Page 64 of Cockpit
Kiss me.
“I don’t care what people think. I haven’t for a long time.”
Kiss me.
“I know, but keeping my job is kind of important.”
His eyes are unrelenting as desire swims in them plain as day, and he nods in acknowledgment.
Kiss me.
“For the record, Princess. It is a bad idea . . . but it doesn’t make me want you any less.”
Then take me.
But all I do is gasp a quick intake of breath as his hands leave my skin.
He takes a step back.
“Figure out how you’re going to hide what’s between us in this nosy little town.”
And he turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me staring after him and wanting him so bad it hurts.
“Is there a reason you keep looking up to that window,” Grant asks as he lifts his beer toward the offices of Modern Family.
“No reason.” I shrug off the comment with a long tug on my beer.
The air is thick with the scents of hay and cotton candy and fried food. Main Street is so crowded you can barely move, and thank fuck Grady found the three of us a table to sit at while the women took the kids to the carnival end for a bit.
“Then where’d you disappear to?” Grady asks with a smirk that tells me he damn well knows. Considering he was the one standing next to me when Rissa told me Sidney was still up there working, I would have thought it was obvious anyway.
“To the john.”
“I have a feeling you were whipping your dick out, all right, but it wasn’t to take a piss,” Grady continues.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” I ask. His shit-eating grin is enough for me to want to punch him just to knock it off his lips.
“Not a chance in hell. Oh look,” he says and lifts his chin to two ladies standing on the outskirts of the seating area, “another set of ladies trolling by to see if you’re going to take their bait.” I roll my eyes at him. “When I was at the bar buying your beer, Uley said they’re getting, like, fifty calls a day at dispatch from women looking for you.”
“Pussy for days,” Grant says, trying not to laugh but unable to quite hold it back.
“You should thank us,” Grady says. “We did that for you.”
“Jesus.” I shake my head and take another sip of my beer.
“I don’t think he cares about the bait, Grady. Not here. Not there. Not anywhere,” he mocks, prompting me to hold up my middle finger. “I think he has his eye on someone else.”
Images of Sidney in that tight black shirt she had on with a silky little camisole fill my mind. High heels and long legs. Hitched breaths and hard nipples.
I shift in my seat. “I care, all right,” I murmur.
I should have kissed her. There’s no doubt about that. The problem is that there would have been no stopping me once I started. Luke was waiting, and she said no, and fuck if the timing wasn’t right, so I didn’t.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.
“Seems to me like someone isn’t bitching about being in the contest anymore . . . Now, why would that be?” I eye Grant across the table and know where he’s going with this and refuse to give him the ammunition to prove his point.
“And?” I draw the word out.
