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Instead of wanting to shrink, I sort of want to shout. As we walk across the small dance floor, it takes everything I can do not to bounce a couple of back flips, just to show off.
He gives me strength, I guess is what I'm saying.
As we sit, the way he is looking at me just lights me up even further. I love having his eyes on me, the way that his gaze skates across my skin, settling into the shadowed parts of me. I think this is what people call undressing you with their eyes. I feel it.
I mean, I don't feel it yet, but I'm starting to think I might.
He orders for us, and I just smile at the waitress as she squints me judgmentally. I don't mind. Yes, this is my very handsome man. Yes, I deserve this.
I do, right?
Yes, I do.
We talk for a little while about our lives, sharing things I don't know if I have ever shared with anyone. I get the feeling it's the same for him, that he probably doesn't talk about his life very much either. It makes me feel special that he would share this with me. That he’d share anything with me.
Maybe everything?
I tell him way too much, probably. I should probably be more cautious about telling somebody who obviously worked in military intelligence that my mother was deported for being a spy, or so they said. But to be honest, I don't think that's true. She got swept up in some kind of embezzlement scheme that her boss was executing, and because she was an immigrant from Russia, they just assumed that her conversations with my grandmother and other relatives were involved in the embezzlement. She told me they weren't, and I believe her.
I mean, I almost believe her. I want to, certainly. But since I've never been able to find her again…
Anyway.
As he's talking, I want to be closer and closer to him. I'm getting more and more nervous, more and more eager to touch my skin against his. I find myself tapping his arm every chance I get, trying to draw the connection even closer.
When he tells me that he hasn't had another woman in his life for five years, a cool breeze of relief rushes through me. I didn't even realize I was worried about that, but it is extremely nice to know that there's not another woman who's going to mysteriously pop up and wake me up out of this beautiful dream I'm having. It feels sort of clean, in a way. Like he's purer than I assumed. And almost seems impossible, because he's just so… handsome.
“Well, I've never, you know...” I falter, not sure how to explain it to him. His hazel eyes search mine, then narrow slightly. He's puzzling it out. He's curious what I mean.
I can see the realization dawn on him, almost watch it frame by frame like a movie in slow motion. As he realizes that he's the only man that's ever been in my life romantically, his expression moves from shock to something like… desperation.
He pulls on my arm, drawing me in close. His breath is hot and urgent in my ear.
“We need to leave, now,” he grunts, and I can smell that something has changed about him. Something has ripened into a feral, animal musk.
I wonder if everyone else can smell it too as we hurry out of the restaurant. He thrusts his claim ticket at the valet and grunts, not even seeming to care anymore what people think.
It makes me feel incredibly powerful. Look what I've done. He wants me, there’s no doubt about it.
All the way the home, I keep my hands stuffed between my thighs. I'm quaking with excitement, practically bursting.
He keeps his hand on my leg as he drives, sliding his fingers underneath the thin fabric in between shifting gears. He says almost nothing, completely focused on directing us back homeward.
As soon as the Aston Martin is back in its spot, he rushes around to my side and opens my car door again. I love that— what a gentleman he is. I stretch my legs out the door and his eyes follow them, then come back to meet mine.
“I love that dress on you,” he growls, the strain of desire clear in his voice.
I simply arch my back slightly, tapping my toes a little bit so he can look at me. My shyness is melting away, bit by bit. All I can think about now is letting him undress me, letting him take the thing I've never given to anyone before…
We rush upstairs, breathless and focused. When we get into his room, he suddenly stops.
“Okay, let me just… can you wait for just a moment?”
I shift from foot to foot uncertainly. “Yes, of course,” I stammer, confused.
He bolts from the room, returning in a few moments with pillar candles and a long, automatic lighter. I press my fingers to my lips to keep from laughing as he places them around the room, lighting each one impatiently.
“Are you laughing?” he asks me. “Is this sort of ridiculous?”
