My clit throbs with the images flashing through my mind.
“No ties, no expectations,” he says.
“No phone numbers exchanged, no names.” I stop myself after the last bit. “Nothing but one night and then we walk away.”
The thrill of the idea is exhilarating. I’ve never had a one-night stand before. But with him, it’s all I can hope for. It’s all I can give.
Why not end my bachelorette days with a man like him. Powerful, dominant, sexy.
“No real names.” He leans forward again, his forearms pressing into the edge of the table. “But I need to call yousomething. ‘Hey, you’ doesn’t really roll off the tongue, you know?”
I laugh. “Right. Good point. Okay, fake names.”
“Good.” He nods. “What’s yours?”
“Christiana,” I say without hesitation. It’s my middle name, easy for me to remember. “You?”
“Bob.”
I laugh again, this time loud enough a couple sitting in a booth beside us turn to look our way.
“Bob?”
“What’s so funny about Bob?” He feigns hurt.
“You don’t look anything remotely like a Bob.”
“No? What do I look like then?”
I tilt my head, squint my eyes and study him. “Hmmm. You look like something out of a mobster movie, but not the Italian mob. You’re not Italian.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “God, no.”
“Right.” I try not to take offense. “Okay, not Italian, but I’d say definitely eastern European. It’s the jaw, you have a square jaw.”
“You have an issue with my jaw?” He huffs a laugh.
“No. No issue.” I put up both hands. “I like your jaw. It tenses when you don’t like something.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Like when I didn’t drink the water, you had a little tick right here.” I tap the same spot on my jaw where I’d seen it in his.
“Well, you were being a little brat about that. But don’t worry, I have a way to fix that.”
“Oh?” My brow raises now. “How?”
“You’ll see. But back to my name. You don’t like Bob.”
“You look more like a Dmitri.” I nod. “Yes, something like that.”
He laughs. “All right, Christiana, Dmitri it is.”
“Okay. Dmitri.” I take a long gulp of my cranberry drink, shifting my eyes toward Kara and Rosa.
They’re still embattled in their conversation, armed now with the chicken egg rolls I’d asked for.
“What do you do, Dmitri?” I ask casually. “I mean, if we can ask that sort of thing?”
