I’m still not quite over the little show he put on back there, so I can’t muster up any amusement, but when has that ever stopped Jorgie? “Though either of those scenarios is more likely than you having a girlfriend.” There’s a quick pause in the narrative before he goes on in a much more animated voice. “Hold up, hold up. Exactly how old is this chick?”
My glower fades and damn it if my lip doesn’t twitch. He’s like a dog with a bone.
“No way! How far into cougar territory are we talking?”
I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t push your luck.”
“No, come on, me and Mikey have a long-standing bet on this.”
I’m sure that would piss me off if it weren’t for the fact that Ellie isn’t where I left her. Scanning the bar, I don’t see her and my heart rate ticks up a half a notch. The thought of her dancing with one of the many guys who’ve been watching her all night makes my stomach turn. Ugh. I need to shut that down. It’s doubtful Ellie would appreciate the sentiment, I think wryly as I search for her tall figure on the dance floor. Nothing. Since she didn’t pass us on the way to the restrooms, maybe she went upstairs to hang out with my friends.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I’m met with Cindy’s eager face on the landing. “Where’s Ellie?” she chirps. “She’s so nice, Scotty!”
“She’s not up here?”
“No, I’ve been waiting for you guys to come back.” Her face pinches when she spots Jorgie coming up behind me. I have no desire to get in the middle of their tempestuous, on again/off again relationship, so I turn to go.
“Lost her already?” Jorgie says smugly.
Ignoring him and the tiny niggle of worry that’s starting to grow in my chest, I head back down. I shouldn’t have left her alone. Logically, I know she can handle guys on her own, but what if she’s tempted to take a drink? At the bottom of the stairs, I feel myself at a bit of a loss. Then I recall there’s this newfangled machine called a cellphone that can put you in touch with people.
Opal: I’m outside with Chico if you’re looking for me.
Relief, pure and simple, hits me. After that brief spark of fear, seeing her safe and sound at the security podium triggers some kind of proprietary instinct inside of me. As I approach her, the feeling only builds on itself until a visceral possessiveness is being pumped through my veins with every beat of my heart. She is mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this thing between us work. I don’t care how unfamiliar the sentiment is, it’s the only outcome I can live with.
But my own needs get knocked back when I’m standing in front of her and see her face. Shit, she knew what Jorgie was about.
“Hey,” she says tentatively, not quite meeting my gaze.
Fuck that. I lift her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “I misread the situation,” I tell her straight up. “If I’d known what he was going to say, I would have told him off from the start.”
She bites her bottom lip, still unsure. “So, he, uh . . .”
I don’t leave her hanging. “He thought what he’d say would change how I feel about you. He was wrong. Nothing could do that.”
The soft brown of her eyes flashes with emotion. “I was a little worried,” she says in a small voice.
“And for that, I’m sorry.”
She begins to shake her head, but I stop her by leaning in to cover her mouth with my own. It begins innocently enough, but we’re both needy, emotionally after the drama and physically after all the foreplay on the dance floor, so it quickly morphs into something that gets us whistles and catcalls from our audience.
“Should we get out of here?” I murmur into her lips.
Under mine, her mouth pulls into a smile. “Finally,” she sasses me, drawing the word out. And I have to laugh, a full-out, tilt-your-head-back kind of laugh as I pull her off the stool and we start walking, hand in hand.
“It wasn’t that funny,” she says, waving goodbye to Chico.
“Maybe not, my sweet Opal, but it reminded me of all the reasons I like hanging out with you.”
“There’s more than just the one then?” she teases.
“Oh yeah, there’s a bunch. But we can definitely go over the one you’re thinking of when we get back to your place.”
We quicken our pace.
The ride back to her place is as charged as it always is; all the tension and electricity gets trapped in the cab, and with nowhere to go, it becomes a simmering morass of lust and anticipation.
Before we get out of the truck, I stop her. “Remember that time you said you’d let me know if I came on too strong, the caveman thing or whatever?”
Her eyebrows shift upwards. “Yeah.”
“I need to hold you to that tonight.”
It takes a moment before understanding sluices over her features, parting her lips, hitching her breath. I all but watch her pupils dilate in the overhead light of my truck.
“Don’t let me push you too far, okay?”
She licks those delectable lips as she nods. “Okay.”
The short walk is made in silence, every step ratcheting up my need for her.
At the building’s entrance, she goes ahead of me to unlock the door. God, those long legs in those heels? All that smooth skin stretched over lean muscle that flexes as she walks? The sight twists me up further, making the want stretch and claw inside of me.
As if she can sense my eyes all over her, she winks at me over her shoulder. The notion that she thinks she has some control over this mounting tension between us is intolerable. Tonight, I need things my way. She’ll be the one yielding.
Once we’re inside her apartment, she moves closer, but I stop her. “In the bedroom.” The harsh tone of my voice has her steady gaze clashing with mine, holding it until the connection between us is strung as taut as a piano wire. Without a word, she finally turns on her heel and strolls that incredibly sweet ass across the living area and into her bedroom.
She bends over to switch on the bedside lamp and I almost groan. When she faces me, I lean back against the wall. “Strip,” I order.
I should have known it would take more than a simple command to fluster her. As she slowly opens the side zipper on her dress, her lips still have that haughty tilt to them, like she knows exactly how desperate I am for her no matter my attempts to play it cool. The irritation I’m feeling ebbs though as soon as the dress comes over her head and she’s left in the most incredible lingerie I’ve ever seen. Holy shit, she didn’t give me a preview of that earlier. The bra is all black. The barely there cups are edged with lace, and show off the creamy flesh they’re holding, serving her up like an ice cream sundae. The matching bottoms are also lacy but in a much more wholesome way with a lot more material to them than the usual thongs she wears – boy shorts, my brain comes up with. The contrast created between the two pieces, one sinful, one sensible, sends another shot of lust through me.
I tell her to spin with a twirl of my index finger and my jaw drops. If the panties are innocent in the front, from the back, they’re anything but. The lace that edges the front makes up the entire backside, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Facing forward again, she strikes a pose, her hands landing on her hips. “You like?”