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"I'm not ready," I said, my own breath coming too fast.
"Yes, you are," he said and licked his fingers methodically, one at a time, his eyes not leaving mine. "You’re more than ready."
I shook my head and closed my eyes. "No," I whispered. "I'm not ready for this. For you. Not yet."
He said nothing, just pressed his forehead against mine. Soon his breathing and my breathing started to slow. I pulled down the skirt of my dress, which he hiked above my hips.
"Well, I'm ready for you." He stood up straight, and adjusted himself, a hand running briefly over his groin. I couldn't help but look down and saw the faint outline of his erection through the fabric of his trousers.
"Any time, Kate," he said, his voice low and husky. "You just have to sign the revised agreement I'm sending to you when I get home tonight." He turned away from me, his hands on his hips and took in a few deep breaths as if trying to calm himself. Then, he went to the door and opened it, pointing inside. "We better go back. Your father will be starting to worry about us."
I walked past him and back into the building.
He stopped and picked up my bag, which I dropped on the ground by the wall.
"Here," he said, and a smile cracked that mouth. "I really must have affected you if you forgot your bag."
I grabbed it from him, and quickly turned away. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of returning his smile of triumph.
We remained at the rear of the box for the rest of the performance and standing ovation, not wanting to interrupt, me leaning against the wall, Drake leaning over me, one hand on the wall beside my head, his eyes never leaving my face. He caught my eye and passed his fingers beneath his nose, inhaling deeply.
I glanced away, my cheeks heating at his so brazen reminder of how he had his fingers almost inside me. I waited for my father and Elaine to finish clapping. Finally, the applause died and they turned to us. My father smiled, his face bright.
"There you two are!" he said like a proud father of the bride, his gravelly voice ebullient. "I'm so glad Drake went to find you, Katherine. Did he help you calm down a bit? I know that song always gets to you."
No, father. He did anything but help me calm down. Quite the opposite. He had his tongue down my throat and his fingers up my pussy…
"I'm fine," I said, my voice low.
"Good good." My father rubbed his hands together. "Now, weren't you two going out for dinner? The Russian Tea Room, wasn't it, Drake?"
My father looked from me to Drake and back.
"That's right," Drake said. "We have reservations for two in about ten minutes. I could really eat something right now."
I caught Drake's eye and his half-grin half-smirk started, his blue eyes twinkling in that way. His words sent a thrill of lust right to my groin.
I handed him his jacket and he shrugged it on. Then, he took my coat from the hanger in our private closet and helped me with it, standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
His cologne lingered on my clothes and hair.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We walked to the limo that my father had waiting outside the hall and the driver took us to Drake's car, which was parked in a lot down the street.
We said our goodbyes to my father and his wife and Drake opened the passenger door for me. I got inside with reluctance. I just didn't want to go out alone with him, despite my frustrating physical attraction to him as a man.
The car was silent as we drove to the Russian Tea Room. Drake didn't even try to make light conversation to make me more comfortable, as if he wanted me off center, vulnerable.
Finally, I couldn't hold back. "You're not going to talk to me?"
"I'm too busy recovering from our little kiss."
"Little?"
He glanced at me, smiling. I made a face and turned away from him.
"For me it was little," he said. "Maybe for you it wasn't. I don't usually kiss a woman unless I'm in scene and I'm fucking her, so for me, that was nothing."
