Welcome back! Are Conor and Marie going to hit it off, or is he thinking about Charisse? Let’s find out! But if you’re here for the first time, you might try Scene One!
BTW This scene is definetly R rated.
Conor combed his fingers through his hair. Douchey. Rat bastard. The words stung and they fucking shouldn’t, especially hours later after his third Scotch on the rocks.
Jesus Christ his hair felt amazing.
He felt a pressure on his arm. Marie had her hand in the crook of his elbow and was signaling for him to respond to the conversation. He’d only been half listening, but he managed to say something everyone laughed at.
Marie excused them and led him away like they’d been a couple for years. Everyone had noticed them: new haircut, new woman. Marie definitely knew how to work the social circles. Hard to believe given her performance at the salon, but then she hadn’t been prepared. What a difference a few hours made. She’d gone from a desperate reality television bachelorette to the escort Roy had promised in the office earlier that day.
But it was Charisse he kept picturing in his mind. He probably wouldn’t have gone up to the door if he’d known she’d be there. He’d been such an asshole to her. Seeing her nervous in her own home at him being there made him feel even worse.
They stopped at a long window looking out across the Hudson Bay. Marie withdrew her hand from his elbow and turned to face him. Her fingers slipped up his chest and began to adjust his tie.
She whispered, “If you’re not going to pay attention to anyone else here, you might consider paying attention to me. At least that they’ll understand.”
Pushing thoughts of Charisse out of his mind, he covered Marie’s hand adjusting the tie with his own and stared back at her. The little black dress hugged her body in all the right places. Her beauty was undeniable, but having her next to him made guilt crawl up his back.
“I like how your family cuts through the shit,” he said, determined to detach himself from emotions.
She stepped forward as if that had been an invitation. Her nipples brushed against the lapels of his jacket. “People like to gossip about a new couple, but they don’t know what to say about us. You have a new look, courtesy of my brilliant sister, and a woman on your arm, which you haven’t had in months. You need to bring it home.”
His cock swelled despite his decision not to take her to bed. But anger took over at the mention of Charisse. He pulled her hand off his tie and snarled, “Go get yourself a drink.”
She stepped back as if he’d slapped her. He felt like he had. She turned on her heel and strutted towards the bar. He turned away and stared out at the darkening bay.
Evelyn Aster 