|◁ II ▷|
jessie reyez — imported.
THEIR LIPS CRASHED TOGETHER in a wave; like horny teenagers who had just been left alone by their parents and only just discovered the concept of libido. His hands didn't stay constrained to one place — grabbing at every inch of her brown skin and made sure he felt her, every single part of her.
The constant thuds from their kiss would have sunk her chest, deep, on a different day as Maya's initial indifference to Ebén had turned into slight... tolerance. Ebén then slipped his tongue into her mouth, his foot firmly on the gas; inviting her to dance a slow and amorous symphony with the man whore — who was not known to feel a thing.
A groan, a shrill-sounding one, caused the clover green eyes of the pert bartender to cast a curious yet equally taken aback gaze at the woman whose ass had landed roughly on the bar stool.
His lips were pressed like he was trying to figure Maya out how much dutch courage she might need.
"Hi, there"
But dutch courage wasn't what Maya needed; she just wanted to drink and drown and wanted to forget that thing coming for her on the horizon, "Hi"
"What drink is a lady like yourself in the mood for?"
She lounged back against the counter sporting an apathetic nod, "A double shot of Henny, neat"
His eyes were alert with a shade of curiosity as though she wasn't tough enough to handle her drink. He leant in with his elbows grazing her forearm unaware that he had now been tasked with getting her shit-faced, "Rough night?"
She lifted her glass, displaying no womanly grace, to her mouth as her lips rested on the drink rim, "Yeah... somethin' like that, you could say"
He paused in an attempt to snuff out her intentions before she urged him to fill her glass full.
She wasn't looking for an ear to vent to.
She wanted alcohol and she wanted it now.
"Pour please"
He lauded her with more poison, his furrowed eyebrows were watchful as she winced attempting to swallow, "I don't think I've ever met a woman who can slam a double shot of Henny"
Maya involuntarily stiffened up at the compliment; knowing that her appetence to alcohol was because of years of mourning — not because she liked it.
She had grown to love the strong taste.
She hadn't always.
"Most women don't drink as much as I do"
His eyes went warm as did his smile.
She whisked more shots to her lips; chasing it down with rum. "Another one, please" she said, with a wince that travelled up her temporal lobe and caused the lines in her head to deepen.
"So, what's your plan then?" His fingers laced on the beer tap, with his body stance open.
A mannerless burp jumped out, "Pardon me. You're going to help me get shit-faced drunk" His squared glasses narrowed at her, slightly, "Gladly. I'm Eli."
"Maya," she warbled, trying to continue with the introductions whilst the alcohol was already hitting the back of her throat. He hesitated, for a second, a mist of green crowding out his round eyes.
Maya, though, was too drunk to notice his veiled smirk on his lips that he was courting the woman who the press had hounded as a 'dirt cheap opportunist' with drinks.
YOU ARE READING
I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)
Romance( BOOK COMPLETED ) A night on the town in West London causes Maya St Thomas to meet the rugged athlete and notorious philanderer, Ebén Jávier Cástro. Ebén isn't the type to commit to things long term, preferring drunk one night stands with women wi...
