Page 11 of Sweet Little Lies
“You are nothing but a persistent flirt. You know that, right?”
I shrug and shake another packet of sugar into my coffee.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just a sweet, charming guy who wants to tell a pretty woman that she’s beautiful.”
Mica whips a full sugar packet at me from across the table and it hits me in the shoulder before landing in my lap and then falling to the floor. I laugh at her aggravation and bend down to pick it up, but not before I get a glimpse of her tan silky legs under the table, her shorts riding up to show off her creamy smooth thighs.
I inhale deeply and squeeze the packet into my palm to avoid the instinctive desire to reach out and run my hand between her legs. It takes everything I have to keep my hands off her. Oh, she would be murderous if I ever did that in public.
I clear my throat and discreetly adjust myself as I sit back up, opening up the packet and dumping it into my coffee cup. I may or may not have an addiction to sugar. It’s my addictive personality. And sugar and Mica are on the top of that list. Among other things.
She fidgets uncomfortably across from me and finally sighs in capitulation.
“Fine, I’ll help you,” she says as I practically drag her across the table in a bear hug. “On one condition.”
I let her go, wondering what she’ll request, and hoping it’s sexual favors. Fuck, I’d get down underneath this booth right here and now if she wanted me to eat her out. Give her a thousand orgasms a day if that’s what she wanted.
I blink away my pornographic thoughts as she rights herself against the back of the booth. Placing her hands on the table, her fingers play with the tiny wooden mixing stick from her coffee cup.
“Anything,” I promise.
“No drinking. You need to be sober when we study. I’m not going to waste my time if you’re not going to take this seriously. Okay?”
Well shit. That’s no fun and wasn’t what I’d hoped she ask me. But knowing I need her help, I tell her the lie that that wants to hear and hope she can’t see through it. A lie that I hope I have the strength to commit to.
“I swear. Scout’s honor.”
