Page 89 of All This Time

“Do you want me to get alcohol too?”

“Obviously we’ll have wine, but I’m sure hard liquor and beer would be good to have too.” I scribble the details of what we discussed and who is responsible for what in the two separate columns. “Anything else?”

“Does Rhonan still drink Pappy Van Winkle?” Fletcher asks, surprising me.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him drink bourbon in a long time. Although, after the other night, I’m sure he could use a glass.”

“What happened the other night?”

I put my pen back down and lean back in my chair. “Sunday night we had dinner at his house with my dad, and he’s trying to teach Ellis how to ride her bike without training wheels. Let’s just say it’s not going well.”

Fletcher laughs. “I see. Well, I was thinking I could grab a bottle for us boys. I don’t drink anymore, but…”

“Wait. You don’t drink? Like ever?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Haven’t since I got drafted.”

“But…why?”

The tilt of his head should alert me to the reason, but when his words follow, all they do is remind me of our history. “Come on, Laney. I’m sure you already know the answer to that question.”

“You’re not him, Fletcher.”

“And I never will be.” He stands from his chair, pushing a hand through his hair since he didn’t wear his signature hat tonight. “I just didn’t want to risk it.” When he glances at the clock on the wall, he sighs. “It’s getting late.”

I didn’t realize it’s been almost two hours since he arrived, but that really shouldn’t surprise me. Time always passed slowly when Fletcher and I talked years ago. Last week, I would have told you that being in his presence would have felt like being stuck in a time warp where everything slowed down, but honestly? Each time Fletcher and I have been together since he arrived in town has felt like it’s slipped away in a blink of an eye.

Even our little rendezvous at the bar the other night and in my office on Monday wasn’t long enough.

“Oh, yeah. It is.” I take a picture of the list and send it to him. “There. Now you have a copy of what we agreed to.”

“That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” He moves for the front door, and as I watch him, I remember what he said yesterday.

The text messages. The flirting. Fletcher promised he’d touch me again, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen anymore.

Disappointment builds in my chest—and even though I want to believe it’s only because I’ve been thinking about him making me come again since it happened the last time in my office, the reality is that part of me doesn’t want him to leave for other reasons—reasons I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Before I can catch myself though, my libido takes the reins of my mind. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

With his hand on the front door handle, he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “I mean, we have the details of the party decided. Is there something else we were supposed to do tonight?”

Our eyes lock, but after a few seconds, I break the stare. Shaking my head, I turn away from him. “Forget it.”

Suddenly, he’s at my side. His fingers wrap around my upper arm, his skin warm and his touch possessive, but not overly so. “Use your words, angel. You’ve got to tell me what you want. I’m not a damn mind reader.”

Closing my eyes, I prepare to speak. “I—I thought you were going to make me…”

“Make you what?” His hot breath skates across the skin at my neck.

“Come.”

“Youthought, or youwant? Be clear, Laney.”

He’s giving you the chance to speak up, Laney, just like you decided you were going to from now on.

With much more conviction, I straighten my spine and say, “I—I want you to make me come, Fletcher.Please.”

I can practically hear his smile. “Attagirl. Now let me take care of you, angel.”