When she walked into the bar, She swore she was not going to let this go on. Her long cherry wood highlighted hair was yanked up in a brutal ponytail, and her gray eyes were lined enough to be reminiscent of a raccoon. Her palms were sweating and her stomach was pulsing to the beat.
"Jaymee," not a question or a request, but her name whispered like an order.Her head swiveled around obediently and without question.
Eyes like fire, bubbling iron and copper looked at me, from a face as beautiful as it was jarring. "Sam," she said, fighting the need to glance at the ground instead of gazing up into those eyes that felt like they could swallow you whole. Well there was certainly something she wanted to swallow whole, she admitted silently, and found the falsely confident smile she'd been looking for.
Perturbed, she felt his eyes scan her and the way her small breasts more then peeked out of the top of her skin tight red dress, to the closely tailored hem of the dress that seemed far longer on the mannequin then her juicy hips.Her tan legs spread a little as he continued his search and she managed her own. Noting those broad shoulders that could hold her down, those tight abs longed to rub her fingers over, those perfect curls she longed to destroy.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. What was that, was he breathing heavy, she wondered as, she leaned against the bar praying she wouldn't slip to the floor.
She held her head up, but it was getting harder. Three months, he had only known her for three months but he had this way of making her feel like a child. Even since he'd met her at a sponsor event for the publishing house she represented, he'd left her weak in the knees and soaking with nothing to show for it.
She was twenty-four for crying out loud, but not tonight. They weren't doing this dance anymore. "Same thing as you I suspect," she purred.
A waiter approached her holding a Manhattan on a tray. "Care of the gentleman," he said, and Jaymee glanced over to see a young man with the charmed smile and pressed suit of someone who was used to high rolling. She smiled and nodded, holding up the glass. He grinned and gestured to empty seat beside him, and pouting she held up a finger.
Sipping the drink she glanced back at Sam, her cheeks rosy. "Him? Really," Sam replied, and the glint in his eyes could burn.
Taking a cherry, she twirled it before popping it between her teeth. "A girl has needs, and I'm certainly not getting them fulfilled elsewhere," she replied, and watched the blood drain from his cheeks.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He said, carefully maneuvering himself between her and the man who'd bought her drink.
She felt herself blush, but didn't look away. "If you have to ask, you're not worth my time," she replied, swiveling to move past him, but he was immediately standing right back in her path, the heat from his hand wrapped around her wrist.
"What exactly is it you want Jaymee? You want to make me jealous? Is that it?" he said, condescendingly.
She looked up at him and she didn't need him to admit that, it was written across her face. She found herself running hot. As she considered leaning forward into the body pressed before her, she then considered the idea of letting him work her up only to go home and have to take care of herself had her stepping back.
