Broken Dove (Open Road Series Book 2) by Chelle Bliss

Author:Chelle Bliss [Bliss, Chelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bliss Ink
Published: 2022-02-14T18:30:00+00:00

The club is exactly the way I remember. It’s dark, and the conversations are muted, low.

“Is your girlfriend going to try to knife me in the bathroom?” I ask, thinking back to the chick who’d been all over Josh’s lap the other night.

Josh squeezes my hand and motions for me to go in front of him toward the bar. “She’s not exactly a girlfriend. She’s not even a friend.”

“A client?” I ask. “You never stop networking, do you?” I nudge him in the ribs to let him know I’m teasing, and he rewards the gesture with a hand against the small of my back.

The touch of his hand literally sears me through the thin cotton of my slouchy top. My knees weaken, and I have to practically cross my legs to stop the flood of arousal. We have chemistry, and it’s electric. But my heart doesn’t want to follow where my body is demanding to go.

My nipples start to ache, that sharp, needy throb that begs for a mouth or a pair of strong hands to squeeze my tender skin. I don’t know if Josh feels it too, because he pulls his hand slightly away and nods at me.

“Beer?” he asks, sliding past some rough-looking bearded dudes to get to the bartender.

I nod. He could have offered me motor oil at that point, and I would have thankfully sipped it, grateful to have something to focus on instead of him.

He orders two beers, and we stand at a small two-top table. There are no chairs in the place, so we stand facing each other. Josh scans the crowd while I pretend to entertain him with small talk.

Minutes feel like hours, and I don’t think we’re accomplishing anything. The woman in the black jeans who was all over Josh last night walks past and gives a casual “Hey” to him and a not-at-all-discreet glare to me.

I start giggling, and Josh drains the last of his beer, and takes mine and finishes it off.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

He takes my hand and pulls me into the middle of the bar. The music is blaring something that we really can’t dance to, but Josh is laying it on thick. He calls me baby and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me and resting his hands right above my ass.

“This okay?” he asks in a whisper. “We’re looking a little too interested in the crowd.”

“This is your excuse for wanting me to look interested in you?” I give him a sultry smile, but I lean into his hold. “All part of the pretense?” I ask.

“All part of the pretense,” he echoes. “Purely for show. There’s no way any of this is real.”

As he says that, he leans down and plants a featherlight kiss on my forehead. Not my lips. Not my neck. He kisses my forehead like I’m something precious to him. Something he treasures. And as sweet as it is, it feels wrong.

I know what it’s like to feel treasured. Leo shows me in a thousand things he does every week—every day, even.

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