Page 67 of One More Shot
‘Dane, I—’
A shrill beeping sound jolts us both back to reality.
‘Shit,’ I mutter, reaching for my phone to turn off the alarm I’d set earlier. ‘My break’s over.’
Dane groans as he lets his head slump against my shoulder. ‘Are you kidding me?’
I can’t help but laugh as I peel myself off him. ‘Unfortunately not.’
He looks up at me through hooded eyes and I have to admit, I like this look on Dane. His chest is still heaving, his lips are wet and slightly swollen, and his dick is still happily standing to attention in his sweatpants.
Idid that.
Dane and I aren’t destined for love, that much is for certain. But maybe this can be enough for me.
Maybe.
Chapter Twenty-TwoDANE
Eliott is going to be the end of me. I’m sure of it. You can practically put it on my tombstone at this point.
Here lies Dane Clarke. Cause of death: Eliott Rayne.
Because it’s been two weeks since I drove her to that wedding and, despite the turn our ‘platonic’ relationship has taken, we’ve not got anywhere close to replicating what happened in the back of my van.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m transported back to that moment. Even now, as I’m sitting on Cash and Bailey’s sofa waiting for the groom-to-be to finish shoving last-minute items into his suitcase, I’m still thinking about Eliott.
The way she sounded. The way she felt. The way she mademefeel. Better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.
It’s not like we haven’t tried to pick up where we left off. When she finished the job and came back out to the van that evening, we both briefly entertained the idea ofresuming things. But then all the guests started piling out of the venue and we both agreed that it probably wasn’t the right time or place.
I dropped her home, and she invited me in, an invitation I was more than happy to accept. But then Sasha came bounding out of the front door and we both knew that any hope of privacy was dashed.
Our work schedules over the next two weeks just didn’t line up either.
‘It’s wedding season,’ Eliott told me wryly when, for the fifth night in a row, she had to spend the evening photographing another happy couple instead of curling up beside me in bed.
And now this is the first free weekend she’s had in weeks, but I’m about to head off on a four-day trip to Amsterdam for Cash’s stag do. It’s something I should be wildly excited about, but I can’t help the itch of frustration simmering beneath the surface.
I glance up as Finn walks into the room, tugging a suitcase that looks like it cost more than three of my monthly mortgage payments behind him. I can’t help but snort. I make good money with my business, but it’s definitely not Finn Hawthorne kind of money.
‘Can you send over the link for the train tickets again?’
‘Sure.’
I forward over the booking confirmation email for ourtrain tickets from London to Amsterdam later this afternoon. Cash, Finn, myself, and two of our other friends, Leo and James, make up the groomsmen, and we’re celebrating with four days in Amsterdam before we head on over to Italy for the wedding.
‘Thanks,’ Finn says as he drops into the seat opposite me and immediately begins tapping away on his phone. It wasn’t a surprise when Cash told me he wanted to ask Finn to be one of his groomsmen. They’ve got closer since Amber and Finn started dating and Cash and Bailey have been on more double dates with the two of them than I can keep up with.
They flew in last week so Amber could host Bailey’s hen party and wedding shower, and now it’s our turn for some fun.
‘All right,’ Finn says suddenly, looking up from his phone to grin mischievously at me. ‘I’ve upgraded us to first-class.’
I snort again. This is what I mean byFinn Hawthorne kind of money, but I’m not complaining.
‘Nice,’ Cash cheers as he strolls into the room, tugging his definitely overpacked suitcase behind him. ‘Thanks, man. You didn’t have to do that.’
Finn shrugs noncommittally. ‘It’s no big deal. Think of it as another part of our wedding gift to you guys.’
