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“Who were you waiting for?” he asks.
Disappointment stabs at my chest, and I’m not going to tell him I was stood up. I don’t want to look like a loser in front of him.
“No one, can’t a girl grab a drink by herself?”
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and I tear my eyes away from his tanned arms. “Not when she’s sitting by herself.”
My stomach makes an angry growl, and Jasper shoots me a disappointed look.
The same bartender from earlier stares at me, waiting for me to order, so I swallow thickly and I say, “I want raw oysters and a glass of water, please.”
Jasper rattles off his order, then the bartender leaves.
I usually avoid him at all costs because the last time I actually spent time with him, we had a one-night stand. He fucked me so good and I was on cloud nine for days. I still feel the essence of him inside of me. For someone who moves with grace and elegance, he fucks so raw and primal, like it’s a need he can’t live without.
He studies my face like a map, taking in every feature, and his eyes zero in on my lips before making their way to my hazel orbs. “You need to be well nourished for tonight.”
The bartender sets my water in front of me, and I sip lazily from the straw, cocking my eyebrow.
“What happens tonight?”
The corner of his mouth turns up, and the waiter sets his drink on the table. “We’re fucking.”
For several seconds, his words steal all the air from my lungs. Every ounce of me screaming no, but it’s been so long since I’ve been held by a man, and right now, I want to forget the empty hole inside my chest. Plus, Jasper is a phenomenal lover. He knows his way around a vagina and is the best lover I’ve ever had.
I shouldn’t even entertain the idea of us sleeping together, but I feel like this evening will be wasted. I’m torn and I don’t want to complicate my life more than I already have. Jasper is known to be a playboy and he was caught in a scandal with a supermodel not too long ago. He’s always splattered across the blogs with a new woman on his arms. Which should turn me off, but it doesn’t. Sex is liberal. Who cares he’s been with half of New York City—plus, we’ve already fucked.
He continues to sip his bourbon as the bartender places my food in front of me.
“I thought you only slept with women one time.”
At least that’s what I read in gossip columns. I grab the shell, use a silver fork to dig the oyster out, place it on my tongue, and swallow. The minute the food hits my stomach, it warms my belly.
He places his callous finger on my cheek, and my face flushes. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”
At least this night won’t end in vain.
My core tingles and arousal pools in my lower belly.
The entire time, Jasper doesn’t take his eyes off me, as if he’s trying to capture every moment, every expression, and my cheeks can’t burn hotter.
Once I finish my last oyster, I slip off the barstool, and Jasper places his hand in mine, leading me to his Aston Martin.
He opens the passenger door, allowing me to slip inside, strapping the seat belt over my frame. Even the leather seat feels dominant and alluring like him.
When he rests his hand on my thigh, he gently strokes it, and his touch alone heats my skin.
I need to draw the line between us, tell him we can’t do this again. He can’t be a distraction from me finding a fake fiancé. Jasper isn’t the type to settle down, so me asking him to pretend to be my fake fiancé isn’t up for discussion.
“This will be our last hookup, Jasper.”
He smiles, drumming his finger on the steering wheel, but doesn’t respond.
I scrunch my nose and take his silence as if he doesn’t agree. “I’m serious. We run in the same circles. Your best friend is married to mine. We can’t complicate things between us.”
He raises an arrogant brow and smirks. “Me sticking my dick inside you complicates things?”
I shake my head, then sigh. “Yes. No… I don’t know. Well… We said we weren’t going to sleep with each other again.”
