Chapter 4 #2
“So wait, wait,” Wells said, laughing, as Allison sipped her second cocktail. They’d moved to a cozy booth away from the loud bar. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.
Wells moved closer so they were cuddled together in the booth, his arm behind her head.
A magnetic attraction to him had taken hold of her. Like she had to keep her body in check so she didn’t climb into his lap. Her eyes tracked his every movement, felt a counter-movement in her own from some clawing craving inside.
Wells looked at her skeptically. “This guy on an app said he was six feet one, and then when he picked you up, he said you were wrong?”
“Yes!” she said, her hand slamming the table, and Wells chuckled. “He said every ruler I had ever come into contact with must be wrong. I must be six-four.”
“Did he ask for uppies afterwards?”
Allison burst out laughing.
Wells sat facing her in the booth, jostling a lowball glass of whiskey, and looked pleased with himself at having made her laugh.
Allison sighed, shaking her head at herself. “I know it’s silly and guys are attractive at any height.”
“As are women,” Wells said, nodding toward her.
She nodded back in appreciation. “But it’s a me thing. It’s so hard for me to be comfortable with a guy who is smaller. I’ve always felt like this gargantuan godzilla. I mean, I was five-ten in fifth grade.”
Wells sucked in a breath.
“And uncoordinated—I couldn’t even play basketball, the one thing everybody wants tall girls to do.
I want to feel good if I’m with somebody else.
It doesn’t have anything to do with them.
I’m sure the not six-one—probably five-nine guy—was lovely.
But I’ve felt so conspicuous my whole life.
So used to everybody staring that sometimes I just want to blend in, you know? ”
Wells stared down at her warmly. The angle of his head was met with her counter-move, angling closer to him. “I don’t think you’ll ever blend in,” he said slowly, his eyes focused on her lips.
“No?”
“No.” His arm behind her head moved so that his thumb slowly grazed her shoulder affectionately. The small movement felt like a thundercrack in her body. “Not with those lips and those eyes and these hands.”
He traced her long fingers, a few rings placed artfully on them.
The simple touch of his large fingers stroking the underside of hers shivered through her and made her heart slam against her chest.
The visual was mesmerizing. She wanted to kiss him, taste the whiskey on his lips.
Have her first kiss in fifteen years with a man who wasn’t her soon-to-be-ex.
This is where you suggest he come back to your hotel.
No, wait. Is that too weird?
Maybe it’s too forward.
Maybe he doesn’t even like you.
He would have kissed you by now since your fingers are having finger sex.
Maybe you’re misinterpreting everything—
“Hey, where’d you go?” he said, catching her eye with a look of concern.
Allison froze.
Whoa.
“Sorry.” Pivot back to him. Make sure he’s having a good time. “Got a little in my head.”
Wells looked like he was trying to trace what went wrong. “No need to apologize. Are you having a good time? Is this too much?”
This is…unusual.
He…noticed things?
To hell with it.
She downed the rest of her mojito and squeezed her eyes closed with embarrassment.
“That was more than fine, and I’m very bad at this, and I can’t tell if you’re into me or if we’re just being friends, and I’m trying not to get my hopes up, because you’re hot and wow, that last gulp of cocktail was stronger than I realized.
” Her hand covered her mouth to keep it from running away.
He looked delighted when she opened one eye, staring at him.
He filled a water glass. “You’re not very bad at this, and I am very into you. I don’t want to be your friend, thank you, you’re hot too, and”—he handed the glass to her—“you should probably get your hopes up.”
She smiled as she drank the cool water to calm her flushed cheeks.
A rock song crashed through the speakers behind their booth, and they both jumped. She hadn’t even noticed a band had set up across the bar.
“Come on!” he yelled, tugging her out of the booth.
She grabbed her wristlet she’d stuffed all her things into. Cool girls had small purses. They didn’t have giant mom-style bags with knitting in them so they felt less socially awkward.
Wells tugged her through the bar, and she let her fingers interlace with his, feeling proud and feminine and warm all over that she’d done it. She’d found somebody who liked her, maybe enough to kiss her, maybe enough to even have a one-night stand.
They navigated through the throng of people until they slipped into the back hallway.
“So,” Wells spoke into her ear over the music. “Read any—” The rest of it was lost after the house band screamed out a Dropkick Murphy song.
Allison laughed, shaking her head. “What?” she yelled back into his ears, leaning up on her tiptoes. A refreshing experience.
Her cheek brushed his stubble.
A thrilling experience. He smelled so good. Expensive cologne and some cedar undertone that made her skin goosebump-y.
“I said”—he pulled her closer—“bring any earplugs?”
She tossed her head back with laughter, nearly bumping into somebody trying to get into the restroom.
A server came through with a large tray.
“Oop.” Allison had nowhere else to go other than into Wells’s space. He pulled her toward him, his hand anchoring on her waist.
Her hands landed on his chest to steady herself, her nose practically at his throat.
She swallowed.
She didn’t even know this man. But she wanted his lips on hers. He looked down at her, their mouths an inch apart.
His hand tightened on her waist, and she sucked in a hopeful breath.
“Not here,” he said, almost to himself.
“What’s wrong with here?” she said in a dreamy state, mesmerized by his lips.
He slowly smirked and leaned into her ear. “I’m not having our first kiss in a hallway that smells like dishwasher backwash.”
First kiss?
As in, he’s already thinking about more?
He dragged her deeper into the restaurant, slamming open the door to the kitchen as his name was shouted out by the staff in greeting. For the first time in a long time, she finally didn’t have to initiate. Wells was doing it and making her feel like a ragdoll in the process.
Just once, she wanted to be manhandled. Literally.
“You know them?” she said, tripping along in her heels to keep up as he tugged her behind him.
“Used to work here. Still help them out sometimes.”
Was he a bartender? They hadn’t even talked about work yet.
He shoved open the back door to an area that said Employees Only.
String lights criss-crossed the small, fenced space. Old picnic tables sat empty under the stars. The chilly spring night was clear, and fragrant wisteria bloomed along a brick wall, intermixed with climbing ivy.
Wells tugged her through and backed her against the brick wall. “This okay?” he panted. His hand was heavy on her hip, anchoring her.
Which is good, otherwise I’d flutter away from nerves.
“Yes,” she whispered, staring at the sexy, rounded chest in front of her.
He leaned over her, arm against the brick wall as the scents of wisteria and cologne intermingled around her.
Try to be a cool kisser. Don’t get too intense. Don’t be awkward.
Her heartbeat was a thunderstorm in her ears.
“You seem nervous,” Wells said quietly, still inches from her face.
Oh no. “I’m…just not very good at this. So, um, sorry in advance.”
You’re ruining it. He’s going to change his mind.
He chuckled. “Not good at kissing?” His head dipped to her jaw, and the graze of his stubble against her cheek made her heart kick into overdrive.
A soft kiss landed slowly on her neck and felt like silk unwinding inside of her.
She sucked in a breath. “Kissing, m—”
His teeth grazed her earlobe, and his hand anchored her waist to the wall as sparks of need flew from her ear to her pussy. “Oh my. M—making out. Being…” Her thoughts stumbled as pleasure flooded her brain. “Sexy.”
“That’s fine,” he whispered, kissing her jaw, her neck, and she curved into him. “I can do this all night.” He stroked her waist, grazing his teeth against the crook of her neck in slow, agonizing kisses.
She whimpered, aching for the hand on her waist to move to her breast. She forgot to be cool, to not be too intense.
She arched into him, her hands squeezing the thick arms she’d eyed all night, molding her body to his.
And all the while, he slowly kissed her neck inch by inch, the grazing stubble of his chin creating sparks in every pulse point.
His hand wrapped around her waist, squeezing her closer. Yes. He moved a half inch down, repeating his kissing graze on her shoulder.
Would she have to beg him to kiss her on the mouth?
I’d beg for him to keep doing anything.
Her leg wrapped around his calf, dragging him closer as her hand slid into his hair. He groaned into her neck.
He pulled back, breathing hard as he stared at her lips. “You are fan-fucking-tastic at being sexy.”
The praise ignited a fire in her. I’m sexy. Not too much. She tugged him closer with her leg.
With a needy, breathy growl, his hand came to her jaw, and his lips pinned hers. She drank it down, savoring the slow slide of his lips against hers.
Whimpered as he angled her head to take more, and more.
It was slow, purposeful. Thorough.
A firm and possessive invasion of her senses as his free hand slid to her ass. The second his hand squeezed it, she let loose the desire she’d kept at bay.
Tugging his head closer, she let herself go.
Her teeth raked against his lip, kissing him back harder. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and she met him move for move.
The whiskey on his tongue as it darted into her mouth made her feel drunk with lust.
She felt wanted.
Desire pulsed low and insistent, begging her to open her legs. Begging her to keep going, keep tasting the whiskey and cedar as they kissed. The hot, heady feel of his mouth against hers, his desire pressing against her thigh.
He’s hard for me.
Need and heat ratcheted up as their kisses became faster, hungrier. More, more, more, please. She was gulping water in a fifteen year seduction desert.
It had been so long. She’d forgotten kisses could feel thrilling. Electrifying.
His tongue touched hers in a hungry open-mouthed kiss and she moaned.
Orgasmic.
She leaned into him. Please. Please touch me, her body begged.
They panted through hungry kisses, pressed against each other. His hand slid from her hip to her breast, and she could have cried at how perfect it felt. Not tentative, and wholly possessive.
Mine, it said.
Allison slid her hand over his to keep it there, squeezing her tit with his hand again and again. Wanton, needy.
He ripped away from her mouth. “Fuck. I think,” he panted against her skin, then pulled back with intense, confused eyes. “You are vastly misinformed about your abilities.”
A laugh tumbled out of her that was pure joy. Tonight, I’m sexy.
She pulled him down for another kiss, and another.
He pulled back with wild, wary eyes. “Can I have your number?” he said, catching his breath. Then he kissed her quickly again like he needed another sip.
And another. They couldn’t last three seconds without one of them caving, needing another taste.
Allison gauged the situation. This was the perfect opportunity. He seems like a nice guy.
And so hot. Beefy arms, a comfortable, soft middle.
She wanted him.
And she’d bet her life that he wanted her too.
She smiled slowly. “407.”
“What area code is that?”
Allison shook her head, feeling coquettish and flirty for the first time in her whole life.
“407,” she whispered into his ear, tightening her leg around his, “is my room number.”