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I'm still hard from hearing those words.
Claire glances at the clock, clearly as anxious as me to get the sexy part of our evening under way.
“Close shouldn't be too late tonight, being a Thursday and all. We should be out of here by one o'clock.”
She frowns, her eyes still locked on the clock. “One o'clock?”
I follow her gaze. It's close to eleven o'clock now, and she's probably tired after working all day. I didn't ask her to come here and help, but guilt sneaks in at the idea she's here waiting for me to finish up so we can go ahead with the evening we initially planned together.
“Why don't you head home? I'll message you when I'm done, and you can tell me if you want me to come over or not.”
Claire shakes her head. “No, I'll stay until close. Though I did bring my car, so maybe you could follow me home after we're done here?”
“Maybe,” I say, winking before moving on to serve a new customer who just came up to the bar.
Or maybe I'll just take her here and send her home afterward. God only knows how many times I've imagined her at my mercy in this bar since she turned up on Saturday night set to seduce me.
“Maybe?” Claire questions as she gets a beer from the fridge for a customer. “You mean, you're not a sure thing?”
Her tone is teasing, but I can sense her uncertainty underneath.
“I told you I have nine years of fantasies to make a dent in. One of them involves you, me, and this bar right here.” I pat the wood with my hand and watch her eyes widen and hear her breath stutter.
“Oh.”
“What do you say? Want to make another one of my fantasies come true tonight?”
“I think I could definitely be persuaded.”
Yup, I'm going to be as hard as a hammer for the rest of the night.
18
Claire
By all accounts, I should be tired. I've been up since six o'clock this morning and sleep is still a long way off. I don't feel tired, though. The anticipation I've felt since Dylan asked me to make one of his fantasies come true tonight has me walking around in a hyped-up state of arousal. I'm very aware of the slick heat growing between my thighs every time Dylan as much as smiles at me.
Now that I'm no longer delusional about my feelings for the man, I'm so affected by him it isn't funny. Then again, I've always been this affected by him. I just used to call it irritation. All that irritation, though? Definitely sexual tension.
Every touch, every smile, every teasing word we've exchanged tonight has been like foreplay.
Even now, my knees are weak, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I'm so turned on, my breasts heavy and full, my nipples hard, and the throb between my legs so demanding it takes real effort to remember there are still people in the bar, which is why I can't give in to the desire to touch myself.
When Dylan announces we're closing in fifteen minutes, I'm so on edge with excitement I'm ready to throw myself at him. My face feels flushed and I'm burning up, despite the fact it's a cold night and the bar isn't exactly crowded.
“Do you want to start loading the dishwasher again?” Dylan asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Sure.”
Anything to speed up to the time we're alone. Maybe I should be embarrassed by how desperate I sound, but there's no time for feeling ashamed. Besides, when it comes to Dylan, asking forwhat I want seems to work in my favour. He responds better when I'm honest. We only have a few months together. There's no time to play coy.
Usually, I'm the perfect date and the perfect girlfriend. I play every hand with calculation. I do everything the dating experts say I should do.
Not that it's gotten me anywhere so far.
“So, are you going to be helping us out a bit from now on?” Mike asks me as he brings in some dishes for me to put in the dishwasher.
I smile. “I don't know. I just thought I'd help out tonight. I'm not sure about anything after that.”
