Double D’s smile drops, and she throws herself back in her chair, allowing me to continue to be sickeningly sweet to Heather for as long as she’ll tolerate it. And she does tolerate it well. Tiny touches, and whispers, my hand linked with hers. In fact, she appears to be lapping it up. And speaking of laps, there comes a point when, for the sake of blood flow, I have to adjust exactly where Heather is sitting.
‘Want another drink?’ More nuzzling. More whispers in her ear.
‘Hmm.’ That vibration? It does nothing for my blood flow but sends my mind to another place. Smutty places. ‘I think that would be lovely.’
‘Vodka?’ With a jiggle of my leg, I work her a little way closer to my knee. ‘Or how about an organic, micro brewed beer?’ I cock a brow as I repeat some variation of the conversation going on at the other end of the couch.
Heather laughs, that velvety bedroom sound. ‘I think I’ll stick with vodka, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Has anyone ever told you your laugh is dirtier than the office microwave?’ She laughs harder, this time throwing back her head. ‘I’m serious. If you ever need a side gig you could kill it on a telephone sex line.’
‘Do they even have those anymore?’
‘I don’t know. You could revive the industry alone.’
‘You are a terrible tease,’ she murmurs, her gaze dipping from my face for a beat. And rising just as quick. ‘What?’ Her features freeze, presumably as she catches herself from asking what she was about to ask. It also looks like her finger was about to point out my hard-on. ‘And I’m the one with the dirty laugh.’ She swats at my chest ineffectually when I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips.
‘A dirty laugh and a dirty tease.’
‘An inadvertent tease,’ she corrects full of faux indignation, which doesn’t help the blush she’s already wearing. ‘Wait,’ she says, drawing closer, her already quiet voice turning to a whisper. ‘You’re really going to the bar like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Archer, stop. You look like you’ve got a bolster pillow stuffed in your pants.’
At this, it’s my turn to throw my head back and laugh.
‘Stop it. You’re making people look, and you can’t climb over this lot—you might poke an eye out!’
‘Haven’t you heard? It pays to advertise.’
For the sake of my modesty, we settle on going together, Heather first, my arms wrapped around her and my body glued to hers. It does nothing for the situation, but I’m not complaining, and I can only laugh as she addresses Haydn once we reach his end of the couch.
‘I’m so glad I came, Archer. I’m having so much fun.’ Her smile drops as she turns to Haydn. ‘Even ifyou’rehere.’
Haydn’s gaze narrows, though he doesn’t speak.
‘Babe, remember he’s your boss.’ I chuckle, sliding my arm around her shoulders when she surprises me, taking it one step farther by snuggling in.
‘Not right now, he isn’t,’ she says sweetly.
I pull back a little to better see her face. ‘I suppose you’re right. You’re not at work now.’
‘Besides,’ she murmurs, walking her fingertips provocatively up my chest, ‘out of hours, that position is filled by you.’ As an encore, she taps her index finger against my bottom lip. ‘How did I get so lucky?’ She sighs, her head turning to glower at Haydn. ‘Out of hours at least.’
I realise now that she’s tipsy. It was bound to happen.
Nerves + alcohol + picking at her food.
I’d been there myself plenty of times at these kinds of occasions, and woken up once or twice with someone I shouldn’t have. But this isn’t me, this is Heather. And who she’d be waking up with would be me. I can’t say the thought is rejected outright from my brain—I’m a man, after all. And while at the start of the day there’d be a certain kind of satisfaction in getting one over her, or into her, right now I’m not interested in playing that game. Because it stops being blackmail when you want to do it.
Doesn’t it?
14
Heather
Archerand I part ways at the bar, and I head to theladies’ room. I’d been having so much fun I didn’t realise I needed to pee quite so desperately. How he’d managed to completely distract me from being amongst those familiar yet unfriendly faces for so long, I don’t know. I didn’t once feel the pull of bolting, figuratively heading for the hills, and I didn’t once reach for my phone to bury my attention in because Archer kept me grounded.
