I can't help the moan that escapes my mouth at the taste of her tongue against mine, and my hips pulse reflexively up to meet hers. But before I can reach the heat emanating from her core, she grasps my neck in her hand and pushes me away, pressing...
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I smoothed my shirt for what felt like the millionth time and wrung my hands together in my lap, making shapes with my fingers to try and ease the nerves rushing through my system. I moved to straighten the menu before me on the desk, and fixed the menu for the empty seat across from me.
Looking around, I noticed the atmosphere in the spacious coffee shop. The design was open enough that there was room to fit many, but there were only a handful of patrons scattered across the room.
"Kai." My head snapped up from surveilling the room to focus on the woman who called my name.
She actually came.
That night felt unreal, the flirtation was so sophisticatedly seductive that it felt like a grown man's daydream, something I could never conjure on my own. The past few days I had nearly convinced myself that it wasn't real, and if it was, she was just joking. There's no fucking way she would be interested in me, let alone fucking me.
But here she was, standing before me at the table, scrutinizing me. I scramble out of my chair to stand and greet her – I feel like I've seen this in an old movie somewhere. It's polite for a male to stand when their company arrives, and to seat themselves only after they do.
What the fuck am I doing?
She looked like an angel...oddly innocent. Her frame was covered with a sheer lace maxi dress that only hinted at the curvaceous nature of her frame. She seemed to radiate light, and I swear the sun rays were fighting each other to illuminate her through the window glass.
She was fucking glowing.
What am I doing here? How could I even imagine being good enough for her?
I saw a ghost of a smile touch her lips, and she gracefully moved to take a seat across from me.
How are you supposed to breathe again? In, in, in...
"How are you feeling?" Her eyes narrowed and scanned my outfit, and I held my breath in hopes that she approved. I wasn't sure what to wear so I decided to settle on something semi-formal, a thin light blue crew neck sweater and black slacks. Her eyes flickered up to meet mine again, and I could see a glint present that wasn't there before.
I cleared my throat, suddenly remembering our suggestive nature of our previous conversation.
Imagine how much harder you'll come to the real thing.
Fuck.
"I-I'm good."
She hummed in response, her eyes resuming their perusal of my form.
"Miss Bishop, your drink." The barista looked ready to run as she shakily set down a small cup in front of Mist-Valencia.
She doesn't respond, she doesn't even acknowledge the woman. Instead she brings the cup to her lips to take a sip and sets it back down. It's only after a nod of satisfaction does the barista rush off.
