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After taking down another oyster, she opened one eye slightly, wide enough to see me watching her.
“You OK over there?” She followed up her words with a quick sip of wine and a skeptical regard.
“I’m more than OK. I like a woman who isn’t afraid of enjoying her meal.”
She held my gaze for a moment, following it up with a soft, wry laugh.
“Food’s good; what can I say?”
I decided that the pleasantries had gone on long enough. As much as I was enjoying just spending time with Claire, I needed to know what exactly she was after. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind. This is what our little lunch is about, after all—getting to know one another.”
“Well, I’m not about to make myself an open book to someone I’ve only just met, especially someone who had no problem lying to me about his name.”
“You don’t need to tell me everything, that would ruin the mystery.”
Another beat passed. “Fine. I don’t come from the best part of town; I’m a Southie, through and through.”
“Now, that’s a surprise.”
“We didn’t have much growing up. Dad was sick all the time, had trouble holding down jobs. Mom did her best, but there was only so much that one woman could do, you know? So, there were times when it wasn’t totally clear how much food was going to be in the pantry when I came home from school.”
There was clearly much, much more to Claire than what she was letting on. I didn’t press the matter, however.
“Anyway,” she went on. “When wedidhave food, it was always the kind of crappy, processed stuff that we’d get from food banks. I’m grateful for it, don’t get me wrong. But it wasn’t the tastiest food in the world, you know? I think that’s why whenever I get a chance to eat something good, I don’t screw around taking teensy, tiny little bites. I go for it, eat my fill. If anyone has an opinion on it, then screw ‘em.”
I couldn’t help but grin at her attitude.
“Very admirable. Not giving a damn what other people think is a rare trait.”
“Life’s too short for shit like that,” she replied. “You have to figure out what you want, then you go for it. You spend a minute wasting time, wondering whether or not if people approve of what you’re doing, you’re going to fall behind. Not to mention… why live for what other people want from you? It’s almost like you’re living a lie, right?”
The smile still on my face, I took my glass and lifted it.
“A woman after my own heart.”
She latched her eyes on my glass, then her own, as if trying to decide whether or not this was worthy of a cheers. Finally, she lifted her glass and brought it to mine.
“Slainte.”
With that, the conversation began to flow. We ate and drank and discussed more about ourselves. The subject of books led to film, that led to art, and that led to everything else. Although initially I’d brought her to lunch to wine her, dine her, and get her into bed… well, that, and get more information on just who the hell she was. But the longer I spoke with Claire the more I felt a certain connection, something between us growing that went beyond the instant physical desire I held.
Innuendos began to pepper the conversation—signaling to me that she was just as interested in me as I was in her. Using body language, I leaned toward her and she did the same, my cock pulsing hard underneath the table. I wanted her like mad.
By the time we’d finished dessert, I was beyond eager to get her back into the car.
“Shall we?” I asked, the meal over.
“We shall.” The smile on her face was warm, inviting. I could sense her walls falling over the course of the conversation, and by the time I took her hand to lift her from her seat, the smile on her face let me know that she had the same thing on her mind that I did.
We left the restaurant, the doors locking behind us as we approached the waiting car. I opened the door for her and she slid in, my eyes locked onto her gorgeous ass in that purple dress.
I felt like a beast on a leash, nothing on my mind other than getting her out of that dress and underneath me. When I moved into the car next to her, shutting the door softly behind us, the sensual, inviting look on Claire’s face said it all.
She sat back with confidence, her legs crossed, her arms draped over the back of the seat.
“So,” she said casually. “What’s next on the agenda?”
I answered her question with action, not words. With one smooth movement, I crossed the space between us and pounced. A soft sigh came from her mouth as I sealed her lips shut with a kiss.
