“Is showing up at someone’s house to return their panties wild enough?” he asks me. “Or maybe it’s when I showed up at someone’s house to bring her coffee, even though it was nighttime, and I knew I wasn’t going to drink the coffee.”
The bark of laughter leaves me. “I mean, thank you for returning my panties.”
“Vincent found them in the car,” he tells me. My mouth opens and I think the color literally runs out of my face. “It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “I snatched it before he was able to have it hang on his finger.”
“What did you say?” I ask him.
“I told him it was a napkin.” We both laugh and I shake my head. “What about you?”
“Hmm.” I pull my hand back and think, even though I kind of know the answer. “Emailing someone with the hopes that they’d call me.” I see his eyes catch onto what I’m saying. “You still haven’t paid”—I point at him, making sure he knows the email was for him—“by the way.”
“I was going to pay it on the plane but then I forgot, I’ll do it first thing tomorrow,” he assures me. “Which do you like more…” He looks into my eyes, the smirk on his face making him look ruggedly handsome. “sending dirty texts or dirty talk in person?”
“Dirty talk in person, for sure, but I’m not opposed to the dirty texts,” I point at him. “if you’re going to talk dirty in person within the hour.”
“I’ve never gotten a dirty text,” he remarks and I gawk at him.
“You were married,” I point out. “You went on the road.”
“Yeah,” he nods, “and a lot of it was ‘I can’t wait for you to get home.’ Or ‘I can’t wait to get home to you.’”
“So, you have never texted ‘I can’t wait to fuck your brains out’ to someone before?” I ask, shocked, and I see his abs move from silently laughing.
“I have not. You have?”
“No,” I shake my head, “but I’ve never been married.” I finish the second glass of wine. “What is the most times you’ve had sex in a single day?”
“Three,” he says and I scrunch my nose. “I think that’s my cap.”
“We had sex three times the last time,” I remind him, “and that is only because it was time to go to bed.”
“Yeah, we would have done it two more times, at least.”
“At least,” I repeat and stop talking when the first plate of appetizers comes out. I grab my fork, stabbing a meatball before asking him, “Do you prefer giving or receiving?”
“It’s my turn,” he says, stabbing his own meatball, “but that’s a good question so I’ll answer it.” He smirks. “I definitely love receiving,” I roll my eyes, “but I prefer giving.” The part of me he likes giving it to contracts. “There’s something about giving someone pleasure, it’s so much better than getting it.”
“Yeah,” I agree and I’m pretty sure I’m panting it out.
“You?” His eyes are on mine. I think we are both in uncharted territory.
“I like,” I start to say, “to give him pleasure while I’m receiving the pleasure.” I see his Adam’s apple bob. “Sitting on his face and then just bending to take him in my mouth.” Our eyes never stray from one another. “What’s better than that?” I take my hand and move it around the rim of the glass. “Letting him feel what he’s doing to me.” I feel the back of my neck warm up. “Doing it in sync so both of us can get us there at the exact same time.” I tilt my head to the side. “That has to be my favorite.” I don’t even know why I answered that way because I have never, ever done it. Like ever, but I want to, and I want to do it with him.
“How are we doing over here?” The waiter comes over, interrupting the moment of tension between us.
“I don’t know about you,” I say, picking up my glass, “but it’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?”
“It is,” he agrees, his eyes still on mine.
“I’ll see if we can turn up the air conditioner,” he says, turning.
“Somehow,” I snort, “I don’t think that is going to help.” I burst out laughing and so does Knox. “This is nice.”
“It is,” he agrees, nodding. “One of the best nights I’ve had in a while.”
twenty-three
Knox
