Thursday, 29 December 2011
Guest blog: Bekki Lynn - 'Last Glass of Wine'
Lana stepped down onto the floor and came toward him. “Thank you.” She took the box from him and opened it.
He remained near the door, not trusting himself to be near her. It would be so easy to pull the door shut and ravish her. But he couldn’t. He’d be gone in ten days and didn’t want to deal with the attitude she’d give him.
“Is there anything else you need?” The lid on the box stopped in mid-removal as her eyes closed. “Lana.”
She set the lid aside and stared down at the carnations as she spoke to him. “I need the box of mini vases from the office.”
“What about the buffet table? Do you want it set up now or when you come back?”
“It can wait until I return. I want time to shower and change into a cocktail outfit.”
The look of regret on her face said she didn’t meant to give him the image of her naked, wet and hot, but he didn’t need help. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell me what you need done, and I’ll see it’s done. It’ll give you plenty of time to…a… get ready.”
“No, this is something I need to do myself.” She faced him with a red carnation in her hand. He’d always wondered what she’d look like in red. It was beautiful against her fair skin.
“I’ve known the Switzers all my life and have been doing their reunions since I turned twenty-one.”
Her voice softened, as it always did when she felt comfortable with a topic. To him, it only drew him closer. She lifted her face when he stopped in front of her.
“They’re very appreciative of the extra time I put in and tip over and above—”
“Lana, you’re rambling,” he whispered. Her eyes moved over his, and he balled his hands up. “There are reasons we can’t fool around.”
“Yes. I have work to do, and you need to get the vases for me.”
Before he consciously thought of the movement, he reached out and ran his finger along her jaw line and over her lips. “No. Yes, I’ll get them, but I don’t want you to get hurt—and you will.”
“I would have thought with two days off, you would have completely forgotten…what I’d said…did.” She turned away from him and laid the flower down on the table.
Forgotten how she felt in his arms—not hardly. “I’ll be back with the vases.”
It’d only taken a few minutes to walk back to get the box. When he returned to the banquet room, her ass stuck in the air as she bent to retrieve some greenery from the floor. “Damn it, Lana!”
Last Glass of Wine
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