“Not a bad plan,” Damien says as we both look in Aubert’s direction.
He’s shifted in his chair, and I can see more of the man now. His dark hair sits in tight curls close to his head, and he sports a mustache so thin it could have been drawn with eyeliner. The blonde bathed in jewels tosses back her head and laughs as the other woman continues to study her phone.
“Looks like a celebration,” I say.
“It is,” Red says. “Aubert’s a jeweler. Designer.”
“We know,” I say. “Not as famous as his father—”
“But trying to get there,” Red finishes for me. “And he’s just acquired a red beryl. It’s in the hotel safe.”
“The hotel safe?” Damien asks at the same time that I ask, “What’s a red beryl?”
Red answers Damien first. “A seriously intense vault, from what my dad told me when the place was under construction. Aubert wanted it in the hotel instead of on the ground floor. Another level of safety, I guess.” He shrugs. “Also, the plan is for the hotel to appeal to the extremely wealthy. With such a small number of rooms, it will have to. So security is a big deal.”
“All part of the PR,” Damien says. “I get it.”
“And the red beryl?”
Red turns to me. “One of the world’s rarest and most valuable gemstones. I hear this one is seven carats. He’s creating a setting for it, and apparently there’s already a buyer on the hook. That woman with Aubert? She’s supposed to model it at his grand opening event in a week.”
“Wow.”
“So the bar has different ownership than the hotel?” Damien asks, less fascinated by this stone than I am.
“And dry run means the bartender comes out to mingle?” I add.
Red chuckles. “Yes to the first. As to the other, nah, that’s just my style.”
“Who’s the owner? You mentioned your father.”
“William Cooper. I told him I wanted a night behind the bar, and he was happy to oblige. I figured he’d stay around and keep an eagle eye on me but turns out he has a lady friend.” His smile widens. “Go figure.” He glances around, then waves at the table with the awkward couple. “You two doing okay? Your appetizers will be right out.” He taps our table, his attention returning to us. “I’ll get your drinks over and your order in. Meantime, shout if you need anything.”
We assure him we will, then I lean against Damien as I watch Red walk away. “That’s a guy who likes his job.”
“Seems to be,” Damien says.
I turn to him as he scoots further into the booth. “What? You don’t think so?”
“No, not that. I just—I just wouldn’t take him for a bartender at all.” He lifts a shoulder. “C’est la vie.”
“Mr. Stark. Can you be losing your edge about reading people?”
He slides even further, urging me along with him so that we are all the way in the booth. “So long as I haven’t lost my ability to read you, I’m not going to worry too much about it.”
“Oh? Well, maybe we ought to test that. Try to read me now.”
“Hmm.” He shifts to face me more directly. “You, Mrs. Stark, want me to kiss you.”
I tug on his tie, urging his face closer to mine. “Amazing,” I say. “You’re exceptionally gifted.”
I brush a kiss over his lips, then sit back and simply watch him watching me. “What?” I finally say when I catch the hint of humor flashing in his eyes.
“Just thinking that if this were our pre-parenting years I would have made a point of getting you worked up right here, right now. Simply because I can.”
“Oh, really?” I don’t say so, but those words alone are going a long way toward doing that very thing.
“Mmm,” he says, resting his palm on my thigh. I’m still wearing the same outfit from earlier; we both are. Since this is only an overnight trip and our dinner restaurant is casual, there didn’t seem to be any reason to bring yet another change of clothes. Now, the heat of his palm on my bare thigh seeps into me, warming me in the kind of way that almost makes me wish we hadn’t ordered anything but room service.
“Tell me more.”
His thumb moves back and forth, slowly teasing my skin as he leans closer and whispers, “What would you do if I told you to take off your panties and spread your legs?”
I lick my lips, my core already throbbing with need. “I’d tell you that I wasn’t wearing any.”
His throat moves, and I silently congratulate myself. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting that answer. “God, Nikki. I do love you.”
“I know,” I say, then uncross my legs and spread my thighs. I know that the tablecloth is keeping us hidden from view, and the bar is mostly empty. Even so, it’s still public, and that knowledge heightens the sensuality of the moment. So much that I can barely keep from squirming, desperately trying to find satisfaction even though I know it won’t come until Damien finally touches me.
My phone lights up, and I see that the call is from Abby, my partner in my software company, Fairchild & Partners Development, and there is no way in hell I’m answering that call right this second.
I grab the phone and slip it into my bag. Then I turn and look defiantly at Damien, as if I expect him to criticize me for wanting this—him—so much that I’m blowing off my partner.
But all he says is, “Do you remember Germany?”
I frown. Of course I remember Germany. He’d been on trial for murder. Not something either one of us is likely to forget.
“Do you remember the club?” he asks, not waiting for my answer. “That nightclub I took you to. You in that ridiculously short skirt. That sofa, right in the open. You straddled me, baby. Right there, where anyone watching would have known exactly how I was touching you—and just how much you were enjoying it.”
“I would have stripped naked for you that night,” I admit.
“You liked the danger. Being under my command.”
“I still do.”
“I know,” he says. He waits a beat, then lifts my hand. Slowly, he sucks on my finger, sending a heated thread of pleasure shooting from my mouth all the way down to my pussy. “Touch yourself.”
“What?” I wasn’t expecting that, but even I can hear the excitement in my voice. This is something new.
“You heard me, baby. I want to watch you come.”
Chapter Six
I want to watch you come.
Those words shouldn’t hold such power over me. But they do. I feel as if I’m melting into the leather bench. As if there’s nothing in this world I’m supposed to do except experience the pleasure of watching my husband watch me.
That’s part of what’s so remarkable. Husband. So many times I think that we’ve moved past that intense sensuality that marked our early years together. That wild, almost feral need for each other. We have children now. Playdates and pre-school, dance lessons and birthday parties. We have work and Disney movies. And our master bedroom that used to have all manner of sensual toys tucked away within easy reach now has a chair that plays home to a few stuffed animals, and those adult toys are locked away in a chest under the bed.