“I can’t help it,” he murmurs.
We both nod our thanks to the woman setting two glasses of chilled white wine on the counter next to us before I turn back to frown at him.
“Of all the times to try andhelp it, it’s tonight. We have an audience.”
“Kinky.”
“Stop it,” I hiss. “I need professional Noah.”
A playful smile tickles his cheek as he presses one of the glasses into my palm. “Sorry, he’s out of the office.”
I open my mouth to say something and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to my forehead. The thoughts that follow are, of course, the furthest thing from chaste and I frown again. I’m beginning to see the flawed logic in completely ditching our no PDA rule.
“Noah,” Tom calls. “Come meet Arthur and his wife, Farrah.”
“Duty calls,” Noah says, prompting me towards the party.
We mingle with Tom and Cheryl’s friends, making small talk and hyping up Flourish’s new line of sleep aide products. Slowly, as the men gather on one side of the room and the women on the other, we’re pulled apart. Noah is completely in his element, dazzling his peers with stories and laughing at the occasional friendly barb. He was born to be in rooms like this, charming people and winning them over.
I, on the other hand, struggle to do more than offer a polite laugh. My stories don’t fit in here, and I fight off cresting inadequacies by justifying it’s all pretend. After this trip my dutyto charm the housewives of Pala will be little to none. I do what I can to entertain, and while I start by faking an interest in their gossip about other women they know from the club, it becomes easier after a few stories about sordid affairs and back yard drug swaps.
Cheryl, too, seems to be in her element, and more of a pacifist compared to the others, always coming in with a careful chide or knowing look when one of them ventures too far into impropriety. I get the distinct feeling she knows more of their secrets than they want to admit, because the subject is always promptly changed.
Ready for a break from the chit chat, I wobble my way towards the wine counter, waving off one of the sommeliers who comes rushing forward. As if on cue, Noah drops in at my side, his hand resting low on my back.
“Are you alright?”
“Mm,” I say. “Just warding off a headache.”
“It can’t be that bad over there, can it?”
“The drama is so far beyond wild. I don’t even know these women, but I can tell you who fucked their nail lady, and which of their neighbors are hooked on Xanax.”
“Sounds riveting. I’d hate to steal you away.”
The playful tone of his voice tells mehateis the wrong word for what he thinks about slipping me away from the chatter, and my heartbeat thumps against my chest, all thoughts of drama and gossip whispering away like leaves on the wind.
“Please do.”
He takes my hand, leading me back out of the room and down the long hallway towards the main entrance. The rest of the restaurant is empty, but we turn down a different hall where he begins checking door handles for one that’s unlocked.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a quiet place.”
My cheeks warm as I realize why he would want a closed-door quiet place right this moment. Clearly the anticipation he’d been so ready to accept earlier has worn out its welcome and he’s ready to give in. He continues jiggling handles as my heels click along the brightly colored floor tiles. Finally, at the end of the hallway, one of the doors gives and we fall into a well stocked, and exceptionally tidy utility closet. With a quiet click, we’re submerged in the dark.
“What if someone comes in here?” I ask, his hands already wrapped around my hips, his face in my neck.
“Then they’ll get quite a show.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He kisses me, greedy and eager, tasting of wine and juniper. His hands are already tugging at the skirt of my dress, as his tongue dances in and out of my mouth, our breath falling in tandem. My fears about being discovered are shoved back with every desperate reach for gratification and forgotten entirely as his hands continue to tease and pull pools of passion in their wake.
“This dress,” he grumbles, his fingers curved under its hem. “I would pay for it ten times over again.”
