The lights flash with a warning that the show will be starting soon, and Chloe’s kisses grow gentler before she pulls back, her green eyes shining with a desire that has me struggling to remain in my seat.
She rubs her lips together, reaching for her champagne. “I’m glad to see you as well.” Her lips curl around the glass, creating an entirely new provocative thought. “What are your plans while we’re in California? Will you have to work most of the time?”
I blink through my lust, attempting to focus on the question and my upcoming calendar. “I have a meeting on Wednesday morning and then again Friday morning.”
“All day again, like today?”
I gently lift my shoulder, uncertain. “I’m hoping not. This was painfully long because there was a lot to discuss, and one of the managers couldn’t understand me—claimed my accent was too thick.”
She belts out a laugh that makes her nose crinkle in one of my favorite expressions of hers because it’s pure and unedited. “How did you guys manage?” She runs her tongue along her top lip, not even realizing the effect it has on me.
“We had to wait for someone to come and be my translator.”
Her shoulders shake with a gentle laugh. “But it all went okay? No issues?”
I reach for my glass of champagne, drinking half of it with one swig. “The hotel paid to be fully re-carpeted. It was a few hundred thousand dollars, and the work hasn’t been done, and it’s been over eighteen months.”
Chloe’s eyes round before she blinks. “Is that normal?”
“It’s not uncommon for charges to be made in a separate calendar year for tax purposes, but eighteen months is on the cusp of being suspicious.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you with this.”
I don’t mention that the figures are minuscule enough that it doesn’t raise any alarms and wouldn’t make much of a difference; it’s a matter of principle and trust that has me following up on this—respect because there are few things as important to me as the hotel’s running successfully and fluidly. “I just want you to enjoy your time.”
“You go to work, and I play all day. Pretty sure you don’t need to be worrying about me enjoying myself. But, I have done a ton of research on California, and if you’re able to get off at a reasonable time on Wednesday, I’m planning a date. A Robinson style date, which—warning—will likely consist of a food truck and something outdoors.”
“You aren’t going to get us lost in some desert, are you?”
Her mouth falls agape. “They didn’t mark the trail!” she cries out.
I bend at the waist, laughing away the rest of the stress I’ve felt all day in my shoulders. “It’s a date,” I tell her.
“And…” she continues. “I told Coop to invite you a few weeks ago, but just in case Mr. Forgetful forgot to mention it, I have tickets for all of us to go to a cocktail event in San Francisco before the meteor shower. It’s going to be a total geekfest with lots of astronomy students and professors and some renowned scientists, and the food is likely going to be awful compared to what we’ve been having, but—”
I interrupt her with a kiss as the lights begin to dim. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I tell her.
She flashes a smile that steals my breath—it’s adoration with a shot of appreciation that reminds me how it’s always been time that she appreciates most, which is why in each city she’s made an effort to get us to do things all together.
The lights fall even lower, and the orchestra begins to play. Chloe slides over in her chair, sitting as close as she can, considering the expansive chairs. I set my right hand on her thigh, and she reaches for my left hand, placing it on my right thigh and weaving our fingers together. I press a kiss to her temple before sitting back to watch the beginning of the show.
The moves on stage are artistically beautiful and sexual and have my body thrumming with energy each time Chloe’s gaze shifts to mine. I run my thumb across her thigh, moving my hand fractionally higher with each pass. She moves her attention to my hand and then the surrounding area before she glances at me. “We’re really exposed here,” she whispers. “I think we’d get kicked out.”
I grin as I lean forward and shake off my jacket and drape it across her lap. “If anyone looks, they’ll think I’m just holding your hand,” I tell her as I reach beneath the black cover and gather the layers of her dress. Her eyes are wide with surprise, but her thighs relax as she parts them for me. I run my middle finger along her seam, her soft gasp instantly making me hard. I trace over her again, then lightly rub her clit through her panties, feeling the muscles of her thighs constrict. She rocks her hips forward against my hand. I change the motion, using two fingers to follow across her opening. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all fucking day,” I tell her quietly. Her eyes slide to me as I slip my finger beneath her underwear, drawing circles over her exposed clit. Her heels angle her hips upward, giving me the perfect access to slide across her entrance. Her fingers constrict around mine as I lazily move closer to her core, her teeth catching her lip as she stares at the stage. “You’re so wet for me.”
She gasps again, shifting her hips in a slow pattern as I draw my fingers over her again. Anyone who might glance in our direction would have a difficult time seeing anything, the space is heavily shadowed with the dim lighting, but her expression is so focused with control, I’m determined to challenge her and see if I can make her façade slip.
“Take your panties off,” I whisper.
She looks at me, doubt visible in her stare.
I slip my finger across her clit, making her gasp. “Off.”
She turns to look behind us, then slips her hands beneath my jacket and lifts slightly from her seat before getting her underwear to her knees. I hook my fingers into the fabric, sliding them the rest of the way and freeing them from her shoes. I press the silky fabric to my nose and breathe deeply, smelling her desire for me. I shove them into my pocket before resuming our position, weaving my left hand with hers and sliding my right hand between her thighs.
I place my thumb on her clit, rubbing circles over her as I slide my middle finger lower and slowly inside her. Chloe gasps quietly, her lips parting as she raises her hips a bit higher to meet my touch. I gently thrust my fingers into her, changing the tempo of my thumb as I continue to massage her clit. Her grip tightens, and her thighs begin to tremble. I lessen the pressure, and her gaze swings to mine with a silent protest
“It’s a two-hour show,” I tell her.
She blinks, trying to find a foothold in her lust-drunken state.
“Relax. I’ll get you there again.” I run my fingers through her folds, spreading her wider as I circle her clit with my middle finger as a sign of good faith.
“I’m beginning to think you’re a sadist,” she says.
I grin. “I warned you I was.” I increase my speed and tempo, and with her already being so sensitive, she reacts instantly, her legs spreading even wider as her hips flex again, pressing against my hand. I stop, running my fingers lower, back to her entrance where I slide two fingers inside of her, feeling her hips rock with an invitation.