“Will there be anything else I can get for you or your friend?” the hostess continues, handing us our menus.
Grace snorts at the word friend. “No, I think we’re all set, thanks.”
The hostess skulks off and I can’t fight my smirk, hiding it with the menu I pretend to peruse. Grace knows I’m up to something, I haven’t exactly been very cagy about that. I know she’s mad at me. I know she thinks I’ve been pushing her out of her work in favor of another. I think she believes what I said to her the other night was more of that. But she doesn’t know that’s not the case. That I haven’t been able to talk about it because some things are beyond my control.
Tomorrow will be a busy day.
“What looks good to you?” I ask as my hand glides under the table and finds her knee. Her breath audibly catches, her skin warmer than usual. She’s completely naked under her dress and only she and I know it. “I was thinking maybe the filet?”
My palm drifts higher up her thigh until I’m resting my hand just under the hem of her dress. Her legs are crossed, and I push her leg off her knee, forcing them open the perfect amount.
“Carter?” she hisses. “What are you thinking?”
Always so goddamn afraid of getting caught. Of taking the leap and reaping the reward.
“No?” I ask, lowering my menu and my voice, tilting my head as if I’m genuinely giving this some consideration. “Bad idea? You think I should go with the lobster tails instead?”
Her cheeks are stained the most beautiful shade of rose, her lips slightly parted as she sucks in a breath when she feels my thumb glide back and forth along her inner thigh.
“I think—”
“Good evening,” our waiter greets us with a pleasant smile. “Is this your first time dining with us?”
“It is,” I answer, inching my hand higher. She tries to push me off and I squeeze her thigh, letting her know that’s not gonna happen.
“Welcome,” he continues, completely oblivious. “Can I start you both off with something to drink? A bottle of wine or perhaps a cocktail?”
“Grace?”
“Just some ice water for me,” she rasps, having to clear her throat as she tries to squirm out of my touch, but oh no sweetheart, not tonight. Tonight I have the upper hand. Tonight I’m the one who is going to throw her off-balance. Out of her comfort zone. She’s had my head and my heart all twisted up for nearly two months now. Hell, for over a year.
She’s held my heart in the palm of her hand because I gave it to her oh so willingly.
I need her to feel that in return. For me.
I want her to burn and rage and die and live the way I have been for her.
I have to know I’m not fighting this never-ending battle alone.
I need her to trust me and be with me. Fuck, I just need her to be with me.
But for right now, I’m too fucking fired up not to do this. I want to torture her and pleasure her in the same breath. I want to have fun and be naughty and spontaneous.
“I’ll have the same,” I state. “Thank you.”
In a flash, he’s back, filling our glasses with ice water, all the while my eyes are locked on hers. Blue fire. She’s both incredibly turned on and nervous as hell. Heart-stoppingly, breath stiflingly exquisite.
Once he’s done with that, he asks if we’d like him to go over the specials and I tell him we need a minute. He moves on to the next table while I reach with my other hand, lifting my glass and taking a sip, sucking an ice cube into my mouth before removing it with my hand.
“First, I should tell you I’m sorry for what I said about your work. It’s my natural instinct to run like a bull into a china shop and not think twice about what I’m doing. Landon told me it’s because I’m a middle child. Whatever. I would still like to discuss this with you. Come up with a plan in case you do need to slow down a bit. But I will support you one hundred percent in your career. Always. I will never hold you back and I will always help you reach the highest potential for your talent. I got scared. That’s all that was. But I’ve realized the error of my ways and I hope you feel you can talk to me about this. About anything. I trust your judgement when it comes to your body and your work. Please trust me in return with being open and honest about both.”
She swallows, her face streaked with surprise.
That only grows when I place the melting ice cube on her inner thigh. A yelp springs free from her lips and she jolts back, tipping the high back of her chair. I slide the cube higher, the heat of her skin melting it faster and faster, dripping water all down her leg.
“You’re getting me all wet,” she squeals, and I can’t fight my smirk. Hers comes on strong when she realizes what she just said.
“That’s my goal, sweetheart. To get you so worked up and needy and desperate for me that you never run from me again. To show—prove—to you over and over again that you’re mine. That I take care of what’s mine.”
“I hadn’t meant to run. You said the wrong thing at the absolute worst time, and I freaked. I just needed time to think. Some space. You were being such an asshole about my job and the things I had to do, and ah!” she cries out as the cube goes higher, gliding up and down her bare pussy. She sucks in a shuddered breath through her teeth, her eyes wild as they cling to mine. Her hand launches out, gripping the edge of the table, tugging on the white cloth, and shifting our place settings around. “You’re going to get us caught.”
“So what? I don’t care. No one will see anything I don’t want them to see. You’re mine, Grace. You’re only for me and I want the world to know it. No more hiding. Learn to let go. Trust me enough to do that with me.”
Up and down, I glide the ice, knowing it’s cold, but also able to tell by her body’s reaction just how good it feels on her swollen clit. In her hot opening. Before the cube completely melts, I remove it from between her legs, popping it back into my mouth and sucking on it.
Her breath catches, her eyes twin blue saucers of desire.
“Do you think you’re ready to order?” the fucking waiter asks, and I can’t do this here. I can’t tell her all that I have to tell her, touch her the way I have to touch her when we’re surrounded by this guy.
I stare at Grace, smiling. She smiles in return, a million things passing between us. “You know what?” I say to the waiter. “I think we’re actually going to pass on dinner. Sorry for any issues this caused.” I stand, tossing two one-hundred-dollar bills on the table and then I reach out for her. Grace instantly places her hand in mine and then we’re running out, hand in hand, laughing and breathless.
I grab us food on the way home, and we take turns feeding each other chicken sandwiches and fries.
But the moment we enter the apartment, bathed in darkness, all that humor dies instantly. Tense air crackles between us as she takes a step forward and then another, her hands landing on my chest, palms flat and eyes on mine.
“I moved you into my bedroom,” I tell her, though I know she already knows that. That was step one. “I want it to be our bedroom. And the small office next to it, if we decide to stay in this condo, I want to convert it into a nursery for the baby—once we know things are where they should be with the pregnancy. I want us to be a real us and I want us to be a family.”