don’t I do this more often? My whole body feels warm and fuzzy. All the stress and strain I normally carry seem to leave my system with each drink I take.
Like always when I ignore him, he pushes himself into my space. “We have a seven o’clock meeting, and you're three sheets to the wind, Ms. Burch.” His voice is thick with irritation. Like he had to come down here and babysit me. This happens every time I stop somewhere after work and hang out for a little while. He always pops up and starts barking orders at whoever I’m with. Either that or asking me a million and one questions about his itinerary, questions he could easily find the answers to if he just opened his stupid phone and looked. A few times he would even track me down when I was having dinner, and join me without asking, just to ask me pointless questions to things he already knew!
“No, you have a meeting at seven,” I respond, correcting him. He’s not my boss anymore. Nope. Contract complete. A contract I only agreed to because the Cortez brothers asked me, and I’d do almost anything for them. They came into my life when I needed someone, and we made our own little makeshift family. We may not share blood, but they are my brothers. I worked as their assistant for six years, so when they came to me about taking up a thirty-day work contract with Mr. Townsend, I agreed. I could tell it meant something to them, and that he must have been holding something over their heads. I didn't ask and they didn't tell me. Knowing he blackmailed them only made me more pissed at the man. But it doesn't matter now. Time's up. I did my thirty days, and I’m free to go. I don’t have to play nice anymore.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where I go you go.” He’s pissed and standing so close I can feel the heat of his body behind my chair. He did make me go everywhere with him because he didn’t trust me to do anything right. He had to oversee every detail of everything I did. I look over at Tiff and roll my eyes again. But she just keeps looking between us with a shocked look on her face. I don't blame her for not jumping in; she still works here.
“Not anymore. Contract is up.” My face is smug as I turn to look into dark eyes. Something I noticed a lot of people avoid, but I don’t. He’s closer than I thought, leaning over where I sit. The high-top chair brings me to eye level with him, and I watch as his eyes drop to my mouth.
“Sugar,” I say, referring to the sugar he probably sees on my lips. I’ve been licking it off all the martinis I ordered tonight.
“Sugar?” He mimics me, pulling his eyes from my lips.
I don’t know what possesses me, maybe the underlying attraction I feel towards him, or maybe the alcohol. Hell, maybe I just want to get a rise out of him and see what he’ll do. Mostly, I know it’s because, come tomorrow, I’ll likely never see him again. Vegas is a little city at times, but I can avoid crossing paths with him. I think all those reasons combined have me pressing my lips against his.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to respond, his lips firm and unyielding against mine. But when I go to pull away with embarrassment, I feel one of his hands snake into my hair, grabbing a fistful and holding me in place as he makes the kiss his own.
It isn’t soft, not that I thought a kiss from him would be. No, everything about him is hard and forceful, just like he’s kissing me now. Taking control, he grips my hair tighter, and a moan falls from my lips, making them part for him. His tongue pushes in as he hungrily eats at my mouth. I’m so overtaken by the kiss that I’m not even sure I’m kissing him back.
Too soon, he pulls away from my lips, only to go to my neck. He trails open-mouthed kisses up my throat to my ear, like he can't get enough of me. He uses his hold on my hair to expose my neck and to take what he wants. My body seems to come to life, and a feeling washes over me