I dig into my steak while Emery, seemingly pleased, swirls pasta on her fork and shovels a big bite into her mouth. She eats with gusto, with none of the fake, coy dieting crap that some girls pull. Oh, I’ve had one lettuce leaf—I’m full.
As I tune out the dry conversation about mergers and acquisitions happening around me, I notice little things about Emery during dinner. The way her simple gold necklace rests against the dip in her delicate collarbone. The way her dark eyelashes flutter against her cheeks when she looks down. The sound of her laughter when she lets loose—it’s a throaty sound, and I find I like it way more than is normal.
Generally with women, I have the finesse and mental fortitude of a rhinoceros charging through a watering hole. With Emery, I want to catalog every little detail. I could stare at her for hours. The way she dabs her cloth napkin at her mouth, so as not to mess up her lipstick. It’s cute.
When dinner is through, I make my way over to the bar, needing one more drink if I’m to survive the rest of this evening. I’ve just ordered a Scotch on the rocks when Larry saunters over. The piece of broccoli between his front teeth is so large, it practically requires its own zip code. Of course, I don’t say a word.
“It’s good to hear today went well,” I say, mentally checking Make small talk off my to-do list. I’m about to wander away when Larry turns to face me, pinning me against the bar.
“How long have you and Emery been dating, son?”
“Oh, we’re just friends,” I say, correcting him.
Larry raises one bushy gray brow. “She said she was bringing her boyfriend.”
“Did she?” I ask with more than a hint of curiosity in my tone.
Larry nods, the broccoli between his teeth waggling at me. “She did.”
“Excuse me,” I say and head straight over to Emery, tearing her away from one of her colleagues. Dick, or Bob, or whatever.
She glares at me, nearly tripping over her high-heeled feet as I pull her to a quiet side of the room. “What’s gotten into you? Did you tell Larry I was your boyfriend?”
I’m not sure why, but my tone is dripping with annoyed frustration. I haven’t been labeled anyone’s boyfriend since . . . yeah. After which, a state of emergency was declared upon my life, and things have never been quite the same.
Planting one hand on her hip, her posture straightens. “Aren’t you?”
All of our time spent together over the past month comes crashing into me at once, like starbursts firing in my synapses. The casual meals we’ve shared, the easy conversations, me lacing my fingers between hers, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear and fantasizing about her. God, the fucking fantasies I’ve had . . .
My jaw tenses. Maybe this whole thing is my fault. One big, huge colossal mess. But it all felt right. More than right. Perfect, actually. It’s been easy and fun—in a way that it never has been when it comes to the women in my life.
Emery’s still waiting for me to answer, so I do the only thing I can think of. I lean down and take her mouth with mine. Her hands fly to the lapels of my suit jacket, and for a second, I think she’s going to push me away. But then she tugs me closer and groans into my mouth. Gripping her waist tightly, I devour her just like I’ve fantasized about for so long. My tongue strokes hers in long licks as little mewling sounds escape her. I want to strip her right here and fuck her against the wall, bounce her up and down on my cock while her boss watches.
My dick is already rock hard. Fuck.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I say in a low voice, practically panting.
“Yes,” she agrees, just as breathless.
Taking her hand, I pull her from the restaurant and down the hall toward the elevators. I consider pulling her into the stairwell—it’s closer than our room—but not nearly private enough for what I want to do to her.
Jabbing the button with my finger, I don’t release my hold on Emery’s hand. Finally the doors open and we step inside, joining an elderly couple who nod and smile at us. But then Granny’s eyes travel down to the large bulge at the front of my pants, and she takes a step back.
“Oh my,” she says, her hand flying to her mouth.
Emery giggles and buries her face into my neck. The warm puff of her breath against my skin sends tingling heat down my spine and into my groin, making my dick even harder.
“Not helping, sweetheart,” I murmur. I want to swat her ass, but in the presence of our audience, I resist. Just barely.
The elevator stops at our floor and we make a hasty exit. Emery stumbles, tipsy from the three sangrias she’s had, and lets me tug her down the hall.
Finally we’re inside our room, and when the door closes behind us, the only sound is of our thumping heartbeats. The room is dim, except for the bathroom light that was left on, creating a swath of light to see by.
“Why’d you tell Larry I was your boyfriend?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper.
“You saw how he is with me.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I wanted to fucking hit him in the face. Repeatedly.”
“I couldn’t come here and be the only one without a date. I needed you.”