Page 3 of Doctor Mile High
“If I’m not mistaken, Dove, you’re hitting on me.”
“Am I?” I shrug my shoulder and take another large sip of my drink. “I guess that’s for you to figure out, Winston.” I drop my voice so it’s a bit sultry and flirtatious, wanting him to know that I’m interested.
I want no guessing or uncertainties. Not on my last night of vacation. I’m never going to see this man again, so why not have a good time?
A small part of me is sad that I won’t see him after this. Maybe in another life, we could live happily ever after on this beach.
Fantasies like that are dangerous. They cause you to yearn for something you’ll never have.
Winston raises his hand to get the waitress’s attention. She scurries over from the bar with a bright smile on her face, but I don’t miss how it fades when she glances at me.
“How can I help you today, sir?” she practically purrs.
“Another daiquiri for the lady, please, and another scotch. Two fingers.”
“Coming right up,” she chirps, her ponytail flicking left and right as she walks away with a sway to her hips.
His eyes aren’t on her, though.
They’re on me.
“Thank you for the drink. You didn’t have to do that.”
He takes my hand in his, kissing the tops of my knuckles. “I did. I know who I want to spend my last night on the island with. I’ll take care of you tonight.”
My brows rise. “Take care of me? In what ways? I can pay for myself.”
“A woman like you should never have to pay for anything,” he growls, his green eyes darkening to the color of a storm over the lush green rainforest. “And tonight, you’re all mine.”
I bite my lower lip and cross my legs, a sudden ache growing between my thighs. “I like the sound of that. I think I might like the sound of that a little too much.”
“No such thing. We’re allowed to indulge if want to.”
The waitress finds the perfect time to interrupt, placing our drinks in front of us. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you,” he dismisses her, his eyes never escaping mine as our gazes lock together.
The waitress sighs but remains professional and serves drinks to her other tables.
“And Dove?”
“Winston?”
“You are what I want to indulge in tonight.”
I’m a little stunned by his forwardness. I’ve never put myself out there like this before, throwing all caution to the wind. I don’t typically date. I’m too busy and I’m too tired to go to the bar for a night out.
Tonight, I want to be different. I want to be someone I’m usually not. I want to enjoy myself. I want a night to remember for the rest of my life, without the thought of my boss looming over me.
Taking one last sip of my drink, I meet his eyes that haven’t moved away from me. “Aren’t I a lucky girl, then?”
He growls before downing the rest of his drink, slamming the glass onto the table. His eyes travel up and down my body, drinking me in as if he’s still trying to quench his thirst after downing his whiskey.
A slower song begins to play with a beat that is meant to seduce. Winston stands from the table, holding out his hand for me to take. “Dance with me.”
He doesn’t ask. It’s a statement. A demand.
One I easily find myself obeying as I slip my hand into his again. As he tugs me behind him toward the dance floor, I’m able to appreciate the width of his back and the way his tailored shirt forms to his body. I’m almost jealous of his clothes for being able to touch his skin. Would he be soft? Would he have chest hair? No chest hair? Does he have freckles? Are there certain areas that he likes touched more than others?
