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She watches the valet race to the stand.
I find the ticket in my pocket and hand it to the guy. Then he's off, running again, expected to hustle without breaking a sweat.
"This job must keep him in shape, huh?" Cassie asks. "Can you imagine running that much?"
"Can you imagine working a normal job?"
"I was a waitress for a year, you dick head." She play swats me again. "I was good at it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I never got orders wrong, and I gave great recommendations."
I tease her. "Oh, sir, I know you said you want a grilled cheese sandwich, but have you considered the Caprese melt? It's much more layered and sophisticated."
She smiles in that sheepish you got me way of hers.
The last hint of tension in my chest disappears. This is easy. The easiest thing in the world. "Maybe the sharp cheddar and fig jam instead."
"We didn't serve either of those," she says. "And when did you learn about cheese sandwiches?"
"I can barely cook. What else am I going to eat?"
She steps back enough to look me up and down. "This physique is made by cheese sandwiches?"
"Body by cheddar, yeah."
"No way." She presses her lips together. "Do you still have abs, right now? After actually eating all day?"
"Are you going to check?"
"If you're going to claim your six-pack is made of cheese, yeah." She reaches for the bottom button of my shirt.
My skin flushes from the brush of her fingertips. I need her touch. All of it. Everywhere.
The gesture is quick. She drops the shirt the second she hears footsteps.
A couple approaches the valet. No. Not any couple. Frederick and Tinsel. She's still swaying. He's holding her close, so she won't tumble to the ground in her high heels, but it looks more like he's snuffing out her light.
Asshole.
"They really timed that for you," I mutter under my breath.
She does the mature thing. Well, the slightly less immature thing. She leans into our ruse, sliding her arm around my waist, turning her back to her ex and his new paramour, pretending they aren't even here. "I talked to Laurel. She's got another ride home. So I gave her my key."
"Sure," I say.
"Are you good to drive?"
"Yeah. She made me the DD."
"And you listened?" She looks up at me with surprise. "When do you ever listen to that?"
"Today," I say.
"My favorite people." Tinsel's voice breaks the tension. She's still drunk. Very drunk. "Even if you're on track to win this job."
Frederick whispers something in her ear.
Cassie rises to her tiptoes to whisper something in mine. "Can I do this one more time?"
"Do what?"
"This." She brings her other hand to my chin and pulls me into a deep, slow kiss.
The second her lips hit mine, I forget we're on display. I sink into her. She sinks into me.
My hands go to her hips.
Her fingers skim my jaw.
My body hums with the sort of energy I only feel when I play piano. I'm lost in her. I want to stay lost in her forever.
I need to have more of her. All of her.
The beep of a horn breaks us apart.
The car. Shit.
The valet slides out of the driver's seat. I tip him and take the keys.
Cassie waves goodbye to her ex and his new girlfriend. She slides into the car and she reaches across the center console and interlocks her fingers with mine.
She stays that way as I drive away from the hotel. She stays that way for miles.
Eventually, she rests her head on the door, and she watches the city whiz by the windows. "Thanks, Damon."
"For what?"
"Tonight. You were the perfect partner."
"You too."
She stays there, thoughtful and quiet, until she falls asleep.
After I park, I carry her out of the car and into her room.
She stirs as I lay her down on her bed. I unzip her boots and peel them off her feet, one at a time.
"Hey." She looks up at me with a smile.
"Hey."
"Can you help me with this?" She rolls onto her side, pushes herself up, points to her zipper.
"Sure." I pull the thing down her back slowly. I try to keep the gesture platonic. Or professional, at least, but my fingers disobey my orders. They linger on her lower back.
When I release her, she turns to me. She lifts her hips and pushes the dress off her ass.
Cassie Steele, sitting on her bed, in only a pair of skin-tone panties.
Then she does away with those too.
She looks up at me with need in her gorgeous green eyes.
"Cass—" It's all I can say. It's right now, and we shouldn't, and I'll die if I don't touch you.
"Damon." She cups my cheek with her palm and runs her thumb over my temple. Then, in one swift motion, she swings her leg over mine and shifts onto my lap.
"We shouldn't," I say.
"I know." She presses her lips to mine. A soft kiss. A hint. "But I want to anyway."
