back up trying to boss me around like nothing has changed. I’m with Gunner now, the best thing for me to do is just walk away from this conversation.
“Why must you make everything difficult, Elizabeth? You and I both know I will get what I want.” He declares, arching one of his eyebrows. I slam my mouth shut on the retort, that is dying to come out, and march off in the same direction I came from.
I start going from table to table. Taking orders and bringing empty glasses back to the bar. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time but the anger I feel toward him isn’t allowing me to care. Eventually I get back into a rhythm, and before I know it an hour has passed. Leaving only thirty minutes left in my shift.
“Izzy can you run to the back and get me another bottle of sweet and sour mix please?” Shay asks, as I sit down another empty glass. I give her a slight nod before placing my tray on the bar and heading to the back. Opening the door to the closet that we keep the mixes in, I flip the switch on the wall, but the light doesn’t turn on. I keep telling my boss the damn thing only works when it wants to, but he doesn’t care. I pull one of the boxes over to the door, as a make shift door jamb, because the mixture I am looking for will be in the back corner to my right. So any light at this point will help.
I’m on my tip toes reaching for the box I need. When I hear the slamming of the door shutting behind me. Grabbing the first bottle that my fingertips touch, I turn around in a hurry, ready to use it as a weapon.
“Do you plan on hitting me with that, Elizabeth?” K.J.’s voice rings out into the darkness. Once my brain registers there is not any real danger my heart starts pounding for many different reasons. I am alone in a dark closet with the only man that can make me, literally, weak at the knees. This is not ideal when you have a boyfriend currently cooking you dinner at your apartment. “Damn it K.J. you scared the shit out of me. What in the hell are you doing back here?” I ask trying to hide the anxiety in my voice.
“Are you nervous?” He questions, sounding closer to me. With the door shut there is not enough light coming in for me to be able to see. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down but the smell if his cologne is causing my brain to fog over.
“Nope.” I squeak out when I feel his body warmth getting closer.
“Give me your hands.” He demands. Without my sight, my other senses are stronger which allows me to judge his whereabouts. His cologne has gotten stronger, his voice closer, and body warmth hotter. I instinctively take a step back, bumping into the shelf of boxes.
“Elizabeth, stop running and give me your hands.” The tone of his voice has my body reacting immediately. I slowly raise my hands in the general direction of his voice, which would be right in front of me. He takes both my wrist in his large, calloused, hand and places my arms above my head. Effectively pinning me against the shelves. Then he steps forward, ultimately leaving no space between us, our bodies now flushed against each other. His free hand glides up my back and neck until his fingers are in my hair. With a gentle tug he tilts my head back, “tell me you want this.” He whispers onto my lips.
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, my conscious is yelling Gunner’s name, but the reality that K.J. is standing in front of me finally giving me what I have been practically begging for is enough to ignore the warning bells. He tightens his grip on my hair effectively bringing me back to the now. “I want this.” I whisper out into the darkness.
The moment he slams his lips onto mine I
“Why must you make everything difficult, Elizabeth? You and I both know I will get what I want.” He declares, arching one of his eyebrows. I slam my mouth shut on the retort, that is dying to come out, and march off in the same direction I came from.
I start going from table to table. Taking orders and bringing empty glasses back to the bar. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time but the anger I feel toward him isn’t allowing me to care. Eventually I get back into a rhythm, and before I know it an hour has passed. Leaving only thirty minutes left in my shift.
“Izzy can you run to the back and get me another bottle of sweet and sour mix please?” Shay asks, as I sit down another empty glass. I give her a slight nod before placing my tray on the bar and heading to the back. Opening the door to the closet that we keep the mixes in, I flip the switch on the wall, but the light doesn’t turn on. I keep telling my boss the damn thing only works when it wants to, but he doesn’t care. I pull one of the boxes over to the door, as a make shift door jamb, because the mixture I am looking for will be in the back corner to my right. So any light at this point will help.
I’m on my tip toes reaching for the box I need. When I hear the slamming of the door shutting behind me. Grabbing the first bottle that my fingertips touch, I turn around in a hurry, ready to use it as a weapon.
“Do you plan on hitting me with that, Elizabeth?” K.J.’s voice rings out into the darkness. Once my brain registers there is not any real danger my heart starts pounding for many different reasons. I am alone in a dark closet with the only man that can make me, literally, weak at the knees. This is not ideal when you have a boyfriend currently cooking you dinner at your apartment. “Damn it K.J. you scared the shit out of me. What in the hell are you doing back here?” I ask trying to hide the anxiety in my voice.
“Are you nervous?” He questions, sounding closer to me. With the door shut there is not enough light coming in for me to be able to see. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down but the smell if his cologne is causing my brain to fog over.
“Nope.” I squeak out when I feel his body warmth getting closer.
“Give me your hands.” He demands. Without my sight, my other senses are stronger which allows me to judge his whereabouts. His cologne has gotten stronger, his voice closer, and body warmth hotter. I instinctively take a step back, bumping into the shelf of boxes.
“Elizabeth, stop running and give me your hands.” The tone of his voice has my body reacting immediately. I slowly raise my hands in the general direction of his voice, which would be right in front of me. He takes both my wrist in his large, calloused, hand and places my arms above my head. Effectively pinning me against the shelves. Then he steps forward, ultimately leaving no space between us, our bodies now flushed against each other. His free hand glides up my back and neck until his fingers are in my hair. With a gentle tug he tilts my head back, “tell me you want this.” He whispers onto my lips.
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, my conscious is yelling Gunner’s name, but the reality that K.J. is standing in front of me finally giving me what I have been practically begging for is enough to ignore the warning bells. He tightens his grip on my hair effectively bringing me back to the now. “I want this.” I whisper out into the darkness.
The moment he slams his lips onto mine I
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