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And maybe, if I have any input or think it’s a bad idea, he’ll listen to me. I just need to remind myself getting close to him is about information, and not because I can’t standnotbeing around him.
An hour later, walking up to him in the foyer, I have to scream the reminder in my head.
It's so hard to have been fucked within an inch of your sheltered life, and then stand before that person, wondering if you're supposed to pretend it didn't happen. Dressed in the sparkly blue evening gown and heels he lusted after, that's exactly what I do.
He looks like a tall sex god in his black Armani tuxedo with his dark hair perfectly rumpled. All of this makes it even harder because I now know heisa sex god.
“Where are we going?” I ask, casually, as he leads me through the front door to a waiting black Benz.
“Do you like the opera?”
My head whips to him. “You kidnapped me to take me to the opera?”
He cracks a smile. “No, but, I do have an associate I need to meet with there.” Then, his face grows serious. “So, no funny business tonight.”
I smile, wondering if he’s talking about attempted escapes and not bedroom funny business instead. “Scouts honor, I won’t run,” I say, sliding into the back of the car.
He quirks a brow before folding his tall body in beside me. “You’re still not a scout.”
I laugh a little to cover the nerves roiling in my belly when he sits close enough for his broad shoulder to graze against mine. “Promise, no running,” I tell him.
He studies my face for a moment, determining if I am in fact telling the truth. “Good.”
“I feel veryPretty Womanish tonight,” I admit, changing the subject.
“You look like her a little, with the wild auburn hair and brown eyes.” His blue eyes undress me. “But, you’re way prettier, like hot-as-fuck woman.”
I laugh. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Not joking at all,” he smirks.
The driver pulls away, maneuvering through the traffic congested streets, toward, I guess, the opera.
This all feels very much like a date. My first date, actually, now that I think about it. Losing my virginity at MECA wasn't to a boyfriend. No, it was to a hipster guy from my class, at a clambake party, just to get rid of it. The second time, same guy, was just to say the cherry popping wasn't my only experience. So, no wooing or dating ever took place.
We pull up in front of the LA Opera, and Xavier clutches my hand, leading me through a mob of people trying to get inside before the curtain lifts. We’re seated upstairs in our own private box, complete with our very own bottle of Cristal. I let out a deep breath of air. It’s exciting.
“Having a good time?” His thumb strokes lazy circles on my hand.
“Yes,” I say, truthfully.
“During the second act, someone will join us in here, and I’ll have a brief meeting with him.” He releases my hand. “Just enjoy the show and don’t pay attention to us.”
My mind spins with this information. Has he met me? That's like asking me not to breathe, but I smile. “No problem. You won't even know I'm here.”
He grins a little sexy, mischievous grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have a very good first act.”
The luxurious box shrinks to the size of a die. I blush. I'm not used to the overt sexuality. Actually, what I'm not used to is how much I like it.
And then before I know it, his hand wraps around my neck, and his lips are on mine. And he’s kissing me. And, my god, what a kiss. Every kiss is like the first time. I fear for a few seconds someone will see, but then the lights go down and a sweet melody wafts through the building.
Before the damsel in distress can even belt out her first chorus, Xavier pulls me closer and his hand lands on my thigh. Lust charges through me, and everything that could ever be right in this moment is.
Heaven and hell could crash into one another, and I wouldn’t notice.
Xavier’s hand traces the outside of my dress, over my legs, and then swoops underneath to travel his way up to the promised land. His diligent fingers trace the lining of my already soaked panties, and I am more than happy to give him a direct one-way ticket there. All signs point north. No passing go.
His kisses keep coming. Hungry, out-of-breath, torturing kisses all meant for me.
