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With a few pats of my hand against his crisp white shirt, I reassure him, “I’m sure everything will be fine. Come on.”
Reaching the table, he asks the elderly woman seated there if DJM has turned up, but before she can answer, I step up beside him and say, “Ah! Actually … I’m here.”
The expletive that bursts from his mouth is loud and clear when he spins in my direction. Honestly, his expression would be laughable if it didn’t feel like this was turning into my worst nightmare.
“Surprise,” I mumble, trying to smile but presuming the attempt looks more like a grimace.
But then he places his hands on my cheeks and bends his head to kiss me briefly on the lips. Blinking several times, I search for something to say. But there’s nothing coming out of my open mouth. He kisses me again, this time lingering, and everything else fades into the shadows with his touch.
“Thank you,” he murmurs only a few inches away from my face, his hands still warm against my skin. Our eyes lock like magnets, each daring the other to look away first. “But, D, I would have taken you on a date for free. You only had to ask.”
“I’m asking,” I admit in a low unsteady voice.
The lady at the desk clears her throat loudly. “Excuse me, but could I ask you to sign the terms and conditions. Although it looks like it may not be necessary.”
Jason immediately drops his hands to his side, but the warm imprint of his palms remains behind on my skin.
Heat rushes to my cheeks at her implication, and I take the piece of paper she’s holding out to me.
Jason places his hand on my lower back and, in a low, gruff voice close to my ear, says, “You might want to read that carefully. I wouldn’t want to be taken advantage of.”
“You wish,” I tell him, a smile dancing around my lips.
“Absolutely.” The timbre of his voice is gravelly, and the pen in my hand shakes when I sign the paper.
The lady glances at the machine. “Okay, and the transfer has been completed successfully. He’s all yours.”
Jason grins down at me. “You heard the lady. I’m all yours.” He holds his hands out, offering himself to me.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, it suddenly feeling very dry.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Could we go somewhere else a little less crowded?”
“My place?” I offer, and he nods.
Jason Carlson is taking me home. I feel like I need to pinch myself. Over the last year, I’ve wondered on numerous occasions what it would feel like to be one of the women who caught Jason’s attention. And here he is, looking at me with such focus my insides have become a pit of bubbling desire. It’s been so long since a man has looked at me in that way that I think I might be imagining things. Too much champagne or too many nights dreaming of exactly this scenario. But there’s no denying the way my lips still tingle from his kiss. Pulling my shoulders back, I feel his large hand back on my hip, and this time, I slip my own arm around his waist, under his jacket. This is so much better than my imagination.
After the night of Katie’s birthday party in London, I owed it to myself to find out if the friendship between Jason and I could be more. I was no longer going to let the loss of my brother and the bad decisions I made in the aftermath ruin my future. I’ve lost enough years already. And here we are, walking arm in arm back to the table.
Oh, damn. We’re walking back to the table where his cousins and my boss are all sitting. I drop my arm from his waist and put some space between us. Jason thankfully follows my lead.
***
As I turn the key to open my apartment door, the snick of the lock sounds overly loud in the silence of the carpeted hallway. Although it could be my head that is lending the sound importance. Tonight, stepping over the threshold with Jason feels different from any of the dozens of times he’s been to my place in the past.
The butterflies are back, and they’ve bought friends. I can’t remember the last time I brought a man home with the intention of having sex. It’s been that long. But I can remember making the choice to stop picking up the wrong men, though at the time, I never thought that decision would mean my body would remain a man-free wasteland for so many years. Thank God for my trusty vibrator and a bundle of batteries.
Panic sits like a rock in my stomach as I wonder if my body still knows what to do. Surely there is some muscle memory, like when I haven’t worked out at the gym for a while. Or maybe it’s one of those times like riding a bike and you never forget.
On shaky legs, I wander toward the kitchen, feeling the heat of Jason’s body right behind me. I toss my sparkly purse onto the counter and watch it skitter across the shiny surface before asking, “Would you like a drink?” My voice is way too loud, and I don’t dare look back at him. He knows me too well for me to mask my emotions, which are currently hovering somewhere between nervous anticipation and full-blown anxiety. I’ve waited so long for this moment; I don’t want to screw it up.
Inner sex goddess, help me. Please.
“Water. Thanks.” Jason’s reply startles me. He pulls out a stool at the island, and I quickly move around the kitchen, filling two glasses with ice and water. At least this is a familiar routine.
I stay on my side, placing his glass in front of him. The intensity of his expression drills into me when I look up, my heart squeezing in response.
The silence between us is as cold as the ice bobbing in the glass. “I wonder if it will snow before Christmas,” I mumble. It’s the only thing I can think of to fill the awkwardness of the moment.
