slanting his mouth over hers and nipping at her lower lip with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. She mewled into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, shifting and widening his stance slightly as his cock swelled in his pants.

They pulled apart when the countdown began. Hazel eyes locked with green, the conversation unspoken but understood, before Cam sealed his mouth over Amie’s one more time. They continued to explore each others’ mouths as cheers and fireworks erupted around them. Amie pushed her hips against his, smiling into his mouth as she felt his hardness straining against his jeans, the thick outline clearly visible, pressed up against the fly. She reached a hand between them and rubbed him over the rough fabric, and he hissed out a heavy breath.

“Playing with fire, gorgeous,” he warned. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.”

“Who says I’m not gonna finish it?” She retorted with a cheeky smile, then sealed her lips to his again. “Take me to your room, Cam.”

The next few moments were a blur of hands, tongues and lips as they fought for dominance, pushed up against the wall of the elevator and then the wall in the hallway as Cam fumbled for his room key. They fell through the door, letting it slam closed and flicking the lock with a loudsnick, before Cam pulled Amie into his arms and sealed his lips over hers again.

“Fucking sweet, pretty girl,” he grumbled against her lips. “Yourmouth is so fucking sweet.”

She hummed an approval, hands flying to his waist to grapple first with his belt buckle and then the button of his jeans, popping them open and shoving them roughly down his hips.

“Patience, beautiful,” he crooned.

“No more patience,” she answered breathlessly. “Take me now.”

“That’s my needy girl.” He latched his mouth to her throat, kissing and sucking a wet line down to her sharp collarbones. “Tell me what you want next.”

“You,” she moaned. “I want you. Make me scream.”

It was still dark when she woke. Finally sated and exhausted, they had fallen asleep just a couple of hours earlier, with Amie’s head on Cam’s chest and his arms around her, holding her close. Carefully, she extricated herself from his grip and slipped out from beneath the sheets. He didn’t stir, and she sent a silent thanks.

Tiptoeing around the room, she collected her underwear and dress from the night before and pulled them on. She dangled her heels from one finger and, with one last glance at his peaceful, sleeping face, she quietly unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving Cam with nothing but her sea salt perfume on his skin and the memory of the one that got away.

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