Are oysters a little on the nose? Everyone knows they’re an aphrodisiac—at least, that’s what people think. I’m a doctor, and I’ve seen no scientific evidence that they enhance sex drive. But the implication is there regardless.
Bianca and I have already had mind-blowing sex. So it really doesn’t matter what implications I make. We’ll certainly be doing it again, oysters or otherwise.
She seemed to enjoy herself as much as I did. I can’t imagine she’d say no to a round two.
But I’m more interested in getting to know who she is. It’s kind of nice that the sex part is out of the way now. I can focus on taking Bianca in as a whole and not just wonder the whole time if I’m going to get lucky.
It’s been a good day so far. I went to the gym, took a short walk, and then did some errands until lunch—a ham and cheese sandwich on sourdough.
Now I have five hours to kill before my dinner reservation with Bianca tonight at Brassica Rex.
Guess I can figure out what I’m wearing.
I sort through my closet. Normally my first-date outfit is a white button-down and khakis—a classic look for sure—but that feels too normal for a date with Bianca. Plus, Brassica is a classy place, and I want to dress the part. Make sure Bianca knows that I’m not viewing her solely as a sex object.
What would Maddox wear?
Maddox.
Shit.
I’ve been thinking of no one but Bianca since last night. I still have no idea where my best friend and the love of his life are.
Of course, if Maddox feels for Alissa even a fraction of what I’m feeling for Bianca…
I get it.
I’d run off to some tropical retreat with Bianca in a hot minute. Fuck my job, fuck my friends and family…
Christ. This woman has gotten in my head.
And the craziest part?
I don’t want her anywhere else.
Anyway, focus.
Have to figure out what I’m wearing tonight.
Maddox would say to go for something bold but elegant. Something equally over- and understated. I look through my closet, scooting hangers back and forth.
And I find it.
I have a shiny silver button-down that I purchased years ago for a galaxy-themed party. I haven’t had a chance to wear it since. I’ll pair it with a pair of black slacks and patent leather shoes. Bold but minimalist.
I look at myself in the full-length mirror next to my dresser. I look pretty damned good, not going to lie.
The top button on my shirt is undone since I’m not wearing a tie. I decide to undo the next one down as well.
It’s a bold look, and I think about adding a pop of color.
Anything except green.
I haven’t touched that color since I joined The Club. Back then, under Ray Sinclair’s thumb, I wore nothing but black. Even after I broke away from him, I never let green back into my wardrobe—it reminded too much of those damned highlights in Ray’s hair.
When I look in the mirror, I see Harrison O’Rourke.
Not Harry.
