The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)
Page 215
“Yes.”
“So . . . you read minds?”
“I do.”
“All right.” He looks around the bar and gestures to a woman with his drink. “Tell me what that woman’s saying over there.”
I look over and see an older woman who looks like she is scolding her husband as he drinks his beer. “She’s telling him that he had better hurry up and put on his compression socks before the flight and that he’s had enough. They won’t let him on the plane if he’s drunk.”
“Hmm.” He smirks as he looks around. “What about him?”
I look over to the man who is looking at his phone. “He’s googling prostitutes for his business trip.”
“And him?”
“Wondering if his wife is sleeping with her boss.”
His smile broadens. “You’re good.”
I cock my head. “I know.”
“And her?”
I look over at a girl staring at her phone with a worried look on her face.
“Googling fungal infections. She’s worried that she caught something from her wild and condomless Saturday night.”
His eyes dance in delight as he looks around the bar, and then his eyes come back to meet mine. “What about me?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Yes.”
Our eyes lock . . . shit, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be a drama queen tonight, and that is a surefire question to wind me up. I could go to town on what a jackass he’s been . . . and I will later. “Right now?” I ask.
“Yes.” His eyes are dark as he watches me.
“It’s good to see you.”
He gives me a slow, sexy smile and leans toward me. “It is.” He cups my face in his hand, and my heart stops. “Although that wasn’t all I was thinking.”
“No,” I breathe. “I know.”
He smiles as if fascinated, our faces only millimeters apart. “Why don’t you tell me what else I was thinking?” His eyes drop to my lips.
“You were wondering what the chocolate on my lips tastes like,” I whisper. How am I supposed to string two words together when he’s looking at me like that?
In slow motion, he leans in and licks my open lips. My sex clenches in appreciation.
Oh God . . .
“Are you flirting with me, Jim?” I whisper.
He licks me again. “I am. How am I doing?”
Goose bumps scatter up my spine, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”