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I shook my head. I couldn’t tear my eyes off him.
Why did that make me wild? The idea of him pleasuring himself to a picture of me got to me in all kinds of ways.
He thought about me when he wasn’t with me. Before that picture I’d been so sure I was completely forgettable to him. Less than an afterthought. Easier to wipe from his mind than the damp circle left by his morning coffee.
“Do you know how many other men must have seen that picture before it was taken down, and did the exact same fucking thing?” His tone was different suddenly. Switched from seductive to mean. Holy mood swing.
It dawned on me then that this was another dressing down. He’d just taken his time getting there.
“I didn’t think it showed that much,” I spoke as quietly as I could. I didn’t want anyone we were with to realize that my husband was chewing me out. My pride had taken enough of a beating with this crowd. “I covered everything.”
“Don’t do it again,” he warned.
“Okay,” I said. A plaintive note slipped into my voice as I added, “We already went over this, you know.”
He leaned forward, suddenly animated. “My wife posted a nude selfie online for the world to see. For every creep in the world to jerk off to. Excuse me if I feel the need to go over it twice.”
“It’s been erased,” I pointed out.
He gave me a pointed look. “I saved it the second I saw it, and so did countless other people.”
We stared at each other for a long, strange moment. Why did the fact that he’d saved a picture of me hit me straight in the gut? It didn’t mean anything. He was probably just saying it to prove a point. “Did you really?” I asked, my voice little more than a whisper.
He cleared his throat. “Forget it. Just use a little sense next time.”
“Got it,” I replied.
He leaned close.
My eyes were on his lips. They were so plump. I reached a fingertip up to touch them. And so soft.
He moved closer. “Let’s go dance.” It wasn’t a request.
I nodded and he stood, holding out his hand. I took it.
He told the group that he was taking me dancing. We received several toasts into the air in response.
He led me out of the booth, across the private room, and through a doorway that led to a much more crowded club.
An attractive hostess met us at the door and led us to another, smaller VIP booth in a corner of the main club.
Calder kept hold of my hand, pulling me close behind him.
I glanced back once to find Chester trailing us. I don’t know why, but it made me blush. I’d forgotten he was there.
We sat and the hostess fixed us drinks. I tried to order more champagne (which he switched to OJ), and he ordered bourbon.
We were sitting close, hips touching. I turned my head to meet his gaze. My eyes devoured his handsome face. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
“I thought we were dancing,” I remarked.
It was much louder in here, and he had to lean his ear close to my mouth to catch my words.
He leaned back just enough to look at me, then put his lips to my ear to answer, “We are. In a minute.”
“Will we dance right here or over there?”
He pulled back enough to see my face.
