I smiled. “So you’re both a little possessive, huh? I don’t suppose she’d like what I’m thinking about doing to you, either.”
Braden ran his gaze over my face before replying. “No, she definitely wouldn’t. But, you know . . . you remind me of my wife.”
Chuckling, I pressed my leg harder against his. “Yeah, you remind me of my husband.”
Eyes glittering with laughter, Braden asked, “What would your husband do if he were here right now?”
“Well, he’s a little possessive himself, but a gentleman, so he’d be polite when he made it perfectly clear to you that I wasn’t yours to flirt with.”
“Smart man.”
“That’s what I hear.”
His laughter always made me feel like I’d won something.
I stared, relishing everything about him. Slowly, his laughter faded and we were staring at each other like we were about to start going at it right there on the bar. “Then what would he do?”
The tingling between my legs flared to life and I felt my br**sts swell against the thin material of my sundress. Shifting closer, inhaling his familiar scent, I wished we were somewhere we could do something about being this turned on.
“Jocelyn?”
I cleared my throat. “He’d probably kiss me. And then he’d insist on hearing about all the things I’m going to do to him when I get him alone.”
Braden’s eyes instantly darkened, his head descending toward mine before I could blink. His kiss was deep and hot, and I found myself clinging to him. I shivered at the feel of his hand sliding discreetly under my dress, his touch making my ni**les pebble with need. I gasped breaking our kiss.
Barely cognizant of anything around us, I drew his ear to my lips. “As soon as I get you alone,” I whispered, “I’m going to let you f**k me as hard as you want.” I then went on to elaborate until my breathing grew hitched, and the muscles in Braden’s jaw were tense.
In fact, every line of his body was. His hand was clamped tightly around my thigh. I dropped my forehead to the side of his jaw, trying to control my breathing.
After a few very long minutes, Braden’s grip on me loosened and he pulled me into a hug. I nuzzled his neck, feeling the burn of unsatisfied lust. “Sorry,” I murmured against his skin.
He stroked my back in comfort. “Don’t be. It was hot.”
“Too hot for an airport.”
I felt him shake slightly, obviously laughing. “Probably. I’ll take care of you later, though. And, hey, at least you don’t have a hard-on in public.”
My turn to laugh now. Pulling back I glanced down at his lap, hidden under the bar, to see he was not lying. Glancing up into his face I said, “Your mother. Naked.”
A look of distaste took the heat out of his eyes.
He took a swig of whiskey and eventually muttered, “Thanks.”
I looked down at his lap. The erection was gone.
Trying not to smile, I looked away casually and asked airily, “What do you want to talk about until the flight is called?”
“Cold wind. Sleet. The ugly doorman at Club 39. Porridge.”
I burst out laughing. “You mean anything that won’t give you an erection?”
He smiled at me, his eyes roaming my face lovingly. “Maybe we should just stop talking altogether. And put a bag over your head. And cover your legs.”
“Just don’t look at me.”
“I can still smell you.”
“I could move.”