Page 18 of Missed Communication
I bark out a laugh. “Lady garden?”
“You know, winter bush? What do you think us women do in between waxes? How else do I keep myself smooth?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard anyone call it that before. It’s a little disturbing.”
“That was the point; you don’t want to use it on your face.”
My brows pinch and I snatch it from her grasp. “I just had my mouth on your cunt a few minutes ago. Why would I care about your trimmer being used there? For what it’s worth, I don’t give a fuck how little or how much hair you have, I’d happily let you drench my face again.”
Her mouth opens then closes without rebuttal. It’s a small win, but I’ll take it. I power it on and get as close of a shave as I can on my cheeks. I leave my mustache and a little on my chin—there’s a good chance she’ll enjoy the friction later if we have another opportunity to sneak away.
My little temptress watches me while applying her makeup, but I remain focused on the mission. Having someone like Aubrey look at me like this, there are no words to explain what it does to me. It isn’t just lust, there’s curiosity mixed with, dare I say, admiration. If all I get is a week to have her fall for me, I have my work cut out for me. She can deny it all she wants, but this isn’t ending when the summit does.
I shut her pussy tamer off and rinse. As I drag a towel down my face, our eyes lock in the mirror, then she turns to look at me, and sighs, “I’m sorry we don’t have more time.” Taking me by surprise, she lifts onto her toes and kisses me, smearing her lipstick. I have to keep myself from taking it further or we’ll never leave her room.
9
Jamie
Dinner was fucking torture. I can still taste a mix of the two of us on my tongue and watching Aubrey laugh at a joke or greeting someone with a kiss to each cheek had something primal in me wanting to storm over and mark my territory. I had to excuse myself early, not only so I could start my bartending shift, but to keep myself from obsessing over her.
Hours later, no matter how tempting it is to reach out to Aubrey and invite her down to the bar to keep me company, I stop myself every time I pull my phone from my pocket. Lines are already blurred enough as is. In a single day, I’ve gone from perpetual bachelor to fantasizing about ways to keep her here in Canada with me.
The storm has picked up. Since Isaac has insisted that all of his staff and the hotel staff have priority for rooms, the hotel has no vacancies, and he’s camping out in the lobby with a blanket. A bit of a martyr, but it’ll earn him points with the media for his selflessness. When I offered my room, he refused. I just wish I wasn’t sharing with anyone so Aubrey could stay with me. She’s been clear that this is just a casual fling for her, a hookup, but it’smore than that for me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, and it doesn’t help that I’ll be seeing her at the scheduled events for the rest of the week and won’t be able to touch her.
As I’m polishing glasses, I hear the squeak of a stool. I glance up, finding Olivia Harris taking a seat, appearing less than happy to see me. My heart thunders against my ribcage, worried Aubrey may have said something. I make my way over and offer a greeting as cordially as possible, “Good evening, Governor Harris.”
She doesn’t reply, staring at me as if she’s trying to work something out, then blurts, “Oh, um, I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“No.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Not officially. We spoke on the phone a few weeks ago.” Olivia checks my name tag and her brows furrow. If she doesn’t recognize me or my name, then there’s a good chance Aubrey hasn’t mentioned me and she’s just stressed from the long day. Hoping to put her at ease, I explain, “James Wilson. I work for the Prime Minister.”
“James!” she beams. “Hi. Sorry, yes, I remember you. You’re part of the communications team, right?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “But I also work evenings here. So, what can I get you tonight?”
She ponders it for a moment. “I’d love a glass of white wine. Maybe Pinot Grigio? I don’t have a brand preference, so whatever you have open is totally fine.”
“Of course.”
There’s no way in hell I’ll pull an already-open bottle for her. I find one in the back of the fridge that’s perfectly chilled and uncork it. Retrieving a freshly polished wine glass, I set it infront of her, and wanting to stay in her good graces, give her a heavy pour—alcohol usually helps with that.
Olivia takes a sip, speaking into her glass, “Thanks, James. Or should I call you Jamie?”
“I prefer Jamie, if that’s all right.”
She offers a soft smile. “Well, Jamie, I hope you don’t mind me asking, why…” Trailing off, she gestures vaguely to the bar.
I chuckle, feeling a bit of déjà vu from my conversation with Aubrey last night. “I don’t mind at all. I promise, my job pays well, but I’m hoping to save enough to move to California.”
She lifts her glass. “Ah, so this is a bribe.”
Eyes wide, I shake my head. “Hardly. My father lives there, though I wouldn’t say no if you were to offer me a job,” I admit. “I admire all of the work you’ve done, even before running for Governor.”
Olivia blushes at the praise. “Thank you. Are you from Ottawa?”
“My mom and I are, but my dad’s in San Francisco.”Damn it, why did I admit that? I must still be drunk on Aubrey’s cunt.I quickly shift the conversation. “Is this your first time here?”
“Not my first time in Canada, but first time in Ottawa,” she replies wistfully, and with how her politics align, I truly believe she’d be happy here. Maybe that’s Isaac’s plan? I can’t prove it, but I’m positive he still has feelings for her. “I’ve visited B.C. and Nova Scotia before,” she adds. “I’m hoping once the snow lets up, I’ll be able to explore a little.”
