“At the bar?”
“In his suite.”
“MA’AM.”
“It was innocent!”
I lean in. “Define innocent.”
Maya is looking away, trying to avoid eye contact. After a beat, she mumbles, “He walked me to my car.”
“Did he kiss you?”
A pause.
“Maya.”
“Yes.”
I slap the table. “Maya Justine Torres.”
“Shhh!” she whisper-screams.
“Was it good?”
“It was… really good. Like,insanelygood.”
“I knew it. He looks like he’d be aphenomenalkisser. Describe it. Slowly.”
There’s a wicked little grin tugging at her lips. “He smells like whiskey and rain. Tastes like it too.”
“Dear God,” I say.
“And his hands,” she breathes. “Big. Warm. Just rough enough.”
I fan myself. “Did he do the thing?”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I know exactly what she’s about to say. She nods. “He did the thing.”
I squeal.
“His hand. My jaw. Thumb tracing my skin.”
“Awe.”
“A deep kiss followed by the slow draw back, lingering long enough to make me lose my mind.” Maya is swooning as she describes the intimate moment.“Mmmm…it was…perfection.”
“What happened after?”
“He sent me home.”
I blink. “That’s it?”
“I know!” she cries. “What if it was one moment only, and now it’s over?”
“Did you text him?”
“No.”
