She laughed. “You don’t want to think about it?”
“Hell, no. You’re talking about learning how to hike and maybe kayak. I have two months of weekly sessions with seven-year-old girls. It’s not a fair trade for you, but I don’t care. You offered and I’m saying yes.”
“You’re very obsessed with their ages.”
“They’re babies.”
She pretended to look concerned. “You do realize most seven-year-old girls are already dating these days, right?”
His mouth dropped open. “No way.”
She laughed again. “Just messing with you because I can.”
The palm on her knee moved toward her thigh in a very steady, very purposeful way. His hand was large, his fingers long. Suddenly nothing was very funny and she found herself wondering if they could get a room upstairs. Just for an hour or two. Or five.
He stopped at the hem of her dress. Just stopped. He didn’t move, didn’t hint that there was more. Even so, she found herself breathing a little faster. His gaze held hers captive.
“You were saying?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Good.”
She nodded. “You like that you get to me.” Normally she wouldn’t have admitted anything like that, but why ignore the obvious?
“It makes things equal between us.”
“You’re saying I get to you?”
“Why would you think otherwise?”
Because every woman had doubts, she thought. She put her hand on top of his. “Now what?”
“Now we order dinner.”
He pulled back his hand, then reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. He leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek, then he spoke very quietly.
“Of course I want you, Taryn. I’m breathing, aren’t I? Because it would take being dead to not want you. You told me you wanted me to work for it and I’m more than willing to do that. To wait to feel your skin against mine, your mouth, your br**sts, all of you. But when we are together, it’s going to be my way. It’s going to be slow. There won’t be an inch of you I won’t touch, won’t please. I want to learn everything you like and then figure out how to do it so well I can make you come anytime, anywhere. And I will.”
It was both a challenge and a promise, she thought, as a shiver trickled down her back. Her br**sts tightened as they seemed to get heavier, and the very center of her began to ache and swell.
She turned her head to face him and found their mouths were inches apart. “That’s an ambitious goal.”
“Go big or go home.”
“I thought it was Semper Fi.”
“That’s the Marines.”
His eyes were made up of a thousand shades of gray. He had a handful of small scars on his cheek and forehead. His mouth was perfectly shaped.
She raised her hand and traced the scar on his neck with her thumb. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
He slipped his hand through her long black hair and cupped the back of her head. “I want you,” he breathed. “And I’ll wait.”
Part of her wanted to protest. Not waiting seemed like an excellent idea. But the rest of her wanted to see where this all would lead. When it came to her romantic or sexual relationships, it seemed that all she was doing was going through the motions. Whatever happened with Angel, she would find herself on one hell of a ride. Maybe that was the solution.
But that wasn’t to say she was going to make it easy.
She shifted so she was more angled toward him. She drew one leg up, resting her thigh on the seat, parting her legs slightly. Her dress rode up obligingly.
She took the hand that had been on her leg and put it back on her bare skin, then guided it higher until his fingers came in contact with the hot, damp wisp of silk that was her thong.
She’d thought to shock him, to make him squirm. But instead of hesitating, he slid two fingers under the elastic and brushed them unerringly against her swollen, hungry core.
Heat and need shot through her. She had a bad feeling she both flushed and gasped as need threatened to take control. He touched her again, rubbing more firmly once, twice, three more times, then withdrew his hand.
“Think you’re playing with a kid?” he asked, his eyes bright with confidence.
She faced front and tugged down her dress. “No. I was making a point.”
“Me, too.”
And he’d won, damn him. Instead of rattling him, she was the one who wanted to squirm. She had to hold on to her martini with both hands to keep from grabbing his hand and shoving it back under the table so he could keep touching her. She’d never in her life wanted to have sex in a public place, but apparently exceptions could be made.
What was it that he’d just told her? That he would learn how to make her come anytime, anywhere? So much for delusions of grandeur, she thought grimly. From that very brief demonstration it looked as though Angel was going to make good on his word.
* * *