“Then what is it?”
“I watchedOld Flametoday.”
With my body literally on his, it was impossible to miss the way he braced. His brow rose, but his expression and tone were otherwise blank as he murmured, “Oh?”
“You were really good. Like, really,reallygood.”
He relaxed. “Glad you think so.”
With all the praise he’d received over the role, I didn’t expect my inadequate compliment to mean much, but I was wrong. His words were genuine, as was the small smile he gave me that crinkled his eyes.
“That doesn’t explain why you’ve been staring at me since I picked you up,” he added.
And I had. I’d known that I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way, and it had nothing to do with being starstruck. Impressed with his talent, sure. But my reaction stemmed from him just being him. From what we’d done the night before. From knowing there was all that intensity beneath his easy-going surface.
But mostly, I hadn’t been able to stop imagining what it would be like to watch him touch himself the way he’d done outside of the cottage in the movie.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat. When that did nothing, I reached for my drink. Tripp got to it first, holding it out of reach as he waited expectantly.
“Please, Sir,” I tried.
He handed it to me, and I took a few large sips to settle my nerves.
It did exactly nothing.
I lowered the glass, and Tripp took it from my hold to set it back on the table.
One of the blank-faced servers suddenly appeared. “Another tequila?”
“No, thank you,” I said since that small amount of alcohol was settling in my stomach about as well as magma in a plastic bowl.
The server didn’t respond to me. He didn’t look at me. He stayed right where he was, only leaving once Tripp shook his head.
I glared at his retreating back before Tripp’s arm banded tighter around me. He ran his large hand along the silky fabric of my black dress until it rested just under the curve of my breast. Lowering his head so his mouth was at my ear, his lips skimmed its shell as he explained, “While you’re here, no one will talk to you. Not without my okay.”
“Is that a rule for everyone?” I asked.
“No. It depends on the kind of relationship they have. Sometimes, it’s the man who can’t be spoken to. For others, neither have any limitations.”
“But I have a limitation?” I surmised since he hadn’t told the server otherwise.
“Correct.”
It was ridiculously over the top and caveman-esque and unnecessary.
And so hot, I was fairly certain my arousal was going to ruin my panties.
I scanned the room through new eyes. Some groups sat together and talked, but there were a fair number of guests who seemed separated by an invisible bubble—including Tripp and me. I’d been surprised when we’d first sat that no one came to talk to him. I’d chalked it up to the privacy and discretion that was likely guaranteed with the high fees, along with the fact most members were successful in their own right. There was no reason to fawn amongst peers.
The truth was much more tantalizing, and a tremor went through me that was far from unpleasant. Tripp didn’t miss it. Using his hold, he repositioned me so I could feel the long, thick evidence that he was just as affected by his words as I was.
It was almost enough to distract me from the very important conversation we needed to have.
Almost.
“We need to talk,” I forced out.
“Once we’re in a room.”
