“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Your brother was insistent you’d want it to drown your - sugar cubes! I mean, to take back to your villa.”
“Then you should keep it on ice until the end of your shift and share it with my brother,” Jenna says.
“Great idea!” I agree.
“Err, okay, although I’m not sure that’s allowed,” Lionel stutters and I resist the urge to give him a big reassuring hug.
“Please just tell my brother that Marty showed up, so there’s no need for me to go drown my sorrows tonight and I therefore insist he drowns his instead. With you.” Jenna leans towards Lionel, her back arching in a way that drags my eyes down to her butt.
“Okey dokey,” Lionel says and there’s a hint of excitement shimmering in his eyes as he turns away from us. “Have a nice evening!”
“Fuck me, he’s too cute,” I say after he’s gone.
“The sweetest man. I sort of hope he and my brother discover they like each other.”
“Get in there, Sweet Cheeks,” I say.
“Did you just call my brother Sweet Cheeks?”
“Yes, and I stand by it.”
“Why do I feel like...” she begins but I stop her.
I stop her by coming in close, sliding my hand along the side of her neck, tipping her chin up and pressing my lips to hers.
And then I freeze. My lips stuck on hers, unmoving, I’m suddenly terrified I’ve forgotten how to do this. How do I kiss sober? How do I make it special for her? How do I make this more than all the drunken snogs and clumsy fumbles I can barely remember?
As if she can read my mind, she takes over, bringing her hands to cup my face, and lifting her lips a little before placing them back down on one corner of my mouth. It’s an almost innocent but plush peck - like a blessing – and after an achingly long second or two she does the same in the other corner. As if that was the key I needed to unlock something, my mouth falls open and I place her lush upper lip between my own, resisting the urge to immediately nip it with my teeth because of how full and plump it feels. I so badly want to open my eyes and watch her kiss me - to watch her closed eyelids and get a close-up on her sweet pink lips becoming moist from mine - but I daren't risk letting any other senses in. I want touch and taste to get all my attention, and they do as she brings the tip of her tongue out to lick my bottom lip as if asking for permission, for more.
I see now that the last one hundred or so kisses I had were rushed and senseless, they were a means to an end, they were a necessary starter before the main course. This kiss, this delicious slow kiss, feels like a 5-course meal with wine pairing, and our tongues haven’t even touched yet.
She hums when I release her lip and gives me a soft grunt when I find her tongue for a quick battle, only to pull away a second later. She breathes out a moan when I then suck in her bottom lip.
“Jesus,” I say, pulling back a centimetre or two to catch my breath.
“Don't stop,” she says, and her hands slide down my neck and come to rest on my chest, grabbing at the material of my T-shirt and pulling my body closer.
It's a miracle we only kiss, but that's all we do sitting there in a dark corner of a bar at dusk. Even though my whole body - all of it - wants to touch hers and even though it feels like what our tongues are doing is obscene enough by itself, all we do is kiss. It's only when I feel an ache in my back from stretching so far towardsher that I think I should pull away, but I don't want to. I still don't want it to stop. In the end, she decides for me.
“I have a question for you now,” she asks when she pulls back an inch, her forehead resting on mine. She’s breathing heavily when I look down and see her mouth looks different - her lips plumper and pinker, their edges red from my day-old stubble. If she wasn't putting her hand up to her lips as if to check them, I would just dive straight back in.
“Go ahead,” I say. She could ask me anything and I'd tell her everything.
“Can we skip dinner? Or maybe...” She rubs her nose against the tip of mine. “We can order room service to my villa? Later.”
“Later?” I ask.
“Yes, after,” she explains, still breathless.
“After?” I question.
“After,” Jenna confirms.
“Okay,” I say, processing.
“Okay?” she checks.
“Okay,” I say, agreeing.
