Page 10 of This or That
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I joke, letting go of clingy Mallory. The weight of her stare doesn’t escape me, and I incline my head to insinuate that she shouldn’t stick around. The perceptive girl complies; from our brief time together, she knows better than to argue.
Good! This is between Channing and me.
My brow quirks. “Small world, huh?” I taunt. Welcoming the breeze after spending hours on stage, I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my denim jacket.
The rest of the world, no matter how small, ceases to exist. Simply because what are the odds, right?
Should I be grateful or resentful at the trick that the universe is playing on us? Taking him in, I decide on the former. The guy’s as gorgeous as I remember. My attention is drawn to his sensual lips, and his green eyes bore into mine. The tip of his tongue darts out, licking his plump lower lip. Transfixed, I’m hurtled back to the club where I kissed him months ago. The taste. The softness. The fervor. He resisted, then leaned into the kiss that I stole from him. With that, my neck stiffens and so does my shaft.
Great!
Now I’m sporting a semi while ogling this beautiful stranger from the past. I can’t deny that his handsome face is part of the appeal and probably why I continue to be affected after all this time. Seeing him in the flesh, I’m swamped with a surge of conflicted sensations. I don’t believe in signs, but I’m an opportunist. It’s what landed me on this ship; I might as well take advantage of it.
It’s time to put some distance between us and the dancing zombies, bopping in unison to a recording that I put on during my break. Do they even care that I’m not live on stage?
For now, I couldn’t care less. I’m not sure what I want from him, but I refuse to let him escape quite yet. We have some sort of unfinished business to attend to. Pent-up anger. Maybe I’d like him to own up to acting like a jerk. Conflicted feelings. Maybe I’d like to kiss him again to flush him out of my system. Sinful thoughts. Maybe I’d like him to confess to enjoying the kiss as much as I did.
“We need to talk.” My tone is adamant, and I snatch his elbow to escort him away from the crowd. I expect him to refuse or argue, but he does neither; maybe he does want to say his piece. His longer legs give the false impression that he’s leading when I’m guiding the way. Entertained by how compliant Channing is, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my big mouth shut. He grunts, which boosts my horniness. I try to remain calm. He needs to come to terms with the situation by the time that we reach my destination of choice.
A fleeting thought makes me question his sexual orientation; maybe he hit on Anna because he was drunk or closeted. For all I know, he may very well be bi because I clearly affect him, which pleases me immensely. My throat is parched as I debate where to begin. Passing the bar, he stops, guzzles his beverage in record time, and deposits the empty cup on the counter.
His eyes focus on the ground when he asks in a shaky voice, “Where to?” He looks both lost and determined. There’s something about him that intrigues me, and I’m not talking about his lips that glisten with whatever quenched his thirst. Something I felt in Paris, although his attitude had been less than honorable.
Curious, I behave myself and tilt my head in the direction of a relatively secluded corner. High on our proximity, I once again ignore the rush of warmth that unfurls in my chest. My breathing becomes progressively more ragged. I don’t give a shit if he calls me out on it.
“So?” he says simply, turning to face me, remaining a safe distance from the wall. His jaw clenches, and he crosses his muscular arms over his chest in defiance.
Or protection?
Speechless, I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding while I witness the utter confusion flash across his gorgeous face. “I won’t apologize,” I blurt.
One second, he’s shooting daggers, and the next, his pupils dilate; drugs have nothing to do with it.
So much for keeping your emotions at bay, pretty boy!
I can’t make sense of it, but he doesn’t give me time to make heads or tails of the situation. As if registering that he’s let his guard down, he closes his eyes, preventing me from interpreting anything more. When his eyes pin me again, his face is impassive.
Did I dream his reaction to me? Nahhh, can’t be…
I take a step towards him. He doesn’t flinch.
What’s going on inside that head of yours? Are you bi-curious, then?
“I never asked you to.” The beads of sweat collecting on his forehead prove that I affect him, one way or another. “But I should… apologize, I mean.”
His confession unsettles me. “What?”
“To your friend. I was drunk and I—”
Apparently, we really need to talk. Yet, if I’m being honest, that’s not the reason that I led him here. Seeing him again is too good to be true. I have to push my luck. After all, he hasn’t snubbed me yet. This mere fact bolsters my confidence. Cocksure, I take another step forward, entering his personal space this time. He lets me.
There.
My brain short-circuits, and I replay the scene from Paris, sliding my hand to palm his toned butt without requesting permission. The major difference is that, today, he’s fully aware of what’s going on between us and not complaining regardless. Quite the opposite, actually. My heartbeat thumps at a concerning pace, then all the blood in my body floods south. My semi turns into a full-on stiffy.His jeans are a useless barrier to my irrepressible need for him. He lets me.
Dazed, he gawks, his labored breathing slowly driving me insane. At last, his body goes lax, and he unfolds his arms. A smug smile forms on my burning face as my depraved mind interprets this action as surrender, and I immediately wonder whether he’s going to kiss me.
In a bold move, I give his ass a firm squeeze. Lust ignites every inch of my skin as his half-mast eyes narrow. “I know you liked it then, just like you do now.”
