Breathless (57 page)

“Hey,” I say, sounding a hell of a lot more butch than I wanted to. I clear my throat. “You’re late.”

“I know. I got caught up in a meeting, but I’m here now.” He gestures in front of him. “Let’s eat.”

I step around him and walk towards the host who’s standing by a low, black podium. “Reservation?”

I peer over my shoulder as Jesse leans forward. “O’Ryan.”

Our host taps the screen in front of him a couple of times before beaming widely up at us. “Right this way.”

We follow him through the busy restaurant until he leads us right to our table in the middle of it all. From our table, I can hear the classical music and soft clatter of cutlery against porcelain. It’s a beautiful noise… one I haven’t heard since my partner and I separated. Now that he’s gone, I tend to stick to takeaways and home deliveries, mostly.

When the restaurant host leaves, Jesse reaches around me and pulls back my chair. I try hard not to stare at his lips as they pass by my face. Instead, my gaze settles on his throat… I’ve never been turned on by a throat before but now is as good a time as any. When his chocolate eyes flick to my face, I arch an eyebrow.

“We’ve already slept together. You don’t have to pull my chair out for me.” I tell him as I lower myself into the seat anyway.

“I’m not trying to impress you. It’s this crazy new thing I’m trying out called: ‘being polite’.” He smiles down at me, and I love his snarky side. “Not everyone is as blunt as you.”

I bite my bottom lip, fighting my own smile. “Because that would be so bad, wouldn’t it?” Sarcasm is thick in my voice, and he picks up on it as he lowers himself into his own chair.

“Yes. It’d be horrible.”

He pulls his napkin from his plate and lays it on his lap. I follow his lead.

“You know, I’m not as bad as you think.” I point out.

His stare flicks to mine and flares. For the first time since meeting him at the bar, my throat dries and my excitement bubbles to the surface. “Neither am I.”

His words still me. I get the feeling he’s referring to the night we slept together. How… odd. Was that his intention, or am I reading too much into it?

“You look nice.” he says, his eyes flitting quickly to my dress.

“Thank you.”

The conversation is quickly heading into stilted territory, but I don’t mind. I’m immune to awkwardness. Actually, I think I thrive in awkward situations.

Before the silence extends and causes irreversible awkwardness, a waitress ambles over to us and greets us with a French accent so thick, that I have no idea what she’s saying. Jesse opens his menu and I survey him as he reads through the list. It takes him barely a second to look over the menu before he swiftly closes it.

“I’ll have a Boeuf Bourguignon.” He looks to me. “I’m assuming you’re not the kind of girl who orders a salad?”

I glare at him, unsure if I should take offense at his remark. I decide not to cause a scene in front of the innocent waitress, so I grit my teeth instead. “Absolutely not.”

I open my menu and look over the meals. If Master Q was here to pronounce the titles in his sexy French tongue, then maybe I’d be more inclined to order some of the dishes. Andouillette sounds gross, and Bouillabaisse definitely sounds disgusting. Steak Frites is just about the only thing on the menu that sounds remotely close to normal, so I order it. When the waitress collects our menus and hurries off, I lean forward on the table.

“Do you even know what you ordered?” Jesse asks with an amused smirk.

Shit. Please don’t tell me I ordered snails.

“Steak, I hope… if not, you just wasted a lot of money on a meal I’m not going to eat.”

He chuckles and the sound almost mesmerizes me…
such a beautiful laugh.
“Luckily for you, it
is
steak.”

“Good, because I skipped breakfast to fit into this dress, and I’m starving.”

Once again, his eyes flick over me—analyzing every visible inch. “Do you go to the gym?” He asks out of nowhere.

I snort. “Wow, you’re on a roll with the not so subtle fat hints today. Are you insinuating I lose weight?”

“What? No. Not at all. I’m just trying to find common ground. Your body is…” His stare rakes me, and suddenly the room kicks up in temperature. His look is so smoldering and so hot, I’m certain two hobbits are going to run in any second now and throw rings at us. Jesse clears his throat and the lusty gaze is gone. “Fine.”

“I know it is.”

I wish I
was
perfect, but it’s extremely unrealistic to have the perfect body with a lifestyle like mine. I drink too much, eat takeaways too often, and I’d much rather spend my free time in bed with a book than work out at the gym. Jesse, I assume, spends a good portion of time in the gym. He doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve felt it, and it shows—even through his shirt.

The waitress returns with water and a complimentary wine. Jesse declines the wine, telling her he has to go straight back to work after lunch. I, on the other hand, happily accept it. I even fill it past the quarter mark which drives Jesse absolutely mad. When she leaves again, I take a long sip of the fermented grape juice and relax into my chair.

“Can I ask you a rather forward question?”

I nod. “Please do.”

My curiosity piques. I wonder what kind of forward question he’s going to ask? Maybe he’ll inquire about my breasts. Real or fake? I get it all the time. They’re real, by the way.

He leans forward on his elbows, his fingers threaded in front of his full lips. “Two lunches and two dinners… what’s your intention?”

I tilt my head. “My intention?” Doesn’t he already know? Did I not make that clear? “An ‘O’ is my intention.”

I almost smile at his genuine confusion. “An ‘O’?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “The big ‘O’. A fucking mind blowing, leg shaking, head spinning orgasm.”

To my delightful surprise, Jesse’s face flushes a shade of pink and he glances around the restaurant, clearly nervous. He’s shy… how uncharacteristic for a man like him. I’m generalizing of course, but in my novels—oh, screw it. It’s apparent now that my life isn’t like the novels I read.

“Don’t speak so loudly, Alix.”

“Why? Are you shy?”

His face pinches together—an expression still devastatingly handsome on him. “No.”

“If you’re not shy, are you a prude then,
Jesse
?”

The pinch develops into a scowl and he drops his hands in offense. “No, I’m not a prude. I just don’t think a woman should talk the way you do.”

The way I do? Now it’s my turn to take offense. “Listen up, Mr. D’Arcy. It’s not the eighteenth century. I can talk however I like.”

“But what do you get out of it? Surely saying the words ‘fuck’ and ‘cock’ aren’t the most exciting things in your life.”

I shrug and let the mischievous smile I suddenly feel, spread over my lips. “Not on their own, but in a sentence they can do all kinds of exciting things to me.”

“Example? And if you call me a ‘fucking cock’ I swear to God, I’m not going to take it lying down.”

As the threat rolls off his tongue, the waitress returns with bread, dipping sauce and stuffed olives. Jesse does his best to hide his clear frustration from her, but I ignore it.

“Ooh, are you going to spank me? Maybe you are a little ‘Fifty Shades’ after all.”

The waitress snorts and hurries off as he rolls his gorgeous dark eyes. “I have no idea what ‘Fifty Shades’ is and no, I’m not going to ‘spank’ you. Back to the example.”

My blood buzzes. I have the perfect example. I sit back in my chair and slip my feet from my heels. “Alright, I can give you an example.”

I stretch my legs out in front of me, until I feel the chair between his legs. Then, I push further, until the tips of my toes graze his cock through his slacks. His dark, beautiful eyes widen and he clears his throat. Deep down, I take pleasure in his obvious uneasiness. He reaches for his stemmed glass of water and draws it to his mouth. I watch as the condensation runs down the glass and trickles onto the stem.

“Alix—” He warns, before taking another nervous sip of his water.

“Jesse,” I say, cutting him off. “I want you to fuck me with your big cock.
Properly
this time.”

Right on cue, he chokes on the water and the wine glass,
somehow
, slips from his fingertips before pouring over the table and into his lap. He knew I was going to say it. He asked for the example. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying desperately not to laugh as he snatches my ankle and pushes it off his growing erection. A subtle blush flares across his cheeks and,
shit
, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen since high school. How can this grown ass man be so shy? He’s fucking hot, and between his legs, he carries the sexiest penis I’ve ever seen. He should be conquering women. He should be making them fall to their knees in front of him. Instead, he remains a perfect gentleman.

“Are you kidding me?” He hisses under his breath.

He’s mad, obviously, and I can’t help but find it amusing. If he wasn’t so… uptight, this could’ve been avoided.

“Hey, you asked for it. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it.”

“Get up.” He orders as he pats down his slack with napkins.

I slip my foot back into my heel and grab my clutch. “Where are we going?”

Jesse pushes himself to his feet and continues to swipe at his crotch. It’s quite the scene, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m not about to eat lunch with a wet lap. I need to change.”

“Okay, so we’ll go to my house.” I offer.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head and points an accusing finger in my direction. I want to bite it. “I’m not going to your house—to be alone with you. You said two lunches, two dinners and
then
the orgasm. That’s the order we’re going to do it in.”

Beside us, an older couple gasp and clutch their pearls… or they
would
be clutching their pearls if they were wearing any. In this case, they’re fine golden chains.

It’s in this moment I realize just how stressed out Jesse is. He gets worked up over situations that really aren’t that bad. He’s overworked and overtired and is clearly lacking in the sexual experience department. Has he even had a life outside of the hotels? Has he ever just let go and not cared?

“I was only offering a simple lunch, Jesse. No busy restaurant. No weird and expensive French food… and no random people staring at your soaking crotch while you shout and embarrass yourself.”

You know, I never feel more of a sexual deviant than I do when he’s around. He acts as though he’s afraid I’ll jump him at any second. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him I’m not eager to saddle up to that horse either.

After a quick glance around the silent restaurant, he nods ever so subtly. “Alright, we’ll go to your house, but we’re taking
my
car.”

I shrug and nod. “Suits me,” I tell him. “I don’t even have a car.”

Chapter Five

Jesse

“How do you not own a car?” I ask her, completely bewildered.

Everyone has a car, right? I couldn’t survive without mine. I’m always in it, always driving from town to town—city to city. I love driving. I love getting behind the wheel, turning my music on and thinking about something other than hotels. My car is my own little safe haven… away from the shit I don’t want to deal with.

Alix shrugs her shoulders as she bounces along next to me, trying desperately to keep up. I slow my long strides into a relaxed pace as we follow the sidewalk towards the underground parking lot at the end of the plaza.

“I’ve never needed one. I mean, I have my license, but I never went out of my way to buy a car. Besides, I live close enough to work so I catch taxis or ride the bus.”

“Why would you want to do that? Catching public transport means you have to talk to people.”

I shudder at the thought.

“Unlike you,” she begins, giving me a nudge with her shoulder. “I enjoy communicating with other people and catching the bus gives me a little extra time to read.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of reading and it’s beautiful to see. I can’t remember the last time I felt so passionate about something… Passion:
the one emotion that has eluded me this whole time. The last time I felt any passion was when I was living in Australia with my mom, studying at QUT, a Brisbane based University, and working on my Bachelor of Fine Arts. When my father found out, he pulled some strings and promptly put an end to it. My fine arts degree swiftly became a business degree, majoring in economics, and when I was finished, he moved me to Milan where I ran my first Tempt Hotel. Now, I’m here in California doing the same thing. When you work as hard as I do, in a field you don’t want to work in, you lose passion—in all aspects of life.

“What do you read?” I find myself asking, genuinely interested.

I don’t see her as the kind of girl who reads the classics.

“A whole range of stuff, really.” Her cheeks slight from tan to pink. “Adult Romance mostly.”

I stuff my hands into my pockets and ignore the way one of them feels damp and cold against my skin. Alix hooks one of her tiny arms around mine and I peer sideways at her, searching for a meaning behind the gesture, but her countenance doesn’t change.

“Is there sex?” I question, continuing on with our conversation. There’s nothing more I hate than an awkward silence. “In the books you read?”

She peers up at me, her eyebrows curved perfectly. “What do you think?”

“Right. Stupid question.”

We descend the slight ramp to the underground parking lot. It’s not completely dark. Murky, yellow lamps emit enough light to reflect off the cars and make the sidewalk glow. We walk in silence, but Alix doesn’t have to speak. Through her grip, I can feel her excitement. It flows into my body, kicking up the tempo of my own heart. Our shoes click against the smooth concrete as we move towards the back corner and I can’t help but take another peek sideways at her. Her eyes, usually the color of honey whiskey, are black in this light, but even so, their eager gleam still shines through.

“What kind of car are you hoping for?” I ask, curious to hear what she finds impressive.