Deepen The Kiss

by Willow Winters

  I can hardly believe she wants me so much. And what’s more, they all think she’s mine. Every one of those guests at my sister’s wedding thinks Grace belongs to me. Then again, the whole damn town is convinced she’s the next one to get hitched.

  They’re right about one thing. She’ll be screaming my name tonight. But the rest is all a lie.

  “Don’t make me wait anymore...” she pleads.

  Grace’s slender neck arches as she grips the comforter in her hands and groans out her words with a little pout on her lush lips.

  I’ve got her so worked up, my little sweetheart. But that wasn’t hard to do. I knew she wanted me. She doesn’t want to keep me though; she just wants me for the night. Tonight, she’s all mine.

  Grace isn’t the kind of girl who winds up with a man like me. She’s got her life planned out. She wants the whole nine yards, and in less than a year.

  She wants a picture-perfect family and a white picket fence, but that’s not a life I’m ready for. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

  I can see Grace wearing a white dress. A wedding dress. I bet she’d wear one of those big ass gowns. I can just see how the dress would move around her long, shapely legs.

  The thought of her walking down the aisle to someone else, a man other than myself, pisses me off. I feel the anger rising, heating my blood just thinking about it. But there’s no way in hell I’ll be the man she’s walking toward. We both know that. I have Grace for tonight, and that’s all that matters.

  This was a drunken deal we made. Our flirtatious natures, getting out of hand. She promised to come to the wedding and pretend to be my girlfriend, to keep my family off my back.

  I slip off my shirt, and start undoing my belt. She turns onto her side and looks at me through her long lashes, her eyes shining with lust.

  “I want you, Charlie.”

  Fuck. I can’t take her whispering my name like that. Like just the taste of my name on her lips is all she needs to cum.

  Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe all this is in my head, because I want to think that hooking up somehow means more to her now.

  It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious.

  It was just a date. Just a release. All of this was only for fun.

  And I know after tonight, she’ll be long gone.

  As the bed groans with my weight and I bend down to kiss the soft, tender skin on the tender side of her neck, I can’t help thinking she feels so right. So perfect in my arms.

  I pull back the comforter, revealing the lacy negligee she's wearing, and watch a beautiful pink blush travel up her chest and into her cheeks.

  “What’s this?” I ask her with a cocked brow. My dick twitches with the need to get that lingerie off of her and onto the floor. I want what’s underneath.

  She bites down on her bottom lip. She tries to throw back one of those smart ass responses she’s always got for me, but my lips are on hers before she gets a single word out.

  Her fingers spear into my hair and she deepens the kiss, wrapping her legs around my hips. She moans into my mouth.

  This is dangerous. I’m fucking addicted. I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  But as I stare down at her beautiful face, her lips parted and her gorgeous baby blues half-lidded, I know this isn’t just a good time anymore.

  I’m not the type of man she wants. We both know that. I don’t have what it takes to keep her.

  But damn… I want to.

  CHAPTER 1

  Grace

  * * *

  “IT’S NOT the worst news, but I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. Honestly though, Grace, there are tons of options when you start looking at freezing some of your eggs,” Dr. Abrahams tells me. She smiles at me, brushing a strand of gray hair behind her ear.

  I look up at the wall behind her, which is plastered with pictures of a thousand babies that Dr. Abrahams has helped other women conceive. The photos are framed with pink and blue paper and look festive. I should be more thankful; she’s just told me my eggs are still viable, after all. But she’s given me news that a woman at my age shouldn’t be getting. Premenopausal isn’t a word I ever thought I’d hear so soon.

  All isn’t lost yet, but if I don’t act soon my chances of having a child will be gone. Even now, without IVF, the odds are slim to none.

  I’m thirty. So… I’ve got to meet someone, and get him to propose. That’s a year and a half, optimistically. Then I convince him to have kids, with expensive medical help. They say that people who wait at least three years before tying the knot stay married longer, so that’s three years longer I’ll have to wait. Then there's conception and gestation… and the birth, of course.

  That’s more than five years and thousands of dollars, assuming everything goes perfectly. If the IVF works on the first try. I look up at the wall of babies, which seems to be mocking me.

  “Grace,” Dr. Abrahams says gently, reaching across her desk to touch my hand. “Did you hear me? I have some pamphlets here for the fertility preservation clinics I recommend.”

  She pushes some brightly colored brochures at me and smiles. I bite my lip and try not to cry.

  “Okay?” My answer comes out as a question, rather than any kind of statement. This isn’t at all what I expected from my checkup. To say I’m shocked is an understatement.

  “We have your follow-up visit scheduled,” the doctor says absently, clicking the keys on her computer and staring at the screen, “so you’re all set.” She finally looks at me with a smile.

  I can’t return it as I nod my head. A follow up in a few days to see how bad it is. How bad. Not if it’s okay. But how bad.

  “If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

  I manage a smile, nodding. She stands and tells me to have a good day. All the while my body seems to move of its own accord. A nurse in hot pink scrubs whisks me out to the reception area.

  “Have a nice day, Miss Campbell,” she tells me, winking before she turns to call her next patient amongst the women seated there. “Mrs. Gray? Shellie Gray?”

  “Here!” A woman in her early forties pushes herself to her feet. “I’m coming.”

  I drift out of the woman’s way, and then the nurse closes the door behind them both. I take a deep breath, giving myself a mental shake, and head out to the parking lot.

  My mind is awhirl with thoughts, most of them depressing. I climb in my white Honda Civic and put my seatbelt on. As soon as the car is on, I turn the radio off, leaving just the hum of the car to accompany me before pulling out of the parking lot. The downtown Atlanta traffic is just as heavy as my thoughts.

  As I sit in traffic on I-85, I stare at the Atlanta skyline. The sun is already beginning to set against the buildings. I sigh. The city was so fun when I was in college, and a great place to be when I was a recent graduate looking for my first serious job.

  Now I have a steady, long-term career as a graphic designer in Buckhead and more and more often, I find myself driving to the suburbs. My cramped apartment in Candler Park gets left behind for the easy, laidback lifestyle I’ve found in Vinings, just outside the city’s perimeter.

  Come to think of it, I haven’t even been at my apartment for more than a night’s sleep or a shower in ages. I haven’t been anywhere in the city, really. The nightlife doesn’t call to me anymore. I basically live at work, and that’s it. If I do have time after I’m done at work work the one place, I want to go to is on the outskirts of the city. My apartment doesn’t make me want to come back home. I need something more peaceful, somewhere away from the high traffic and noises that come from the city’s nightlife. But the thought of moving is just one more stressor to deal with.

  At the moment, all I want is a drink to finish this day. And I know just where I want to have that drink — at the hole-in-the-wall bar my coworker Diane showed me about a month ago. Mac's bar has a jukebox, plenty of places to sit, and unlike the other bars in Vinings, it serves liquor as
well as beer.

  Just thinking about it has me parched. Well, that and the bartender, Charlie.

  Charlie.

  The traffic finally frees up, and I’m quick to engage the turn signal and get off at the next exit to drive toward the bar. Maybe Charlie will make me one of his drinks tonight. That thought puts a smile on my face.

  I jump out of the car in the parking lot of Mac's Tavern, and look at my reflection in the side of the car. Brilliant blue eyes lined with kohl, long waves of copper-colored hair, and a cute upturned nose greet me. If I was nitpicky, I’d say that my eyes are a little too big, that my lips are too wide.

  But I’m trying to get away from that kind of thinking. I tug my pale yellow skirt down and undo a button on my collar. There’s no one to impress inside Mac's, so it’s time to get comfy.

  After fluffing my hair once, I lock my car and head inside. The place is an old brick building, plain and short. Stepping inside is like a breath of fresh air, if you crave a break from it all. There’s an ancient wooden bar along one side of the room, plenty of stools, chairs and tables, and a small dance area. It’s dimly lit, but that’s just fine by me.

  The sound of balls knocking together on the pool table in the back and the chatter of people at the bar greet me.

  As I make my way into the bar, I realize that I'm smiling. There’s something about this place that does that to me. There are about a dozen people sprinkled throughout the bar, mostly just enjoying after-work drinks.

  I walk right over to the bar and sit down at the very end. It’s my seat. I look down the bar, but find the area behind the bar is empty. I wonder where the bartender is. There’s one special guy who could make today complete… if he’s working, that is.

  Then a back door swings open, revealing him. Charlie, the owner of this bar.

  He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair cropped close to his scalp. He’s wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at his rippling muscles as he moves a stack of heavy-looking boxes behind the bar. Along with a jawline made for women to swoon over and twin brows that raise and lower with every emotion, he’s got a nose that’s just too perfect. It fits so well with his physique.

  I bite my lip and blush. I know Charlie isn’t for me, really I do. I literally just found out that my time is running out to form a real connection with someone. It’s just… well, Charlie is hot.

  The kind of hot that might keep a girl up at night, wondering just what’s under those jeans. Wondering if he’s as stacked as you hope he is…

  If the other girls hanging around and looking at him wistfully are anything to go by, Charlie’s packing some serious heat. Then again, none of those girls have managed to nail him down.

  And none of them were walking around, thinking of baby names in their spare time. Yep, I need to keep my hands to myself. My eyes, however…

  I sigh as Charlie turns and sets the boxes down, giving me a peek at his ass. It's perfect, nice and round. I swear, I never even noticed things like that before I met Charlie.

  I chew my lip as I lean forward just a hair. I wonder if he does a lot of squats at the gym, or if his bubble butt is natural.

  He turns around and catches me looking. “Hey, stranger.”

  I blush deep red, because I forgot the most stunning thing about Charlie: his eyes. They’re a kind of moss green color, something straight out of National Geographic.

  “Hey,” I manage, breaking off eye contact. I realize that my crush on Charlie is all it will ever be, a crush. I need to stop being such a weirdo.

  I make eye contact again.

  “Where have you been? It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen your face around here,” he teases.

  “Oh. Just work,” I say with a shrug. “You know, the usual.”

  “Yeah?” he says, grabbing a towel and wiping off his hands. “That’s it, huh?”

  “That’s it.”

  His voice drops as he leans against the bar. “Nothing interesting to report?”

  Somehow, he manages to make that sound filthy. God help me.

  “Nope.” I push my hair back off my shoulders, feeling a little hotter than I should.

  “Too bad. I was looking forward to you telling me some tales.” He looks down the bar and nods to someone he knows. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Umm… just a glass of white wine.”

  “You got it.”

  He moves down the bar to fulfill my order, and I nearly groan to see him go.

  Yeah, it’s safe to say that I’m holding a bit of a torch for him. I know he’s not what I want — he’s hot, but completely allergic to commitment. It’s why I’ve never approached him. As he’s told me before, he has no intention of settling down. Still, there’s no law against looking, is there?

  I rest my chin on my hand and sigh to myself while I stare after him.

  CHAPTER 2

  Charlie

  * * *

  WELL, my day just got a whole lot fucking better. Grace is one of my regulars, and a favorite customer. It helps that she’s hot as hell. I smirk as I fill the glass of white wine and set the bottle back on ice behind the bar.

  “Charlie,” Mickey calls out to me. He’s another regular and the uncle of one of my employees.

  I give him a nod, grabbing a tall glass and throwing the handle for the Guinness back to get Mickey another. He’ll be here all night, staring up at the college games on the televisions above me.

  I slide him the beer, scooting it across the bar top. I’m half tempted to ask him where the hell his nephew is since he never showed up for work, but it’s not like he’d know. It’s a damn small town and bringing up business to Mickey isn’t going to help any. He’s a retired cop, and his wife passed away from cancer not too long ago. I’m not going to give him a hard time because his nephew doesn’t have a clue what work ethic is.

  “Thank you, sir,” Mickey tells me, grabbing his beer. He doesn’t even look away from the game on television.

  “Charlie!” Maggie calls out from behind me. She swings open the doors to the back and walks through as she throws on her apron. Thank fuck she’s here.

  “Is the kitchen all set?” she asks. She puts her arms around her back, as she ties the apron.

  “Yeah, it should be ready for you,” I tell her, grabbing the glass of wine for Grace. I try to fight back my agitation.

  James is really looking to be fired. I’ve absolutely had it with him getting drunk after closing and not showing up the next day. He’s young and stupid. I know what that lifestyle is like, since I used to be just like him, but I’m sick and tired of putting up with his shit.

  I’m fucking exhausted, and the night’s just getting started. But that’s what this business takes. Hard work and dedication. It’s not what I thought it’d be when I opened a bar at the outskirts of town. I know part of the reason I did it was to get away.

  Part of it was to drown out the memory of the past with booze.

  That was years ago when I was dumb and stupid. But somehow I got lucky, and this damn bar is the only good thing I’ve got going for me now.

  “Thanks for coming in, Mags.”

  I turn to look over my shoulder, but Maggie’s already gone. She's a hard ass and doesn’t need to be told thanks, but I should give her a raise or something. Good help’s hard to find in a small town where people think they can get away with this shit.

  “White zinfandel tonight?” I ask Grace.

  I set the glass in front of her and wipe my hand off on my faded blue jeans. Her slender fingers brush against mine as she takes the glass with both her hands.

  “Sounds about right,” she says with a hint of a blush to her cheeks. “I need it.” I cock my head at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “Things going okay?” She asks as her brows pinch, and she looks past me to the swinging double doors Mags went through. “Not that I’m trying to change the subject or anything… you just seem like something�
�s off.”

  I shrug and lean my hip against the bar as I pick up a rag. I let out a sigh and try to shrug it off, but Grace looks at me pointedly, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass down. I don’t know why, but it makes me smile.

  “A new hire didn’t show up is all,” I answer Grace without thinking.

  I’m relaxed as I lean against the bar. The wet rag in my hand glides down the bar easily, soaking up the spilled beer. I sealed and lacquered the oak bar myself. This bar is my baby. And James doesn’t respect it, or his job.

  “Uh oh,” she answers playfully.

  She smiles into her glass. Her hot breath creates a fog on it before she takes a sip. She moans soft and sweet, loving the taste. I know it’s an innocent move on her part, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make my dick hard as stone.

  Grace has got something about her that makes her easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because she’s not from around here, so I know nothing I say is going to be used against me later on. People in this town talk, and it drives me up the damn wall.

  “You gonna fire him?” she asks.

  Her fingers slip up and down the skinny wine glass stem. I don’t think she’s doing it intentionally, but that simple innocuous movement is making my already hard dick twitch with need.

  I shake my head, but don’t trust myself to speak. I wouldn’t fire James. His aunt was one of my teachers all throughout high school. His parents live not five houses down from me. Little shit knows it, too.

  “Well maybe you should make him wash the dishes when he comes in then,” she answers with a shrug that makes her buttoned-up blouse slip open just slightly.

  I can’t help that my eyes dart down to her cleavage. It’s a modest top, probably from that office job she’s got. But right now, it’s giving me a teasing glimpse and I want to see more.

  “I am-” I tell her as I see Mickey waving me down. “Soon as he gets in here, no bartending, all dishes.” I’m half playing half-serious. The grill in the back needs to be scrubbed down, along with all the equipment, and that’s James’ payback. That’ll teach him. She laughs that sweet, soft sound I know is genuine. I tap the bar with a smile as I walk to the other end to Mickey.