November 12
I stare at my reflection,giving my lips a final coat of gloss. I rub them together, the silky texture soft against my skin, then use a finger to clean up the edges. I step back, giving myself a final once-over when Matt enters the bathroom. His gaze meets mine in the mirror, the corner of his mouth ticking up as he walks toward me.
“Damn, babe,” he says.
His fingers graze the top of my shoulders, then sketch down my bare back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I watch in the mirror as his eyes follow, darkening when his hands reach the base of my spine before sliding around my waist, slipping through the open sides of my dress.
He leans in, kissing my jaw before murmuring, “How do you expect me to behave tonight when you’re wearing a dress like this?”
I grin, spin around, and smooth my palms up his chest. “I don’t.”
He moves to kiss me, but I turn my head, giving him my cheek instead. “Sorry,” I say, “I just applied gloss.”
My gaze drifts over his handsome features. “You sure you don’t want to invite anyone to come out tonight? Even just Megan and Kevin? I know it’s last minute, but…” My hands skim across the front of him, eyes following, taking in the firm muscle beneath my fingertips. My gaze lifts to his. “It’s your birthday,” I say softly.
“All I want for my birthday is to spend the night with you, babe.” He flashes a grin. “And for you to sit on my face later.”
I laugh. “The morning blow job wasn’t enough, huh?”
He shakes his head. “I want to end the night with you coming on my tongue.”
Heat flickers low in my stomach, skittering outward.
He gives my ass a light smack before grabbing a handful. “We need to leave. You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m ready. I just need to get my shoes.”
I walk to the closet and slip into the new pair of Manolos Matt brought home the other day. You know, because he felt like it.
I’m excited for tonight, even if part of me still finds it weird he chose to spend his birthday with just me. That’s not like Matt. He’s thrown a massive party every year for as long as I can remember.Everyonewe know goes.
I’ve asked him multiple times about it, and his answer’s been the same every time. He only wants to spend the night with me. It’s just another thing to add to the list of ways Matt shows he loves me.
I look down at my feet.Damn.These shoes are fucking gorgeous.
I snatch a clutch from the shelf and step out of the closet, meeting Matt with a smile that says everything. I can’t wait to spend the night with him.
Matt swings openthe restaurant door for me, his hand resting at the small of my back as I step into the cold November air. I pull my coat tighter around me, crossing my arms over my chest.
Pete’s already waiting at the curb.
Dinner was ridiculously good, a five-star steakhouse at the topof a high-rise overlooking the Hudson. Matt said we could go somewhere that had more vegetarian options, but it’s his birthday, and he loves this place. He lives for that tomahawk steak the way I live for a new pair of shoes.
I ordered the Brussels sprouts and a salad, then drank most of my calories in the bottle of wine he insisted on.
Needless to say, I’m a little tipsy.
I slide into the Bentley, and Matt shuts the door behind me. I shrug out of my coat, and a moment later, he settles into the seat beside mine, his hand landing on my thigh like it belongs there.
His fingers trace smooth strokes along my bare skin, lighting a small fire deep in my core.
God. How many times has his hand been there?
Hundreds? Thousands?
Yet somehow it still feels like the first. Still sparks that immediate, reckless need for him.
I turn toward him with a soft smile. “Thanks for dinner.”
