Illicit by L Moone

Author:L Moone [Moone, L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: eXplicitTales
Published: 2020-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

* Kayla *

Time passes at a snail’s pace, but eventually it turns ten, and my shift is over. I don’t know whether to be excited or nervous when I approach Simon, who’s still sitting at the same table by himself. His eyes are on me already, as they have been for most of the evening. He probably has no idea how vulnerable he makes me feel.

The tablecloth has dried up somewhat, but the evidence of my screw-up is still evident. He doesn’t look tense anymore, but that only lessens my embarrassment. It doesn’t take it away completely.

“I’m done. My shift is over,” I tell him.

“Congratulations,” he says, while keeping his napkin down and standing up.

“For?”

He’s taller than I remember. He makes me feel small and dainty, even though I’m anything but. A model, me? As if!

“You survived your first shift without Gary firing you.”

I smile briefly. “Right, yeah. It was touch and go for a bit, but I made it.”

He smiles back at me and my heart jumps. He really doesn’t look old enough to be Lauren’s dad. His closely cropped reddish blonde hair doesn’t even have any grey in it that I can see. I would have guessed he’s in his late thirties maybe, not even eight years older than me. But I know better now. I’m a lot more informed about him than I was during our first meeting.

“I’d like to talk with you in private, if that’s okay?” Simon says.

I find myself helplessly staring at his lips while he speaks. He wants to talk, is it? All I want to do is silence him with my mouth.

But that’s so very wrong.

I hold my breath and nod. “Sure. I think the function room isn’t in use tonight. We could talk in there.”

He must pick up on my suggestive tone, because he suppresses another smile and gestures at me to lead the way. What am I even doing here? This is a mistake, and yet I can’t stop it from happening. I feel like I’m walking head-first into a trap, but I’m unwilling or unable to save myself. Again.

For the past three weeks I’ve thought about him almost constantly. Initially, I tried to fight it; I tried to forget our kiss. Then, I let my imagination roam free in the hopes that if I kept rehashing things, my fascination with him would eventually fade.

But you don’t douse fire with yet more fire.

My misguided efforts of working through my illicit obsession have put me in a position where I find him even harder to resist. Instead of lessening his appeal, it’s only made it stronger. How many hours have I spent staring at tabloid photographs of him, fantasising about the impossible?

And I’m leading him into a darkened room at the club to talk in private. My imagination conjures up a million possibilities for what’s about to happen, and simply talking isn’t one of them.

He closes the door behind us and turns to face me. My knees tremble slightly and a shiver creeps down my back.

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