“Now, this is the kind of place I would love to work,” she says, her expression still etched in awe. “The music, the food, the customers here to unwind and relax.”
“I could see you in a place like this.”
Her smile brightens as if I’d just paid her the highest compliment.
“Not waiting tables but owning a place like this.”
“No,” she shakes her head, but she can’t hide her blush. “No way. I wouldn’t know the first thing about that. I don’t have the education—”
“Experience. Talent. Skill. Those things can outvalue an education.”
“You really think so?” She chews her lip, and I really wish she wouldn’t. I am not a fan of public displays, but drawing attention to her mouth makes me want to prop her ass on this table and devour her without a single care to who sees.
“I don’t lie.”
Her smile is soft and a little shaky. “I know. It’s one of the things I love about you.” Her eyes widen, and her gaze drops to my chest. “Not that I love you, but—”
The band makes its way back on stage, and her words are cut short by the cheering of people around us. My brows are in a fixed scowl as I consider her words. Love is an emotion I don’t have the ability to feel or recognize. Lust, possession, and infatuation are all I’m able to offer. I told her before that what we have is temporary. She can’t get involved with me blindly. I’ve been upfront about what I am. And yet, she said “love.”
Was her confession a slip of the tongue? Or something she really feels?
I frown and watch the band play, thinking she needs another reminder that I’m not a typical man.
Jordan
I float on my feet out of the supper club, arm in arm with Alexander, the only solid force grounding me as I replay the epic night I just had. The wine has me feeling loose, and I hum the last song the band played, Miles Davis’s “Blue is Green,” the whole way to the car.
“Looks like a successful night,” Murphy says as he takes in my lazy, content smile.
“The best night ever.” I squeeze Alexander’s arm tighter and look up to find him glowering as if he’s stuck in his own head, working over what I said earlier. That won’t do. I push up on my tiptoes while pulling his arm to bring his ear to my lips. Rather than whisper something to him, I stick my tongue out and lick his cheek. His rough expression cracks, and he looks down at me with surprise. I smile in a way that I hope appears seductive and not sloppy. His eyes fix on my lips. “Had to see if you taste as good as you smell.”
He frowns and releases me to put me into the backseat of the car while Murphy tries to hide his smirk.
Alexander climbs into the car, wiping his cheek where I licked him.
“At least you’re not brooding anymore.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “I wasn’t brooding.”
“You kind of were.” After I let the L-bomb slip, he looked like he’d been strapped into a corset two sizes too small—stiff, uncomfortable, and brooding.
“I had a good time tonight,” he says, and the words sound rehearsed as if he’d been taught that those were the right words to say after a date, whether he actually felt them or not.
“Look, I know what’s going on. This is about the L-word I dropped earlier. It just slipped out, okay? You know what else I love?”
He flinches at the word.
“Red licorice. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out what flavor it is, but I’ll eat an entire box and not feel the slightest bit guilty. I also love towels still hot from the dryer. I love springtime in the city. The smell of diesel fuel mixed with ocean water. And I love the feel of a good quality ballpoint pen on paper.”
He seems utterly baffled by my list.
“Don’t get so caught up on the word, Grizzly.” I rock into his shoulder. “For a big guy, you sure spook easily.”
“I didn’t spook.” He side-eyes me with a hint of a smile.
I lean my head on his shoulder. “L-word aside, I had a really good time tonight.”
He puts his lips to the top of my head. “It’s not over yet.”
I grin to myself. “I hoped you’d say that.”
I have no idea how we got from the back of the SUV into the penthouse because my eyes were closed. We kissed in the car and then through the lobby, attacked each other like animals in heat in the elevator, and he carried me inside with his lips still on mine.
Kicking the door closed, he drops my legs only to slam my back against the glass. He reaches down to hook my thigh over his hip and then does the same with the other. My dress around my waist, I lock my ankles and hold on while he pins me against the door.
His mouth breaks from mine only to slide against my jaw to my ear. He’s breathing heavy against my skin. “Too many clothes.” He nips at my earlobe and uses his teeth to tug at the expensive fabric of my dress. I’m so hot, I wouldn’t care if he tore the thing off me. My mouth finds his, and we kiss as if we’d both been starving for it. He holds me in place with his hips and leans back enough to pull my dress up. Our lips part for as long as it takes him to get it off over my head. He kisses me again while his hands grip my breasts with two big fists that squeeze with a dominating grip. One strap falls from my shoulder, and he follows it down with his mouth, kissing and licking my skin until it covers my nipple.
I gasp as the heat hits my sensitive skin and the suction has my back arching off the wall. He releases both breasts and alternates between them with firm lashes of his tongue and a deep suction that makes my mind swim.
“Please,” I beg—for what, I’m not sure. The bone-deep desire for release that only he can provide. The aching need to explore his naked body with my hands, my lips, my tongue. Fewer clothes. More space. More time. I close my eyes against the reminder that Alexander isn’t looking for anything long-term and force myself to stay anchored in the moment. “Bed.”
“Can’t,” he growls against my nipple before tugging it between his teeth.
I reach for his shirt and start working the buttons with shaky hands. He grips my ass and turns to take me to the couch. He lays me down, and his heavy-lidded gaze slides from my mouth to my breasts, now overflowing their bra cups. He lingers on my belly button, and his eyes flare when they land on the tiny, black lace triangle between my legs. He grips the throat of his shirt and tugs it open, popping each button in quick succession. I gape as he tosses the discarded fabric to the floor and pulls off his white undershirt to reveal his torso. My palms itch to rub against the dark hair that scatters the expanse of his wide chest.
He reaches for his belt.
“Wait.” I sit up and face him. “Let me.” I slip my finger into his waistband and tug him between my spread knees.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me while I remove his belt, and I find it hard to focus on anything other than the enormous bulge behind the zipper of his slacks. I brush the tip of his erection while unfastening the top button, and his hips jump in response.
I shove his slacks and boxer briefs to the floor, noticing then that he’d already kicked off his shoes. His hard-on stands thick and heavy between his legs, and I lick my lips in anticipation.