Page 124 of The Fine Line
“Well, looky there,” she purrs. “You remembered.”
I blink. “I…did?”
“Mhmm.” She takes a long sip. “We bonded over gin last year, remember? Said it brought out our freaky sides.” She licks her lips slowly, dragging a finger down my chest.
Sudden clarity hits—her mouth on me, her voice echoing off tile in the men’s restroom at last year’s gala.
I grip her wrist and pull her hand away as I walk us back a few steps, trying to keep us from drawing eyes.
“Sorry,” I say firmly. “You’ve got it wrong. A lot has changed.”
I flash my ring. “I’m married now.”
She laughs. “So are half the men I sleepwith.”
Jesus.
“Last year was...” I shake my head. “I appreciated it then. But I’m not interested now.”
She leans in, her voice low and laced with mischief. “Really? Because your body’s telling me something different.” Her gaze flicks down to where my hand is still gripping her wrist.
I stop. Let go of her completely.
“Clearly, it stuck with you,” she says, smiling.
“Darlin’,” I shake my head, “I don’t even remember your name.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She winds an arm around my neck, leaning in, her breath warm against my ear. “Because clearly you remember where I was screaming yours.”
“What do you?—”
The words die when I glance up and realize we’ve stopped just outside the men’s restroom.
“N–no,” I stammer. “That’s not?—”
I cut off with a sharp hiss as she bites down on my earlobe. My body jolts, instinctively stumbling forward. My palm slaps against the wall to catch myself, but she stumbles with me, her other arm wrapping around my neck for balance. Now we’re chest-to-chest, my hand braced beside her head, her leg nudging between mine.
“No,” I grit, jaw locked tight as I slide both hands to her waist and try to put space between us. “Enough.”
I push off the wall and turn—and that’s when I see her.
Caroline.
Standing in the doorway of the women’s restroom, just a few feet away.
Frozen. Watching.
Her eyes move from the girl’s arms around me to my hand still hovering near her hip. Then to the martini glass clutched in the blonde’s hand. Then back to me.
I hold up my hands, panicked. “Cub, I can explain?—”
“What are you doing?” she asks, low and sharp.
“I… I was getting you a drink.”
Her eyes drop to the martini in the woman’s hand. Something flashes across her face before she lifts her icy gaze to mine. “A decent attempt for you, I guess.”
“Baby, I?—”
