Stop thinking about him.
I could almost hear Frisco growling in my ear, so I thrust aside the old memories and concentrated on the man in front of me, which wasn’t a hardship. With his thin, high-cheekboned face, piercing blue eyes, and golden-brown hair, Nate was gorgeous. Not only that, but once outside the tense atmosphere of the group, he’d turned charming and flirty, lacing our fingers together and rubbing his thumb over mine as we walked down the block. When we entered the tiny restaurant, he placed his hand on my back, and to my surprise, it soothed my nerves.
“Tell me everything about Presley Dawson,” he said with a teasing smile after he ordered the wine.
“Just a boring guy,” I replied with a feeble stab at humor. I wondered if this would turn out like all the other attempts I’d made over the years, where we’d go over our résumés, and I’d make an effort to be passionate when we got physical, only to have it die out because I couldn’t see myself faking it.
“I doubt that. First of all, I’m not attracted to boring people.”
“Oh, so it’s all about you, huh?”
The waiter came over, opened and poured the wine. After he left, Nate reached across the table, took my hand, and gave me a crooked, almost hesitant smile.
“Not at all. Right now, it’s all about you.”
And since no one had ever said that to me, I was captivated, an almost forgotten throb of desire hitting me.
We sat holding hands and drinking wine until our meals came. I ate slowly, my eyes settling on Nate often. We spoke of inconsequential things, like how we both hated the frigid cold and loved the ocean, and about Nate’s extensive travels, while I confessed to never having been out of the country.
“No matter where I’ve traveled, I still prefer my bed to a hotel room.”
“I wouldn’t mind a week somewhere exotic. Then again, I’ve never been to the West Coast.”
He gazed at me thoughtfully but said nothing, and we finished our meals.
“Dessert?” He barely glanced at the menu card the waiter held out, and I sensed Nate ate without tasting his food. He went through the motions, sort of like how all of us in that group seemed to live our lives.
“I’m full, thanks. It was delicious.”
After a brief but friendly argument over the check, where I insisted on giving Nate half, we left the restaurant and stood outside in the brisk early January air. At almost ten in the evening, the streets were half-filled with sales-hungry post-holiday shoppers rushing home. It had been a while since I’d gone out on a proper dinner date, and I’d forgotten the city’s hum of energy. Post-season holiday lights still twinkled from apartment windows and storefronts, and cabs passed us, their seats filled with people going somewhere, doing something. I loved the city—always busy, always alive.
Nate ran a finger down my cheek, and my breath caught. He hooked it into the knot of my tie and pulled me close. “Come back with me to mine?” he whispered, his hot breath sweet from the wine. “No pressure. Another glass of wine or a coffee. Just…I don’t want to be alone right now.”
He stood before me in his black overcoat, incredibly desirable and handsome as hell. A powerful man, I assumed, and used to getting what he wanted. But I saw the strain in his haunted eyes and the pale skin stretched tight over high cheekbones.
He’s troubled. Lonely. He could use someone to talk to.
Like you, a little voice whispered.
“Okay. I wouldn’t mind a coffee.”
When his eyes lit up, I thought maybe we weren’t that different.
Nate lived three blocks away in a charming nineteenth-century brownstone. My mouth watered at the genuine Tiffany stained-glass windows and fanlight arching over the front door. The entrance wasn’t large, but there was a beautiful inlaid wooden floor design set like a starburst. When he closed the door behind me, I glimpsed the original crown molding and the artwork on the walls. Everything inside this house set my antique-loving heart pounding.
Then Nate touched my face, and my heart pounded for an entirely different reason.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Can I kiss you?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, closing my eyes as his face loomed close. But he didn’t mash his mouth over mine and thrust his tongue inside. No, Nate pressed soft, gentle kisses along my cheek, my eyes, a brief touch to my lips, then traced my jawline with the tip of his tongue. He seduced me with his lips and heated breath, and I shivered at his light, sensuous touch. It was an erotic fantasy come to life, and my body, cold for so long, warmed to him. He licked a wet path down my neck and loosened my tie to open the top buttons of my shirt.
I looped my arms around his neck, and he pushed me gently so I rested against the door. A single bead of sweat dripped from his chin and hit my collarbone. I ran my fingers through his hair and tipped my head back, allowing his lips access to roam over my jaw until he finally covered my mouth with his and slid his tongue inside. He sucked on mine, and we matched each other stroke for stroke, but I had no doubt who was in charge. This wasn’t a simple kiss. This was possession.
His leg slid between mine, and his strong thigh pushed against my rapidly thickening dick. “Oh God, what the hell?” I choked out, the pleasure exploding like a fireball in my chest as I rode against him. I fought the greedy rush of hunger to be taken right there. I was ready for him to fuck me. I wanted… “Nate, please. Stop.”
Suddenly I stood alone, Nate stepping away immediately. I fought to remain standing, my legs weak, chest heaving with exertion to take in air. Flushed and wild-eyed, Nate braced his hands on his knees and bent at the waist, his harsh breath echoing in the empty house.
Not again.
