After All

“Didn’t you have a rich aunt or something that helped fund you when you first started?” I’m trying to remember the Wikipedia page on him but judging by the look on his face, I’m not sure how accurate it is.

“I didn’t have anything like that,” he says soberly. “You’re right though. We don’t know a thing about each other.”

We lapse into a strange silence. Both of us almost sound bitter at that fact.

“So tell me,” he says, after we’ve started to tuck into the oysters. “Does this forty grand you’ve wanted have anything to do with your original dream?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you didn’t want to tell me?”

I bite my lip, considering it while I watch him swallow the oyster downs. God, he even makes eating oysters look sexy.

“I guess I just felt…like a fame chaser or something.”

“A fame chaser.” He lets out a wry chuckle. “Is that similar to a star fucker? Those are all the things you don’t like about me. Though perhaps the real reason you don’t like me is because I’m a working actor and you aren’t.”

“Ouch,” I tell him with a frown. “Naturally you would assume I’m jealous of you.”

“I didn’t say jealous,” he says. “But slighted.”

“Well I’m not slighted,” I say, busying myself by finishing off the rest of the martini. But as I drink, I’m starting to wonder if he’s right. Maybe one of the many reasons why I have such an aversion to him is because he’s an actor who has been working a long time. Forget the fact that he’s on a TV show, he was doing theatre in London, which is pretty much my idea of the dream. But that dream wasn’t enough for him.

I shake the feelings off. It doesn’t really matter and it’s useless to compare us. After all, I’m the one who gave her dream a half-hearted approach and gave up when the going got rough. Whether he struggled or not, he didn’t give up. And that’s why he’s here right now.

“Actually,” I tell him, though I’m already starting to regret the words that are about to come out of my mouth, “I admire you.”

A cautious smile tilts his lips. “You admire me?”

“Let me rephrase that. I admire that you went for what you wanted and you didn’t give up.”

He seems to let that sink in, nodding slowly. “Well, then I suppose I have one admiral quality about me. That’s good to know.” He pushes the tray of oysters toward me. “I’ve had my share. These are all yours. Eat up, baby.”

I love, love, love oysters. But there’s something insanely sexual about them and it’s not that they’re supposed aphrodisiacs. Or maybe it’s that being around Emmett, everything turns sexual after a while. Either way, I hesitate before I pick one up.

After sprinkling some horseradish and vinegar on the oyster, I slide it off the shell and let it sink down my throat. Like I figured, Emmett is watching me the entire time, his gaze growing heated.

“God,” he practically growls, his voice low, “I can imagine you swallowing my cum in the same way.”

I nearly choke on it. In fact, I start coughing harshly, the vinegar catching in my throat and immediately grab my glass of water, gulping it down.

When my coughing fit has subsided and I can breathe again, I shoot him a glare. “What did I say about hitting on me?”

“Oh, sunshine, I wasn’t hitting on you. I was just thinking out loud.”

“Then how about you keep your thoughts to yourself.”

He raises his drink to his lips and smiles at me over it. “No promises.”

To his credit, for the rest of the date he doesn’t say anything else lewd and crude. Sometimes I wonder how much he actually means the dirty things he says and how much of it is just to shock me. He does seem to get more of a kick out of my reaction.

Then again, this man has been inside me. He’s made me crazy with just a kiss. I have a feeling that when it comes down to it, he means every single filthy word that leaves his lips.

And, truth be told…I think I’m starting to like it.

We’ve just finished our desert when he reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

“Kiss me,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze.

“What?”

He smiles that gorgeous grin, and I feel my resolve slowly melting inside. “Kiss me. Trust me, it will look good.”

Ah hell. I’m tempted to look around the restaurant to see who is watching but I have a feeling if no one is now, they will be in a second.

Kiss him, I tell myself. This is part of the deal.

It’s not even the kiss that I mind so much, it’s that I have to do it in public, in front of everyone, and there’s a good chance that someone is going to take a picture of this moment.

Still, I give him a smile, trying to look at him like I’m in love with him, and then I lean across the table and he leans across the table and I kiss him. Good Will Hunting, eat your heart out.

I mean it to be short and sweet, nothing more than a press of the lips. But just like what happened in the car, the moment our mouths touch, there’s a magnetic pull between us, our lips immediately wanting, no, demanding, more of each other.

Before my brain can catch up with what’s going on, we are full on Frenching in front of the entire restaurant like a pair of horny teenagers.

And the moment we pull back, I see something in his eyes, a wild sort of tenderness, that I can only hope is true. The fact that there are a million eyes and even the flash of a camera on us doesn’t seem to matter. When we kiss, it becomes the only thing that’s real.

I give him a shy smile and sit back down. I’m not embarrassed at having done that in public but once again I’m chiding myself for letting me read into something that’s just an act.

Don’t catch feelings. You might not be as immune as you think.

“Thank you,” he says to me. “I almost believed that.”

I give him a puzzling look just as the waitress comes by with the bill. Then I put back on my happy girlfriend face, which slides in place with ease. Maybe I’m a natural born faker.

After dinner, while the heads in the restaurant swivel our way as we leave, we get into the waiting Suburban.

I expect Emmett to start touching me wildly like he was doing earlier, but he just stares out the window, deep in thought. The silence isn’t uncomfortable for once, so I close my eyes and nearly doze off in my seat, only waking up once the car comes to a stop outside my apartment.

“Let me walk you to your door,” he says to me, taking my arm and leading up the path toward the building. He stops, grabbing both of my hands.

“You survived your first date with me,” he says, eyes shining with quiet amusement. “Congratulations. How does it feel?”

“Strange,” I admit. I can’t help but smile. “But actually it was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”

“You know how we can make it even more fun,” he says, taking a step toward me, closing in the inches. One of his hands disappears into my hair and I try not to sink into this feeling, the easy way he touches me. “Invite me in.”