Page 73 of Rafferty's Rules
What the heck. Bodies shuffle up the bench seating, seemingly in response to my body language, and I find myself seated on the edge next to him.
‘John,’ he adds by way of introduction.
‘Lissa.’
‘Listen up,’ he announces stridently, ‘this is Lissa, here in our fair city on holiday.’
‘The business of pleasure,’ one of the suits on the other side of the table adds, raising his glass. I have no choice but to tap the glass that John feeds into my hand with his. Not that I mind, he's just friendly.
A dozen conversations seem to be going on around me at once. I chime in where I’m included, though mostly sit and listen to Jon and the other suit who, no joke, is named Leopold, or Leo for short, verbally sparring. Mostly about things I don’t understand. But mostly I’m just nursing my wine and waiting for my phone to chime.
But it doesn’t. Darkness follows the sunset, the bar lit by a million tiny white fairy lights. The music becomes louder, the place busier, and I’m still nursing my wine, my fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass like it’s a lifeline.
‘Drink up,’ John scolds, leaning over me to top up my glass.
‘No, really, I’m fine.’
‘She’s waiting for her boyfriend,’ he says, though not to me as he tops up my glass anyway.
‘Aw, sweet,’ someone says.
‘Maybe your boyfriend shouldn’t leave you alone for so long,’ someone else laughingly adds. ‘Or you might get snatched up by another one.’
I don’t answer but pull out my phone again.Still no text from him.I’m just about to slip it back into my purse as John’s body suddenly presses closer to mine.
‘No word from him yet?’ His tone and position are at odds, and for the second time this evening, I’m uncomfortable.
‘He’s going to meet me outside,’ I answer quickly as I hit the button on my phone, turning the screen black. ‘I just got his message.’
The hitch in his brow tells me he knows I’m lying but seems to play along anyway.
‘It’s kind of busy here. I’ll walk you out.’
Is he calling my bluff, or is this something else? It’s a question I find I don’t have to guess an answer for as I look up, then follow the line of his frowning sight.
Through the crowds of early weekend starters, office types, and tourists, I spot Rafferty as he confidently strides through the bar. His gaze swings left and right, his attention so focussed, his demeanour so masculine. The crowd seems to part to make way for him, heads turning to stare. He’s changed outfits since this morning, a blue shirt for a white one, dark pants for jeans. But it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing or that he’s handsome enough to be a model or TV celebrity because the attention he’s garnering has more to do with his air. His vibe. It’s hard to quantify, but there’s just something about him.
How can it be that I want him more each time I see him?
His gaze alights on me, his expression morphing, tension dropping away. As he moves, he watches me like he’s hungry, like he’s planning on eating me for dinner, and dessert. At least, until he notices the man next to me. The smoulder becomes a glower, and my excitement suddenly becomes a flock of butterflies.
All the butterflies, currently flitting around in my panties.
As he reaches the table, I don’t know what to do with my hands. And should I stand, or should I remain in my seat? So many conflicting thoughts and messages, my nerve endings going haywire, synapsis beginning to misfire.
As his hand grasps the back of the bench, I feel John move out of my space right before I feel the press of Rafferty’s lips to my cheek. His free hand cups my face, his mouth capturing mine in the kind of kiss that speaks of possession. Of ownership.
If I weren’t wholly lost in his attention, I might realise the table has fallen quiet. I might also anticipate his lips pulling gradually from mine. My whole body moves with his, desperate to keep the connection, everything south of my waistline tightening and clenching.
‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.’ My words are breathy with exhilaration... and they’re sort of a challenge.
‘I can see that.’ His eyes cut to John, though I refuse to let mine follow. Suddenly, my hand is in his, and he’s pulling me out of my chair. ‘And I don’t like where you’re sitting.’
Chapter 21
RAFFERTY
I am behaving like a monumental prick.
