I tried to explain the massive bar set-up. “Room service organized that. I wasn’t sure what you would want.”
“Looks perfect. What can I pour for you?”
“There is a wine spritzer mixed in the fridge. In a small mason jar…”
Once again, Cal didn’t mock or make fun of the choices I needed to make as someone who spent my days in front of a camera. He reached for the fridge and pulled out the glass container, pouring a decent amount into a wineglass. He then served himself a scotch and carried both glasses back over to me. I was still standing next to the love seat, struck by the memory of when I was here after Ford’s wedding. I’d drunk vodka from the bottle, sinking to an all-time low, falling asleep in my dress right on the aforementioned sofa.
“To you,” Cal said, handing me my wineglass. He tapped the lip of his lowball to the rim of my glass and winked—it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“To you,” I countered, my breath still taken away, my heart pounding in the cavern of my chest. After a sip, I suggested we sit. “They’re going to serve dinner soon. I asked if they could bring all the courses at once and let us be. Does that work?”
“It’s perfect. I don’t care about courses or the order of the food or any of that as long as I’m here with you.”
More swooning on my part, the words lost in my head. We were seated at opposite ends of the sofa, and I tucked my feet under me and enjoyed the view I had of Cal.
“You look beautiful.” He spoke gingerly, setting my nerves afire. In a good way.
I mentally noted my skinny jeans and black cashmere sweater, my hair in soft waves and makeup professionally done from an earlier photo I took with my brother, Scotty. “I had to do a press event today.” I started to go into detail. “After I left you at the office. For Scott. The jerk talked me into a photo op, so I had to change, swapping one sweater for another. Of course, it involved a whole beauty team and me donning the campaign button. Frank was annoyed for the fifth time today. He doesn’t know why I commit to these things.”
All of a sudden, the smile was back on his face, and I had to ask.
“What’s up with that look? You wore it when you walked in… Is it because I agreed to do something with my brother? Do you not approve either?” I waved at his mouth over my wineglass before dousing my brashness in a sip.
“No. It’s Frank. We had a word downstairs. He let me know not to hurt you.” Delaying the story, Cal took a slug of his scotch before setting it back on his thigh, his large hand staying loosely around the tumbler. “I let him know not to hurt you either.”
“He wouldn’t. It’s not like that—”
Cal interrupted my defense. “Oh, I figured that out when Frank winked and said I was more attractive to him than you.”
“Oh. My. God.” My free hand came up to cup over my mouth. “He’s usually not so flippant.”
“We have an understanding.”
“Cheers to that.” With a clink and another healthy gulp of our drinks, the food arrived.
Dinner was easy. I ate my prescribed menu while Cal enjoyed the chopped salad and fish with tiny potatoes. Toward the end I snuck a bite of the chocolate caramel torte, quickly devouring the sweetness before Cal leaned over and swiped his thumb at the corner of my lip. With a droplet of caramel on his finger, he brought it to his mouth, sucking off the sugary goo. I was pretty sure my tongue was hanging out of my mouth.
“This was nice. Quiet. Perfect,” Cal said, scooting his chair around the table to be next to mine.
The mostly empty plates were scattered all around the table. With our bellies satiated, our bodies were anything but. An electric current fizzled between the two of us as Cal stared into my eyes.
“It was perfect. Although this isn’t what my life is usually like. Having dinner with me is rarely a quiet event. Phones buzzing, people walking in and out.”
“Well, let’s take advantage of it while we have it.” Cal leaned forward, bringing his palm to my cheek and caressing my wine-flushed skin with his thumb. His lips hovered over mine before ghosting across my lip gloss. “Is this okay?”
I nodded.
“I don’t want to make assumptions,” Cal further clarified.
“You’re not.” My admission was no more than a whisper while our faces were so close, our breath nearly mingling.
Without waiting a beat, his mouth attacked mine. Our lips were a mashup of gentle and rough. His fingers tangled in my hair, making sure I stayed put. I didn’t dare move away from this kiss. It was more decadent than the chocolate caramel torte.
“You’re divine,” he breathed out, releasing my mouth as his hand traversed my side, over my sweater, fingering the hem. With an eyebrow raised, he asked, “May I?”
Still seated catty-corner from one another at the table, he slipped his palm under my sweater, his warmth melting into mine. His hand a lit match on my already burning skin. And I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation.
His fingers coasted over my rib cage as his mouth came back to meet mine. We kissed, tongues dancing, as his thumb traversed over my breast, dipping into my cleavage and back over the top of my bra again. He continued to ghost over my pebbled skin while assaulting my lips. The contradiction in sensations had me writhing in the chair until I broke free, gasping for air, saying, “I want you…in the bedroom.”
