I look like the kind of woman who would go to a nightclub and dance with a man she’s planning to seduce later. If I look the part, maybe I’ll feel more confident about it all, I tell myself as I grab my clutch and head downstairs.
Leon glances at me oddly as I head out to the car—not in a leering way, but in a way that says he’s noticed the change in my look and is unsure as to what exactly is going on. I pause before I get into the Mercedes, biting my lip.
“I still want to keep this quiet,” I tell him. “I’ll tell Ronan I’m seeing someone when I’m ready.”
He blows out a sharp breath. “I don’t like this, Annie,” he says quietly. “You remember what happened after Siobhan?—”
“That was his wife. I’m my own person. I should get to decide when I tell my brother I’m dating someone.” My jaw tightens. “Plus, I’m not going to get myself killed, Leon, and I’m notasking you to not shadow me tonight. Just don’t blab about my love life to my brother yet, okay?”
Leon sighs heavily. “Alright.” He opens the door for me, and I slide into the car, feeling my pulse beat faster than usual.
Tonight feels different. I can feel a tension building as we drive toward the restaurant where I’m meeting Desmond. When I see him, I hope that it’ll dissipate, but it only winds tighter as I walk into Sorellina and see him standing by the hostess’ desk, waiting for me.
He's wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his copper hair styled sleekly back. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine—all model-handsomeness and expensive taste.
"Christ, Annie," he breathes, his eyes traveling slowly from my heels to my face. "You're going to kill me tonight."
I bite my lip, feeling a little self-conscious. “I don’t own a lot of nightclub outfits. I’m glad you like it.
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his expensive cologne, and his hand comes up to trace my jawline, thumb brushing across my lower lip. The touch is possessive, blatant, and too intimate for where we’re standing, in front of other restaurant guests filing in and the hostess standing there awkwardly.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "About you, about tonight, about all the things I want to do to you."
I swallow hard. I have no idea what to say to that. I don’t feel that kind of raw need toward Desmond, but is it so bad if he feels it for me? It would feel good to be wanted by someone who isn’t so wholly off-limits, someone who I can actually have.
Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to expect a response. He steps back, glancing arrogantly at the hostess, who doesn’t seem to know what to do in the face of that very public display ofaffection. “We’re ready to be seated,” he says, and she stammers quickly, grabbing menus and wine lists and gesturing for us to follow her.
We end up in a very private corner booth, a dimly lit, intimate spot that makes the dinner feel very romantic. Desmond orders starters for us both without pausing to let me peruse the menu for long—the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, oysters, and yellowfin tartare. I start to protest and then bite it back. That all sounds good to me, so why not? He’s taking charge, showing me that he knows what he wants. It should be sexy. If Elio did that?—
But he wouldn’t. And I have to stop fucking thinking about Elio.
The sommelier makes a show of presenting and opening it, but I barely pay attention. I'm too focused on the way Desmond is looking at me, like I'm the most fascinating thing in the room. There’s such blatant heat in his eyes, more so than any of the other nights out we’ve had, and I can tell he’s planning something tonight.
We should take our relationship to the next level.I can’t pretend that I don’t know what he might have meant by that. What I truly don’t know is how I feel about the possibility of going further with him. If I’m ready for that.
If I want to give him something, I once only ever wanted to give Elio.
"You're staring," I tell him, taking a sip of my wine. It’s delicious, the flavors intricate and dry, and I have to admit that he has good taste, even if he did order without asking me.
"Can you blame me?" His foot finds mine under the table, sliding up my calf and making me catch my breath. "You're absolutely stunning tonight, Annie. Every man in this restaurant is wondering what they have to do to trade places with me."
I glance around and realize he's right—several men have been stealing glances at our table throughout the evening. The attention is flattering, intoxicating, even. I do feel desirable. Sexy. Adventurous. Things I don’t normally feel.
"Maybe I should have worn something more conservative," I tease, but I'm smiling.
"Don't you dare." His hand finds mine across the table, fingers tracing patterns on my palm. It sends a shiver up my arm. "I want them to look. I want them to see what they can't have."
There's an edge of possession in his voice that sends another nervous thrill through me. I swallow hard, trying to sort through how this makes me feel as the oysters arrive. Desmond scoops one onto a fork, leaning forward to feed it to me, his eyes locked onto mine. I almost pull back, but I let him slip the salty bite between my lips at the last moment.
It's theatrical and sensual and completely over the top, but it works. I feel a flare of heat in my stomach, a sensation that makes me want to find out where this goes. This could be a memorable night. A night that erases other desires, other wants. A night that makes it so I could finally let the past go.
"I have a confession," he says as we're finishing the main course—grilled octopus for me and veal for him. His hand brushes mine again, and I feel our knees touch under the table. He’s touching me more than he ever has before, as if that one kiss was permission to push my boundaries. But I haven’t pushed back. I should want him to touch me, right? I should want to be desired, possessed by a man like this. A man I can choose.
"Oh?" I manage, taking another sip of wine to steady myself.
"I've been thinking about you like this for months. Even when Siobhan was alive, I used to watch you at family gatherings and wonder what it would be like to have you all to myself."
The mention of his sister should probably cool the heat between us, but it doesn't. If anything, it makes his desire feel more forbidden, more intense. Like a shadow of what I had with Elio, but the kind of forbidden that won’t ruin everyone’s lives if we allow it to happen.
