Page 3 of His Ex's Little Sister
2
Reid
Ican’t helpmyself.
Robin begins to sing, and all I can think about is how much envy I have for her handheld mic. The way her tiny hands grip tightly around the sleek length of the handle, and how her fuckable lips come so close to and sometimes brush lightly against the mesh metal ball headgrill.
If only I could be solucky.
It’s wishful thinking, though. If Robin knows anything about what happened with her sister, and I’m pretty damned positive that she does, there is no way in hell that she’ll give me the time of day. I have no business looking at her, let alonewantingher.
Toolate.
Ilook.
Iwant.
The only two questions now are, does she know or care about ancient history, and am I setting myself up for a world of hurt or worse? I stop myself from this messed up line of thinking and relax into my chair seat to enjoy the song she’s already halfwaythrough.
Thesong.
Thesinger.
The two, together, have me and everyone else in the room captivated. My mind seems to toggle back and forth between her roughly five-foot-five form. I begin to picture my hands resting on the spot just a bit higher than the flare of her hips, then running up her back, and reaching forward to cup the swell of her breasts before continuing up to the nape of her neck. My fingertips are almost burning, wanting to anchor into her silky hair as I gaze into her blue eyes, and close the space between us as I cover that mouth with mine. I can probably fantasize for hours about the things that mouth would do to me, but I’d prefer the realthing.
I make my decision thereandthen.
Fuckstayingsafe.
She’s worththerisk.
When Robin finishes this current set of songs, I’m going to find out what she knows and whether she’s game for drinks or more with yourstruly.
Except she beats me to it while the audience isapplauding.
I’m taking the last few gulps of my drink when she puts her mic on the bar stool that’s center stage, straightens her shoulders, and sashays right up to me. She rests her arm on the back of my chair, gives a slight nod to the guys at my table, and leans down to look me right intheeye.
“Well, if it isn’t Reid Atkinson,” shehummed.
“Hi,” I greet her without acknowledging her name. “That was a great performance. You have an incrediblevoice.”
“Thanks. You know, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but there you are, soldier. How on God’s green earthareyou?”
Her face is inches from mine, and there’s nothing but sultry sweetness in her eyes. Is that real, or is he putting onashow?
I smile. “I’m great. Looks like you’re allgrownup.”
“I sure am. How long have you been back in town? Or is this a temporary layover before your next tour with themilitary?”
“This is pretty permanent. I got back to Vegas over ayearago.”
“Oh, that’s interesting. I haven’t seen you in the oldneighborhood.”
I nod. “That’s because I live about fifteen miles west of our partoftown.”
“Very good. And work? No more armystuff?”
“No.” I motion over at my buddies. “We’re in private security these days. Our office is west ofheretoo.”
