"An invitation," I repeated after licking her taste off my fingers.
"To what?" she asked, blinking rapidly for a second, trying to control her reaction to me.
"Dinner. I want to take you to dinner," I told her, reaching outward, refastening her pants, knowing she would likely have a freakout about not realizing she left them undone. "Food. Conversation. Where we both pretend we aren't going to go back to one of our places and break the bed," I added, shooting her a smirk.
"I... you... I mean... you don't have to take me out to dinner."
"Skip the meal, right to bed, huh? Very forward of you," I teased, making a smile spread.
"No, I meant—"
"I know what you meant. And it's ridiculous, so we are just skipping right over it. I wouldn't have asked you to dinner if I didn't want to take you to dinner. So unless you don't want to go to dinner with me..."
"No... I mean, yes. I want to go to dinner with you," she told me, face flushed and I wasn't sure if it was from the orgasm, from excitement, from shyness, or a combination of all three.
"Good. That's settled then. I have a case tomorrow night. And then I have Sunday dinner the day after. Monday is a weird as fuck night for a date, but I'm free then." And, if it wasn't clear, fucking desperate.
"I don't have anything going on," she said, giving me a smile.
"Perfect then. Tell Fee to bring you something fancy. We can go rub elbows with the mafia at Famiglia."
"Wait... what?" she asked, brows furrowing. "The mafia? Like... cement shoes, mafia?"
"I know, you'd never know by looking at the Grassi guys. But they are mob through-and-through. That said, their restaurant is nice and the food is banging. So that's where we are going. Unless you don't like Italian, in which case, we might need to reconsider our compatibility," I teased. To that, her eyes went a little warm and I swear she mumbled something about 'potatoes' under her breath. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, smiling. "I was just remembering something Fee said earlier. Okay. Famiglia. Dress. What time?"
"Seven?"
"Oh, we should probably wait to see if they have a reservation," she said, wincing a bit at the idea of us having to put it off. "My mom and I wanted to go to celebrate her birthday once, but they didn't have any spots. Even two weeks out."
"Seven, baby," I told her, shrugging.
"You can't guarantee that."
"I can. Seven."
"Rush..."
"Trust me," I suggested. "Monday night at seven. We can..."
"Rush, since when do we lock Fiona out of the office?" Kingston's voice called, making Katie jolt hard, sliding the chair further away from me, like there was anything incriminating about our fully clothed conversation.
"Since she meddles in shit that is none of her business," I called back, waiting for it, knowing it was coming.
"Just because you two were too chickenshit to work out your problems without some nudging doesn't mean I'm meddling," Fiona called, heels clicking closer.
Then there they were. Fiona and King, the former looking proud of herself, the latter looking tired, but instantly more interested when his gaze fell on Katie.
"Think it's too late to call Mark and put more money on this thing?" he asked, making me laugh.
"Oh, please. If anyone is winning this one, it's me."
"What are they talking about?" Katie asked in a whisper.
"I will tell you all about the bullshit they're on over dinner."
"Oh, you're having dinner," Fee said beaming.
"Rush said you need to bring me something that works at Famiglia."
"Oh, fancy. Okay, we will discuss options on the way back to your place," she said, smiling at Katie.
"Oh, right. Yeah," Katie said, getting to her feet, whimpering.
"Fee, flat shoes," I called to her.
"Fiiine," she agreed."Kate, this is Kingston. King, Kate. Okay," Fee said, leading Katie out before Katie and King could even say hello to each other.
"So, that's her," King said when we were alone again, giving me a smirk.
"That's her," I agreed.
"You worked shit out?"
"Yeah. Mostly, anyway."
"I don't envy you this weekend," he said, shaking his head in sympathy. "Helen is going to be up your ass about meeting her."
"She's not ready for that," I said. "I think I'd have to ease her into the group like Ryan with Dusty."
"Oh, yeah, right. We're a lot when we all get together," he agreed. "And this week, Reagan is the one doing mettling. I swear they are all drinking the same Kool-Aid lately."
"Reagan is mettling with who?" I asked, knowing Atlas was off the grid, and the only other single members of the family were young to be messed with yet.
"That woman she works with. And her brother."
"Should be interesting," I agreed, hanging up the work phone, tucking my cell away.
"It always is," King agreed. "I'm glad you're working shit out with Kate," he said.
"Why?" I asked, pausing in the doorway.
"Because you've been a moody ass since you started here," he told me, smirking.
"I thought I was hiding it well."
"Yeah, well, you suck at that," he told me. "Go on. Go home. Get a good night of sleep for a change."
After I got home, climbed in the shower, and stroked one out to the memory of her wet pussy, I climbed in bed and finally did get a full night of sleep for a change.
Then spent the whole weekend eager as a kid anticipating his first date, his first fuck.
It didn't even bother me when the Mallick and Rivers crew ribbed me about my new girl, about what timeframe they'd hedged their bets on.
I had promised her Famiglia. And while my life had changed a lot since moving to Navesink Bank, and I was no longer a part of the underground world, I was connected to people who were still in the thick of it, calling in a favor to get us a reservation.
And it was right then that it hit me.
Something I had never considered before.
Because things had never gotten even somewhat serious with a woman in the past.
So it never came up.
My past.
What I used to do.
Who I used to be.
And because I had never needed to disclose that to a woman before, I had never been in this position before.
The one where I would be vulnerable.
Where a woman might decide she wanted nothing to do with me.
The idea of Katie thinking that was like a kick to the gut.
But, the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. She was a good girl, grew up in a good family, had always done the right things in life. Why the fuck would she want to wade around in the muck of my past with me?
By the time Monday evening rolled around, I had worked myself into knots over it.
But then I was at her apartment.
And she was in the door in that dress.
And any thoughts about my past, and her acceptance of it, or any thoughts at all completely disappeared.
Maybe she wouldn't want me past this one night.