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She laughs and sniffs at the same time. ‘He’s a good guy, and he really is just a friend.’
‘I know what you do with your friends,’ I say. Smiling to let her know it’s a joke this time. Thankfully, she takes it as such. ‘You’re more of a distraction to me when you’re not around, Becky. So, I’d like you to be around.’
‘I want to be around you too, but I… I can’t be in a relationship right now. There are things…’ She sighs, and I know she won’t finish that sentence.
I take the glass from her hands and place it on the bar table closest to us. I take her cheeks in my palms, and I’m staring down at those red lips, wanting desperately to take her to bed.
‘Then how about we spend time together? We keep having fun. And we don’t label it; we don’t make it a thing. We don’t go nuts at each other for working late or not being available. We just do whatever comes naturally to us and leave it at that?’
‘I don’t know, Drew. I… The timing is not good: horrible, in fact. But I don’t think I have the strength to stay away from you. And… what feels natural to me…’ She bites her bottom lip and one side of my mouth lifts.
‘I know. Me too. So, maybe we’re friends who fool around sometimes. At least for now.’
Her lips curl. ‘You New York folk are weird. This all sounds a bitSex and the Cityto me.’
I take a step back from her. ‘Whoa! You want to have sex with me? Slow down, Samantha.’
She throws her head back on a laugh, her neck elongated, her eyes bright. She’s exquisite.
I grab her hand and pull her to me. ‘Are we good?’
‘We’re good.’
‘Want to go inside and meet my friends?’
She nods. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Come on then.’ With my hand around hers, I start to leave the rooftop, but she pulls me back.
‘First though, I want to do something that feels natural to me.’ She rises onto her tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine. I take hold of her nape and part her lips with my tongue until she groans. Her hands roam my back, and her fingertips dig into my hips.
Reluctantly, I break our connection and lean down to her ear.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s going to feel natural to me to take you home tonight. This dress.’ I run my fingers down her spine. Pimples rise on her skin under my touch. ‘These heels.’ I slide a hand up her thigh, stopping just under the hem of her dress. I kiss her once more and lead her back to the booth.
At the table, I introduce Becky properly and the others pretend we didn’t act out something from Oprah on the balcony. It takes less than a minute for the guys to start regaling Becky with stories of my college days. Needless to say, they don’t paint me in the best light. The recurring themes seem to be booze, women – the few crash and burns, because why would they want to brag about my conquests – and sporting disasters.
‘I was also a cool guy,’ I tell Becky, unable to hide my own amusement. I casually drop an arm around her shoulders without thinking. I contemplate moving it but when she leans into my side, I decide to leave it there.
‘So, Becky, I hear you’re ripe to steal Edmond’s kitchen,’ Kit says. ‘Edmond says you’re the best raw talent he’s seen in a long time.’
She tilts her head to one side, toward me, and tucks her hair behind her ear. I lean in to her temple and whisper. ‘You need to learn how to take a compliment.’
‘Well, that’s kind of him,’ she says, smiling at Edmond. ‘But he’s my knight in shining armor. When a man has rescued you as many times as Edmond has me, you don’t thank him by taking his spot.’
The look Edmond gives her is so warm and fond that my liking for him increases tenfold.
‘You did everything for yourself,’ he says.
I’m also struck by something that I would like to think is curiosity but that may even be jealousy. I want to know more about Becky. I want to understand what gives her the strength to fight the feelings between us. And, yeah, I want to be the one to rescue her from whatever she needed rescuing from.
When did that happen?
When 2 a.m. rolls around, Madge and Kit declare they are ‘pooped’, in Madge’s words. Edmond also calls time to get home to his wife and kids. As we’re saying our goodbyes, a redhead I recognize from a few other occasions comes up to Marty, pushing herself subtly – but not so subtly that I miss it – against his arm. I manage to count to six in my head before they move to the dance floor, which is now full. Like all of Jerome’s clubs, he keeps the door count low enough that it’s not like a sweat shop when he brings in his top DJs for a set late in the night – or morning.
Sarah, Brooks, Becky and I order another bottle of champagne. I don’t mind admitting I’m starting to feel that buzz and with it, an increasing desire to be touching Becky. The hand she dropped to my thigh five minutes ago tells me she’s feeling it too. The tension between us is mounting, and I’d like to take her to bed. The longer we wait this out. Touching. Drinking. The more intense it’s going to be when I finally get her there.
‘Say, Brooks, when was the last time you showed me your moves?’ Sarah asks.
