Page 13 of Breathing Wisteria
Okay, and the tension is back.
“Maybe we don’t talk about this.” My hand reaches up and I try to knead the stress from my neck.
“Good call.” She grins at me. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you just showed up here. I would have thought you didn’t go anywhere without an entourage, these days.”
“Really? We both know I don’t like people enough to deal with that shit.” I shift in my seat, moving closer to her, just enough so she doesn’t notice.
“Yeah, that’s true.” She snort-laughs and it captivates me in a way that a snort really shouldn’t. “I guess I just didn’t think you would be able to walk around the streets unnoticed, that’s all.”
“You’d be surprised what I can get away with.” I wink at her which causes her to roll her eyes. “No, seriously though. People are in their own world, living their own lives. They don’t expect to see the person whose music they sing along to, in Target, you know? If they do recognize me, more often than not they convince themselves they’re mistaken. I’m not gonna lie though, I don’t test the theory out too often, these days.”
“Yeah, I can see that. So…” She leans slightly forward, her brow raised. “Target, huh?”
“Fuck, yeah. Never trust anyone who doesn’t love Target, Cherry. Words to live by, swear to God.”
Her laugh rings through the air, lightening the mood and we launch into conversation, sharing our lives and our secrets. Everything we’ve missed over the years. I’m hurting for every drop of information she’s giving me like a junkie craving his next fix.
My eyes are fixed on her mouth as she tells me how she got started illustrating children’s books and it takes me a minute to realize she asked me a question.
“What?” I can’t even try to hide my distraction. All I can think about is how soft her lips look and how much I want to taste her.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Shit, she sounds pissed. Tearing myself away from that mouth, I do my best to focus on what she’s saying.
“Are you shitting me? Of course I am, Christ, when did you get so needy?”
“Fuck you, Irish. You were so not listening to me.” She giggles.
That giggle. Fuck. Me.
“You helped out a friend on a college assignment, illustrating a children’s book she wrote. Her professor passed it along to a friend of hers who is a children’s author and she contacted you. Then you got contacted by a bunch of her author friends and so it began.” I intone in a bored voice. “Did I miss anything?” Jesus, I hope I didn’t miss anything.
“Ugh, fine. Maybe you were listening.” She shrugs. “But I coulda sworn you were too busy thinking about kissing me.”
My heart thunders in response to her words and a sharp pain cuts through my shoulder. Am I having a fucking heart attack?
“You would let me?” The old Flynn, who was one half of Wyatt and Flynn, would never have needed to ask. This Flynn, with his ass seated on this sofa across from Wyatt, he doesn’t entirely know anymore, needs to ask.
“Probably. But it doesn’t matter, I guess. Turns out you were listening, so I guess I was imagining things.” She stifles a fake yawn. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, we should probably call it a night.”
I glance up at her ugly-ass clock—pink, Christ, this woman—and I’m surprised to see it’s after two in the morning. But, if she thinks she’s getting rid of me after that little comment, she’s got another thing coming.
“Yeah, maybe we should.”
The hint of disappointment that flashes over her face is the only encouragement I need.
Leaning forward, I grasp her neck and pull her toward me, my mouth finds hers and my tongue traces along her bottom lip, savoring the taste, still so familiar, even all these years later.
She groans, and I use the opportunity to slip my tongue in her mouth, the feel of hers sliding against my own has my cock hardening painfully.
I imagined tonight going a lot of ways. Her standing me up. Her telling me in no uncertain terms how she felt about me tracking her down. Her hand finding its way across my cheek.
I can honestly say I never considered this.
She moves against me, pushing me back against the couch and her mouth starts trailing soft licks along my jaw. When she slides her leg over my lap to straddle me, her pussy grinds along my cock causing my head to fall back, a loud groan rolling through me from deep within my chest.
My hands grip the cushion beneath me. I want to touch her so fucking bad, to slide into her pussy and thrust slowly, deeply. The way she always liked it. Instead, I’m imagining the look on her face tomorrow when this becomes just one more regret in our story.
She pulls away from me, eyes glazed over, her hips still rolling over my dick in the most perfect way. Her hands find their way into my hair and she pulls my face toward her until we are only inches away.
“Stop overthinking this.” Kiss, hip roll, moan. “I want this. Now, let’s see what you’ve got, Irish.”
