Page 46 of One Hotlanta Night
Shit. I yank my sweats back up and set her down, then take the pan off the burner right before it turns into charred sticks. I quickly transfer the bacon safely to a paper-towel lined plate, then wash my hands.
Vivan sips her coffee, but her flushed face and wild eyes belie her efforts to calm herself down. I gently pry the mug from her hands and set it down. “Hey! I wasn’t done with that,” she protests.
“I wasn’t done with you yet.” I capture her mouth with a kiss so penetrating she’ll feel it into next week. My chest crushes against her as I walk her backward to the couch, our mouths hot and hungry. “Want you now. Need you now, mi amor,” I rasp, ripping my shirt off her body. As much as I like seeing her in my stuff, I need her naked. Need to be as close to her as possible. I want to live inside her forever.
She arches up, seeking my skin as much as I seek hers. She wants this just as badly. She wantsme. Laying her back on the couch, I jerk my sweats down just enough to align our bodies. My hand works its way in between us, lining us up where she’s still wet from her morning kiss. Shifting my weight to cover her body, I drop down in between her legs and proceed to claim my woman all over again.
“I really need to get going,” she says as I press my forehead against hers. After the most wonderful night of my life, I knew those words were coming.
“I know.” I plant a kiss to the top of her head. We finally did get around to eating breakfast, albeit hours later. Now we’re standing outside my townhome, and I’ve got Vivian sandwiched between me and her car, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. My hands run up and down the length of her arms, her muscles toned and skin silky. We’ve been out here trying to say goodbye for half an hour now, and even the mosquitos buzzing around can’t separate us any sooner.
Searching her eyes, all I see is warmth and satisfaction. And I’m praying it’s not just from the mind-blowing sex. She did say she had feelings for me too, so I hope she feels a fraction of what I do for her. It would be enough.
Her hands curl into the hair at the back of my neck, pulling my lips to hers and desperately sliding her tongue against mine like she can’t get close enough, deep enough. It stokes the fire within me that’s burning any time she’s around, but this feels more like seeking connection. A need to keep what’s developing between us going. I wind my fingers through her hair as I hold her steady, communicating all my love and devotion in the kiss since she’s not ready for the words. Her chest is plastered against mine, and I can’t tell where her rapidly beating heart starts and mine ends.
Vivian’s lips break away from mine, gasping for air, and I shudder as I drop my head in my new favorite spot between her neck and shoulder. My breath is ragged as I inhale her sweet scent. Everything about this woman is intoxicating. “My love, my love, what are you doing to me?” I drag out along her neck. I’m not sure if she even heard the words. But as she looks up from under her lush lashes, the clarity in her eyes assures me she did. Will she freak out again?
She shakily blows out a breath before meeting my eyes. “Making sure you don't forget about me?” she says teasingly, her voice shaky but her fierce gaze pinning me to the spot.
“Not a chance in hell,” I tell her, bringing a hand up to cup her jaw. “You’re the only one for me.” I grip her face harder, almost to the point of bruising. “You’re mine,” I rasp, taking her mouth captive and kissing her back just as roughly as she had devoured me moments before. A faint taste of blood hits along my bottom lip, and I soften the kiss, not sure if it’s hers or mine. I want her to feel the depths of my passion for her but never want to cause her pain. She sighs into my mouth as she wrenches her lips away and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Claire is gonna kill me if I’m late,” she admits, and I know it’s time to let her go. For now, anyway. Until I can get her back into my arms, and my bed, and our home. Because this is exactly where she belongs. I’ve been looking for this woman for a very long time, and now that I’ve got her, I’m not letting her go.
I step back, smoothing her hair back into the messy bun she’d pulled it into, and tucking a flyway strand behind her ear. “Call me when you get off,” I tell her as I open her car door.
“It’ll be late,” she warns as she settles into the driver’s seat. Before she can reach up for her seat belt, I grab it and fasten it across her waist. It clicks into place just like my heart did when I saw her.
“I don’t care. I want to tell you goodnight, mi amor,” I say as I brush a kiss against her lips. “Drive safe.”
Vivian
that night
The Pork Belly is just as crazy and chaotic as you would expect for a Saturday night. We’re all flying around the restaurant, wishing for rollerblades—or clones—to make it through the weekend rush. Derrick has been slinging drinks and managing the bar seating area like a pro, while Sheila’s been serving more tables than should be humanly possible. Thankfully, the guests are charmed by her sweet mothering and gentle jokes, and we haven’t had any complaints tonight about how long the wait is as long as the food comes out hot.
It isn’t until all the closing duties are done and the skeleton crew we’ve been running have gone home for the night that I have a chance to sit down with Claire. Finding her in her tiny cramped office hunched over her paper-strewn desk, she doesn’t stir when I lightly knock on the door.
“Claire?” At that, she startles, then accepts the wine glass I’m holding out to her with a grateful smile.
“You’re a godsend,” she says as she closes her eyes and takes a sip.
“Actually, this came from Derrick.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise.
“Yeah. He’d just poured it for you when he got a phone call. Don’t worry, the bar was already buttoned up. Said he had to run and asked me to bring it over.”
“Huh,” she muses. “That’s not like him.”
“Agreed. He looked a little stressed, to be honest. Wonder what’s going on.”
She leans back in the rickety office chair that I fear is going to fall apart any day now. “Well, whatever it is, I cannot handle anyone else’s drama. I’ve got enough right here.” She gestures toward the stacks of papers.
“That bad, huh?” I ask her softly.
Claire’s forehead creases as her lip starts to tremble. It must be pretty bad. I’ve never seen Claire this vulnerable at work. “Yeah, it is,” she whispers. “Viv… I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
Her shoulders hunch, two silent tears trickling down her face, and I remove the wine glass from her hand. Wrapping my arms around her, I try to infuse as much love into the hug as I can. “Shh,” I soothe, rubbing circles on her back for a few moments as she cries into my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
