“Certainly, sir,” replied the waiter, gratefully scuttling away with our dishes.
“You’re impatient tonight,” I said, taking a much needed drink of wine.
He scowled at me. Jeez, even his anger turned me on.
“How the fuck can I eat a plate of carbonara when you’re looking at me like that and I’m sitting there with a boner that’s as hard as Mount Rushmore?”
I nearly spat my wine out and couldn’t help laughing.
“Mount Rushmore?”
A reluctant smile made his lips twitch but I could tell he was still a little mad.
“Come on, then, let’s go. You can finish your cold carbonara later.” Ugh.
I paid for our abandoned meal with cash, disappointed that our date hadn’t quite gone as planned, although it was my own damn fault. I should have realized that Sebastian wasn’t the kind of man who played games. I didn’t think of myself as that kind of woman either: I just hadn’t realized that a little flirting with food would have such a gratifyingly immediate effect.
Once we’d left the relieved waiter behind and were strolling down the street, Sebastian draped his arm possessively around my shoulders, every now and then stooping to kiss my hair.
“Maybe I should just buy you energy bars next time and skip the whole dinner-date idea,” I teased him. “I could tie you to the bed and feed you Gatorade.”
He stopped so suddenly, I almost skidded past him. He turned and stared at me, then swallowed, his expression burning.
“What would you tie me up with?” he said, his voice full of unexplored longing.
I blushed beet red as he pulled me to his chest and stared down into my eyes.
“Stockings?” I whispered uncertainly.
He squeezed his eyes closed and tightened his grip on me almost painfully.
“And garter straps?” he choked out.
“If you like.”
“In black?”
“Tesoro, for you I’ll wear a different color for each day of the week.”
He let out a low moan.
“Where’s this fucking hotel?” he muttered, then towed me down the street at the quick march.
It took a moment to orientate myself and remember the direction for the hotel. Sebastian was so frustrated I was half expecting him to toss me over his shoulder and make a run for it. He was a man on a mission and he’d had as much foreplay as he could take.
When we reached the hotel, he yanked open the glass door and hauled me across the lobby while the bemused reception desk clerk blinked in surprise.
“Which floor?” he snarled, his fingers drumming impatiently next to the elevator’s call button.
“Fourth,” I stuttered, a little awed by his suddenly commanding behavior.
The doors slid open silently and I almost ran to the back, gripping the handrail, certain I needed something to hold on to. Sebastian took one step inside and let the doors close an inch behind him. He glanced over the buttons and stabbed number four with his finger.
My heart rate spiked as he stared at me, a hungry, desperate, utterly focused look on his face. I licked my lips but my mouth was suddenly dry.
I struggled to think of something to say but my mind was blank, totally without thought – just a raging need to consume.
The elevator started to rise and Sebastian took a pace towards me. Then another. And another. Until he was standing in front of me but still our bodies weren’t touching. Then he reached out and placed one hand above my left shoulder, and his other above my right. I was trapped between his arms. And still he didn’t touch me. He leaned forwards and I held my breath. Then slowly, deliberately he nuzzled my hair out of the way and ran his tongue up the side of my neck.
I could feel his warm breath on my cheek, his wet tongue teasing my ear. I took another, deep lungful of air and breathed in his scent: some spicy soap, salt, and his own sweet smell.