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“You really don't want to do this,” I tell him.
“And why's that?”
“Partly because you're making her uncomfortable,” I growl, staring daggers through him. “But mostly because you're only going to embarrass yourself.”
We stand there, practically nose to nose for a long minute, the promise of violence thick in the air. Half-drunk though he might be, the guy obviously realizes that he's outmatched and will take a beating if he tests me.
“Whatever. She's not worth it anyway,” he slurs. “I can find better chicks charging hourly rates walking the strip.”
I move so fast, the man doesn't have time to prepare for it. My fist slams into his gut with a dull thud and he doubles over, clutching his stomach as he gasps and wheezes. The commotion draws the attention of some of the patrons. A moment later, a couple of men in blue blazers – obviously hotel security staff – rush in.
“He's had a little too much to drink,” I tell them. “He was harassing my date. Get him out of here.”
The guards grab the guy by the shoulders and drag him out of the lounge, no doubt on their way to throw him out the front doors of the hotel. After they leave, I slide back into the booth and pick up my drink. Emily is looking at me with a mixture of horror and arousal in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says. “I – I've never had somebody defend me like that before.”
“No need to thank me. He was a punk and he was way out of line,” I reply. “You didn't deserve that. And besides, he shouldn't have been hitting on you in the first place – you're mine.”
There's a look of stunned shock on her face, but it quickly gives way to something warmer. A slow smile touches her lips and there's a twinkling in her eye.
“You know, when you say that, it's not nearly as creepy as when Robert does.”
“I'm glad you think so.”
I laugh, but the reminder of her ex is a bit of a splash of cold water to the face. He’s a reality we're still going to have to deal with one way or the other – just not right now. No, right now is reserved for the two of us. And I plan to enjoy every second of it.
“I've never seen you be such a – caveman,” Emily giggles.
I give her a flirty smile. “Can I club you over the head and drag you back to my room?”
Her laughter fills me with warmth. “If you're lucky and play your cards right,” she tells me.
I signal for the waitress to bring us a fresh round of drinks. We're sitting in an executive lounge – it's a quieter place meant for people who want to have a drink and be able to hear themselves talk. The lighting is dim, the music low, and there's definitely a classy vibe about the place. This is not the type of lounge you go to if you want to get wasted and raise hell. Which is exactly what I wanted.
The waitress brings our drinks by. I raise mine to Emily. “To you. And to us,” I toast. “And I just wanted to tell you how absolutely ravishing you look in that dress tonight.”
“Thank you,” she blushes and taps her glass against mine. “To us.”
We sip our drinks and fall into a pattern of easy conversation. Over the next couple of hours and I don't even know how many drinks, we share stories about our lives –our victories and triumphs, as well as our failings. I learn so much I didn't know about her – and I'm sure it's vice versa. The conversation goes from light to heavy and back again. Through it all, I feel us drawing closer together. The bond between us growing even stronger.
As we gaze at each other, the candlelight on the table making her eyes twinkle like honey in the sun, I feel the desire within me rising and a swelling in my groin. Emily has a profound effect on me. She stimulates both my body and mind – and I can't seem to get enough of her. I always find myself wanting more.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Just admiring you,” I reply. “Soaking in your beauty.”
Even in the dim lighting, I can see her flush. “Stop.”
“I won't,” I declare and take her hand in mine. “I won't ever stop telling you just how beautiful you are. Because it's the truth. You're absolutely exquisite, Emily. In every way.”
She laughs softly, clearly embarrassed. But when she looks up at me, I can see a look of appreciation in her face. She may be embarrassed by it, but she clearly enjoys being complimented. But I get the feeling that she doesn't hear it very often. Or at least, not as often as she should.
“Trying to flatter your way into my panties, Aaron?”
“Is it working?”
She shrugs, a flirty smile on her lips. “Maybe.”
