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He squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his temples. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You understand Antonio would rise from his grave and tear my dick off for even contemplating it?”
Ah, but you are contemplating it, she thought, a surge of exhilaration rushing through her when he opened his eyes and focused on her. She’d seen that look in a man’s eyes before, but never really known what to do with it.
It’s working. Holy shit. He’s going to say yes. Time to seal the deal. “I want more than sex,” she said. “I want your passion, your enthusiasm. This is something only you can do right, Jack.”
“I’m sure I could,” he said, thoughtfully, rubbing the scruff of his chin. “That’s not the question.”
She understood. Of course he can do it; this is Jack Bennett we’re talking about. The question is not can he, but does he want to?
“Think it over, and let me know,” she said, standing and picking up her clutch. They hadn’t eaten—hell they hadn’t even ordered—but there was no way she could force down food after a conversation like this one. It was time to make her exit and hope she left Jack wanting more.
As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her ass, and a shaky anticipation bubbled inside her. Part of it was fear. What if he never wanted to speak to her again? Who would she have left?
But the larger part was arousal. What if he says yes?
Chapter 3
Central Park on this balmy spring Sunday was filled with joggers getting in their daily run, families enjoying picnics, and couples out for strolls with baby carriages. Jack sat on a bench, inhaling the scent of artisanal grilled cheese, fish tacos, and organic vegetarian kebabs in the shade of the food trucks. He normally came here during the work week to get a quick lunch, and squeeze in a visit with his friend Stella, who had turned her passion into her business with a small fleet of food trucks, before heading back to the office.
He didn’t normally swing by on Sundays, but today was anything but normal. After what happened at brunch, he wondered if he would ever feel normal again.
What. The. Hell.
What was supposed to have been a nice, casual Sunday meal had quickly turned Through the Looking Glass crazy, throwing his ordered world into chaos. He should have known from the provocative way Eva was dressed that something, other than his dick, was up. But even if he had, he never would have guessed that she wanted him to teach her how to please a man.
Not Eva. Pure, perfect Eva. She didn’t need the sexy outfit. She didn’t need to rub his leg or bat her eyelashes in his direction. She’d always been a mirage—beautiful, but completely, impossibly out of reach. He’d be lying if he said the idea of her hadn’t fluttered in the back of his brain—she was a gorgeous woman who was a pleasure to be around when she wasn’t giving him high blood pressure—but he’d never allowed it to take root.
Until now. Now that she was asking him—no, begging him—to fuck her.
His cock thickened, making him shift uncomfortably on the bench.
Even knowing the chokehold Antonio had put on his baby sister’s social life, it was hard to believe that she needed a sexual education—men had a way of getting to women as beautiful as Eva, come hell or high water. If she had been anyone but his best friend’s little sister, he certainly would have. He would have already taught her how good a man could make her feel and left no doubt in her mind that she was the stuff erotic dreams were made of.
Suddenly, Jack found himself imagining leading Eva somewhere private and stripping off her blouse, kissing those luscious tits of hers, making her moan. He wanted to taste her, to discover the flavor of her kiss, to make her gasp as his tongue swept across her golden skin for the first time. He would work his way up those shapely, toned legs, kissing her thighs, spreading her open, baring her to his mouth. He could almost hear the way she would cry out as he tasted her wetness.
Oh, she would taste delicious. He was sure of that. She’d be heaven on his tongue.
&nbs
p; A movement to his right suddenly caught his eye. He turned to see a familiar blonde in a ponytail stepping through the doorway of the blue Stella’s Sweets truck on the other side of the roundabout. “Hey, there, stranger,” Stella said, waving at him. “What are you doing here on a Sunday? Let me guess, you couldn’t keep away from my whoopie pies.”
He held out his hands, guilty as charged, and grinned at her. “Something like that.”
Stella jogged over to meet him at the bench and laid a paper boat with a giant pie on his knee. “For you.” She paused, brows drawing together as she scanned his face. “Wow, you look like shit. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe something.”
Stella studied him. She’d been the closest thing to a best friend he’d had since Antonio’s accident last fall, when they’d spent days keeping vigil in the hospital waiting room, praying for a miracle that didn’t happen. “Definitely something. I’ve never known one of my whoopie pies to last this long in your presence.”
Yes, her whoopie pies were legendary, as was everything she whipped up. Stella hadn’t graduated top of her class at Le Cordon Bleu and become the owner of a fleet of food trucks for nothing. He chuckled, then took a bite. He hadn’t had a thing to eat at brunch, unable to fathom forcing eggs benedict down his throat after Eva had dropped her sex bomb in his lap.
After the first bite, he realized how famished he was and polished off the whole thing. “You up for a walk?” he asked mere minutes later, licking the last chocolate crumbs from his fingertips.
“Sure.” She untied her apron, wadding it into a ball and tossing it to the teenager in the truck. “Hold the fort. I’ll be back.”
Despite the many roles she juggled—cook, businesswoman, customer service rep—Stella was an easy-going, agreeable person. She’d always been that way, especially in bed. She and Jack had been lovers for about six months in grad school, before she dropped out of the business program to pursue her dream of culinary world domination. They’d been good together, but there had never been any question that they wanted different things. Jack wasn’t up for emotional entanglements and Stella had been in love with Antonio—secretly, deeply, desperately. So after their initial fling, Stella and Jack had been friends, strictly friends.
He was grateful for that, now. Grateful that there was still someone in the world he could turn to on the rare occasions when life surprised him.
