Page 50 of Kiss and Make Love

“And then you’ll take all of me.”

His fingers drive deeper into me, and I buck my hips in his grasp. That wicked smile is back on his face, only an inch from mine, and damn if I don’t love it.

“Tell me you want that, little star.”

“I want that.” No hesitation because one hundred percent I want that. I want him everywhere, all the time.

“That’s what I thought.” He kisses me one last time and pulls his fingers from me. Losing his touch is immediate, and I ache to be full again, even though we were together moments ago. I close my eyes to gather myself, breathing through the last fleeting feelings of his touch.

“Georgia?”

I hear my name, but I’m lost in the thought of him.

“Georgia?”

Again, I hear him call my name, and it pulls me back to the present. My eyes shoot open in response and I find him standing by my table in the corner, looking down at my empty cup, then back to me.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Marco’s smooth voice rolls over me, and my cheeks flush with heat. Shaking myself out of my incredibly detailed reverie, I gather my wits so I can reply as coherently as possible.

“Yeah, actually. A chai latte would be great.”

“Sure you don’t want another London Fog?” he inquires, smirking at me.

He remembers my order. I know it’s ridiculous, but the fact that he thinks of me enough to remember what I like to drink has butterflies dancing in my stomach.

“I thought one was enough for today. Figured I’d try something new,” I shrug, doing my best to seem nonchalant. I’m pretty sure I’m failing horribly, though, because my face is burning thanks to my little daydream, and I’m squirming under Marco’s gaze, sure he can see how turned on I am. I need to get out of here.

“Actually, can I get it to go?” I add, before Marco turns to go ready my order.

“Not staying till lunch today?”

I shake my head. “I’m going to take off.”

“Okay,” he nods, heading toward the counter. “I’ll be right back with it.”

While Marco makes my drink, I grab my notes and computer and shove them into my bag. This would be a great time for an enormous glass of ice water to help cool me down from the inside out. Why did I order another hot drink? Why did I order another drink at all?

Gosh, I rarely let myself run away with my fantasies like that. At least not in public. At home is another story.

I head to the counter so I don’t have to stay here any longer than necessary. My face is still hot, and I’m sweating behind my knees. With no chance of Marco taking me into the backroom, my battery-operated boyfriend will have to do.

Marco heads to the register, and I pull out my credit card, eager to pay, get out of here, and take care of myself. He gestures at me, shaking his head at the card.

“It’s on the house.” He says, handing me my to-go cup. I swear he winks at me, but it’s so quick, I can’t be sure.

My fantasy has me too riled up to think straight. I thank him and head toward the door, eager to get some distance from his freakishly good-looking face.

“See you soon!” he calls out right before the door closes behind me. I manage a wave through the front window in his direction.

I sip at the latte, speed-walking toward my car. Something strange is on the side of the cup. It doesn’t look right. I pause at my car door and read the writing.

Call me. Let’s get together before next Saturday. 458-9837.

The cup slips from my hands and crashes to the street, spilling everywhere. I grapple with it and get it picked up, shaking off the drips of liquid on the outside. Shit. Did anyone see that ridiculous fumble? Thank God I’m out of view of the café.

Staring at the cup, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Marco’s number. His phone number. MARCO’S FREAKIN’ PHONE NUMBER.

---