She slides onto the stool at my side, and I wait a minute before turning towards her. When I do, I take another sip of scotch and wait for her to speak.
“Sharing is caring,” she whispers, glancing down through hooded lashes at the glass in my hand. A sultry stare graces her face. She licks her lips, never taking her eyes off my glass as she leans closer. “Rex, it pains me to admit it, but I would love to feel your warm liquid running down the back of my throat.”
Fucking shit, is she for real?
My eyes widen as I try to regain some sanity after the way she just figuratively knocked me off my stool with her comment. I try to hide my shocked expression, but she laughs knowingly, and grabs the glass from my hand.
When her fingers brush against mine, the same spark I felt for her all those years ago ignites between us. To be honest, it never left. Over the years since we were together, she’s always tried to play innocent and cool, but behind the wall she’s put up, I’ve always seen the truth.
She wants me just as bad as I’ve always needed her.
“Bartender,” I shout, motioning over the slightly irritated guy from earlier. Gwen finishes my drink. “The lady will have…”
“The same,” she smiles, licking her lips and then running her finger across the rim of the glass. Bringing her finger to her lips, she rolls her tongue around the tip and sucks it into her mouth.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her mouth wrapped around my cock like that.
I raise my glass once she hands it back, motioning I will have one of the same. The bartender slides Gwen her drink. He fills mine reluctantly, updates my tab, and then turns to leave.
“Well, it looks like we’re family now,” Gwen says. “I’m sure Noah and Eva are somewhere over the Atlantic on their way to Italy right about now. It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it?” she asks, but my mind is still on her tongue, and the tricks she could have learned over the years that I now have the overwhelming need to experience.
“I guess. If a winter wedding is what you want. They couldn’t have waited for warmer weather, could they?”
Gwen slumps in the chair next to me.
“Don’t I know it,” she sighs, “I have to get home for an early meeting tomorrow, and it looks like most of the flights are delayed or canceled. Damn snow. Damn Kentucky.”
I chuckle into my glass as I take another sip. “I know the feeling. Michael called an early meeting tomorrow, too. The bastard left right after the ceremony for an early flight, mumbling something about finalizing some things before we meet with more prospective partners.”
I look at the teleprompter in front of us and see my flight is still on time. Actually, it should start boarding in the next ten minutes. If I want to make it, this encounter is going to be cut shorter than I wish.
“I hate airports,” Gwen whispers. “I hate flying. Hell, I wonder how they can even take off with all this snow? Not that it looks like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. I’m probably stuck here all night.”
She fidgets in her seat. Together, we glance up at the T.V. in front of us and get lost for a few minutes in the show on the screen. The closeness of her makes it hard to concentrate. Always has. Always will.
All I’ve wanted to do for ten years is climb this damn wall we’ve built between us and break through the shitty past we created when we were young and stupid.
After another minute, she rests her hand a little closer to my right, and I fight the urge to grab it and hold on to it like a damn lovesick puppy.
It’s been a long time since we sat this close and she wasn’t figuratively and sometimes physically throwing daggers my way.
I glance at the teleprompter again and notice my flight is boarding.
“What flight do you have?” I ask.
“I was on the 10:30 to Santa Ana,” she pauses, and my hand twitches with the need to brush up against hers. “But the flight has been canceled.”
We sit in silence a moment longer. Would Michael kill me if I didn’t attend the meeting he strictly told me not to miss? It wouldn’t be the first time I was M.I.A.
I try to process the decision I’m subconsciously making as I look up at the teleprompter again. Shit, I’m about out of time. If I’m going to make my flight, I better drop all the stupid thoughts and run like hell to my gate.
She moves her hand a little closer.
“When is your flight?” she asks, innocently.
Fuck. Either way, I’m a dead man. I might as well surrender now.
“Mine was canceled, too,” I lie, quickly linking my pinky with hers on the counter. Her breathing quickens.
