The blonde’s smile widened. “You are most kind.” Then she whisked away the dishes.
“You really think she was pretty?” he asked. He let his gaze follow the blonde’s twitching buttocks. She had a nice ass. Then he looked at his salad because he felt like an idiot for checking out another woman while sitting next to his mate.
“You may find this strange, Jack, but women do look at other women. Usually, we do it to figure out how we look in comparison. Is my ass smaller than hers? Do I have bigger boobs?” She pierced the salad with her fork and took a bite.
He glanced at her. “Is that why you looked at her?”
“I found her very attractive. She likes to be looked at—and so do I.”
Grant grinned. “Good. Because I plan to look at you a whole lot.”
After they finished off their salads, he poured more champagne.
“Are you a voyeur?” she asked.
“Everyone’s a voyeur to some extent.”
She considered his words. “But not everyone is an exhibitionist.”
“No. But you are.”
“Yeah.” Roxie nodded. “That’s true.”
Monique returned to clear off their salad bowls and silverware. Behind her, a tuxedoed waiter placed two steaming dishes of food before them along with steak knives and forks. “Tonight’s feast is filet mignon and lobster tail served with steamed asparagus.”
They dug into the meal, and Grant had to admit he’d never seen a sexy sight than Roxie enjoying her steak. The way the woman’s lips moved over her fork, the ecstasy revealed as she chewed the meat … damn. She was hot. He wanted to bend her over the table and take her. Hard. Fast. Until they were both sweating and screaming.
Down, boy.
Minutes after they finished their meal, Monique reappeared. She once again removed their dishes then set a plate between them filled with three types of cheese.
“We have Halloumi—which is folded cheese with mint; Stilton, which is handmade in Britain; and Tavor, an Israeli cheese that’s a blend of sheep and goat’s milk.”
“Looks wonderful,” murmured Jack.
“How was your dinner?” she asked. Her gaze ping-ponged between him and Roxie.
“Fabulous,” he said.
“Definitely,” Roxie agreed.
The slow beat of drums filtered into the restaurant.
“Ah,” said the waitress with a coy smile. “The show ... it begins.”
* * *
THE BLUE LIGHTS went out, casting the entire place into darkness. The drumbeats increased as three people—painted in neon purple, pink, and green—emerged from the floor. Black lights shone down on the dancers, highlighting the splashes of color on their bodies.
The two men spied the lone female and crept forward, as if intending to pounce on her. She twirled away. Every lithe movement and graceful leap was accentuated by the music.
Roxie watched, riveted by the graceful moves of the lissome dancers.
Grant’s hand crept into hers and held it tightly.
They watched the men chase the woman. They would almost catch her, but she would flit away, as illusive and beautiful as a butterfly. The music was frenetic and intense as the dancers ran and jumped, arms reaching, yet never quite touching.
Grant released her hand and trailed his fingers up her side. Her breath hitched as he dared to cup her breast. Her nipple hardened instantly. His hand dropped away, fingers stroking her ribcage to rest lightly on her hip.
The light touch of his fingers against her thigh was filled with erotic promise. Her heart skipped a beat and she waited, nearly breathless, to see where else he would touch her.
She watched the dancers, which increased her excitement. The woman had been caught. One man stood in front of her and the other behind her. Hands stroked neon-speckled flesh.
Grant ventured under her dress. One finger dipped into her panties, stroking her clit. He leaned close and whispered, “Play with your breasts.”
Was he seriously going to give her an orgasm in a restaurant full of people?
With it so dark, no one would be looking. In fact, given the rise of pheromones and the scent of arousal so easily detected by her werewolf senses, others were busy playing their own table games. She cupped her breasts, rubbing her thumbs over her distended nipples. Desire skittered through her—an arrow of urgent heat straight into her woman’s core.
The drumbeat went crazy and the trio of dancers moved in a crazed rhythm. Back and forth, bodies surging and colliding as the music rose higher and higher.
Grant’s whisper tickled her ear. “I love stroking your clit. I want to make you come.”
Roxie lungs nearly collapsed. She twisted her nipples as his finger stroked her clit faster and faster.
The music hit a crescendo…
…and so did she. The orgasm burst, as sweet and hot as ripe berries picked on a summer day. She was panting heavily, unable to steady her own breathing. Grant removed his hand and her hands drifted away from her breasts.