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The low sound of her laughter drags down my back. “You sure about that,Wes?”
The moment she says my name, two thingshappen.
One, I know she doesn’t regret what happened last night, which is a huge relief I didn’t know I was waiting on untilnow.
Two, I realize I’m sitting in my office with a full-fledged hard-on, because Rena’s voice goes straight for my dick as if she knows where to findit.
Oh, wait, shedoes.
I’m going to have to stop the inner monologue making fun of my teenage students for their rampanthormones.
I clear my throat. “Listen. Do you remember calling Ben lastnight?”
“Nope.”
“Apparently, we—I—did.”
Rena gasps. “Oh my God. Vaguely. That must have been between two and three.” After my silence, she clarifies, “Back to the FutureIIandIII, Imean.”
Because we didn’t have a second round, or athird.
But now I’m thinking aboutit.
Tasting her while she moans, naked, overme.
Taking her from behind, that icy ponytail wrapped around myhand.
Sliding my dick between her parted lips. Watching her eyes change color as she sucks meoff.
“Right. Well, I told him we have a compelling testimonial and he said he’s willing to talk again. You and I should meet,” I decide. “To get the plantogether.”
“Good idea.When?”
I wait a beat. “You busynow?”
“Some client work’s kicking my ass. When I get done, I need to get something for my friend’s weddingshower.”
That’s how, thirty minutes later, instead of working on the final revisions for my paper, I’m in a bookstore inChelsea.
An interestingbookstore.
“You’re buying a gift?” Iprompt.
“For Haley.” I remember her mentioning her school friend who still lives in Philadelphia with her rock-star boyfriend.Fiancé?
I flip through a book. “This is…detailed.”
I look up to find Rena studying me. Her red dress is high at the neck and sleeveless and shows off her long legs. Her hair’s pulled back in the usual ponytail, which has a dirty part of my brain workingovertime.
But it’s the smile playing at the corner of her lips that captures myattention.
She cocks her head. “You keep looking at mymouth.”
“You aren’t wearing lipstick.” She looks surprised. “You weren’t wearing it last night either. You were at the debate. But not at myplace.”
“It was a chaotic day.” She presses those lips together, which doesn’t help myawareness.
Another patron comes down the row, and I realize we’re way too close for a normalconversation.
