The One With Foreplay

It's Friday Flash Fiction time!


On select Fridays, I'm going to make a post on my Facebook page calling for writing prompts. You can pick any character from my books-- main characters like Garrick or Cade or minor characters like Rusty and Spencer. Comment on my post with that character's name and then a place or object for a prompt. Heck, you can even post things like songs or pictures. Anything you'd like to see me write. Then, I'll pick one and write just a fast and fun little snippet to post here on my blog.

Today's prompt comes from Cohlina: Bliss and Garrick in the bar where they first met


So, without further ado, here's my Flash Fiction Friday entry #4

(This week was a hard choice... there were SEVERAL awesome prompts. Feel free to repost your prompt next time if yours didn't get picked). 

WARNING: DEFINITE SPOILERS FOR LOSING IT.

WARNING PART TWO: This is unedited. So, if there are errors, don't judge me. 

NOTE: This is NOT an excerpt from LOSING IT, KEEPING HER, or some future book. This is special, original content just because I love you guys.



P.S. The book that gets mentioned is Foreplay by Sophie Jordan, which just released this week and is awesome!

I fiddled with the little black straw in my drink, and resisted the urge to tug on the disastrously short mini-skirt that I swore I would never wear. The bartender came up to check on me, and asked if I wanted another. I shook my head, wanting a clear head for the evening.

It wasn’t the same Bartender Boy as that night, but it might as well have been. He was the same type—all smiles and winks and too charming for me to feel comfortable.

Maybe it was the anticipation making me crazy, but I swore I could feel it the second he caught sight of me at the corner of the bar. A zing of electricity shot down my spine, sparking low in my belly. I didn’t sit in our old table, wanting him to have to work a little bit.

Still... sitting on the barstool, I felt on display.

But I didn’t mind. Not for him.

I felt the barest touch against one of my curls before the seat beside me was filled. His long fingers picked up a napkin before placing it back on the bar carefully. I smiled down at the book in my hands. I hadn’t read more than one paragraph since I sat down, too distracted, but he didn’t know that.

“That must be some book you’re reading,” he said, his accent smooth and sinful.

I looked up at his gorgeous face and the blue eyes that captured me all those months ago, and the butterflies in my stomach lurched forward, splatting against my ribcage like moths that didn’t know any better but to dive toward the light.

“It is,” I answered with a smile. “Very… interesting.”

He leaned forward to catch the title of what I was reading, and his jaw went slack. He’d expected Shakespeare, no doubt, and I’d been eagerly awaiting his reaction to my slight detour from our history.

The way his gaze darkened when it swung to me told I’d made the right choice. He leaned closer, and his knee brushed the bare skin of my thigh, and I had to close my eyes to keep my reaction under control.

“Tell me what this interesting read is about. Let me guess… something forbidden?”

His voice dropped low, and I’m suddenly remembering every stolen kiss— from the first in this very bar to the one in the theatre and in my apartment and the computer lab. I’m remembering every other time those dark eyes were directed at me, so full of passion and restraint.

Only there was far less restraint in his eyes tonight than I remembered.

I bit my lip, wanting to make him wait for it. “Not a forbidden love. Not this time.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Then what is it about, love?”

My legs go weak at the endearment even after all this time.

Knowing it would drive him crazy, I didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, I latched on to Bartender Boy, who caught my stare and started moving my direction.

“It’s about a really hot bartender.”

When Bartender Boy was a few yards away, a low rumble sounded in Garrick’s chest, and he pulled me off the barstool and against his chest. When his lips crashed against mine, I figured the game was pretty much over, so I threw my arms around his neck in acceptance.

His tongue split my lips as his hands wandered down. One ghosted over my hip and down to my thigh, fingering the short hem of the blasted skirt he’s so obsessed with.

He pulls my bottom lip between his, scraping his teeth against it.

“I am bloody tired of fighting bartenders off of you,” he breathed against my lips.

I rolled my eyes. “Like any of them would stand a chance against you.”

He must have liked the sound of that because he tugged me in for another hard kiss before pulling me away from the bar and toward the table that had set everything in motion.