Page 121 of Ward Willing
Once I’ve loaded our bags into the car, I turn on the playlist she sent me a few weeks ago. It had been a particularly long stretch between quickies, and I was missing her. I couldn’t deny the fact that her making me a playlist—which equated to her burning me a CD in elder millennial lingo—was fucking hot. She gives me a small smile as the music plays softly in the background, and as I drive down the long driveway, I let my hand wander down to her thigh.
“How are your classes?” I ask, my voice sounding brusquer than I intend it to.
“Good. I’m especially excited to be done with this one poetry class I’m taking. The professor is too hot, and I haven’t learned a thing all semester.”
I grin as I pull onto the road. “Hmm. Considering you’ve aced every assignment, according to my peers, I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Are your classes going okay?” she asks, placing her hand on top of mine.
“Can’t wait for finals week because it’s usually a lot slower than normal, but I’m not excited to grade over four-hundred poems. And your book? How are edits going?”
She’d told me she’d finished the first draft last week after one of our quickies in my office. I’d been so happy for her that I’d gotten on my knees and pulled two quick orgasms out of her. We were both late to our next class, but it was more than worth it.
“Ugh. The worst. I hate every minute of it. What about you? How’s your mysterious book coming along? Are you ever going to tell me anything about it?”
I stop at a light and run a hand over my face. “You can read it if you want. I’m almost done.”
Zoe’s quiet for a moment, and I can hear the trepidation in her voice. “That’s amazing, Liam. What is it about?”
I contemplate not telling her. The analogies and metaphors I’ve woven through the book could be passed off as fiction, but since she knows me, she might see right through me.
“It’s dark. I’m not quite sure what to classify it as. But the premise is about a boy who grew up in a castle.”
This quiets her, and as the light turns green and I drive forward, she doesn’t say anything for several seconds.
I continue. “A war breaks out, and the boy has to choose between saving his younger siblings or saving his father. He chooses his siblings, and deals with the repercussions of that choice for the rest of his life.”
“I want to read it.”
My lips twist as I squeeze her thigh. “Only if I can read yours.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I should’ve guessed you’d say that.”
The rest of the drive is filled with light conversation, and though my body craves her, itneedsthis more—the connection. The small talk. The checking in.Thisis what I miss the most when I’m not with her.
After we park and I open her door for her, we walk into the bar. It’s casual and art deco themed, and I glance over at the gleaming, refinished bar with pride. I’d spent most of last month here when I wasn’t teaching, helping Orion lay new hardwood floors, refinishing the vintage bathroom, and ensuring the bar—which was beautiful but falling apart—could be revived. It involved a lot of woodwork, staining, sanding, sawing, and wood putty, but in the end, we got it working.
There’s a stage set up in the back, and Orion plans to open it up to anyone who wants to perform once a week. The tables and chairs are made of dark wood, and the booths lining the back wall are made up of dark red leather. I’d also helped him hang the fan-shaped sconces and crystal chandeliers. The outcome is better than I expected, and as I take in the sultry jazz music and low lighting, I’m struck by how good Orion is at this.
“I can’t believe you guys pulled this off in a month,” Zoe murmurs, looking around the crowded bar and grinning.
“Well, I just helped. This is Orion’s baby.”
“Have I ever told you how hot it is that you’re so capable of fixing things?” she asks, her honey brown eyes going a bit dark as she purrs the last two words.
My hand slides around her waist, and I squeeze her exposed abdomen once as I bend down to speak directly into her ear. “And have I ever told you how these tiny little shirts you wear drive me crazy? I never knew that an inch of skin could be so mesmerizing, baby girl.”
Zoe pulls her lower lip between her teeth as one of her hands comes to my chest. “Come on. Let’s go mingle. And then I want to leave.”
I’m already hard as I grab her hand and lead us toward the bar. Zoe looks down in surprise.
“They know about us,” I tell her, referring to my brothers.
Zoe beams proudly, and it makes my heart soar. “Good.”
Much to my surprise, when we get to the bar, Orion is behind the bar with a martini shaker, brows furrowed in focus as he pulls one of the signature martini glasses from the glass cabinet he had custom made. It strikes me how much self-control he has in regard to alcohol—being around it all day, every day. As we walk up to the bar, he glances up and smiles.
“You made it,” he says slyly, looking between Zoe and me.
