I barely glanced up when the waiter walked away. “You already ordered for us?”
“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” He lifted my chin. “Don’t take your eyes off me.” He rocked his palm against me, stretching me to the edge. “Tell me how you feel.”
“Slutty, like I’m doing something wrong, filthy.”
He pumped his fingers deeper, in and out, fast. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Do you want me? Do you want my cock inside you now?”
“God, yes.” I nodded, my legs parting, my hand groping for his cock. “Oh, you’re so fuckin’ hard.”
He gritted his teeth, taking my hand off him. “I’ll come in my pants if you do that.”
My head fell back against the booth, and he licked my throat, sliding a third finger inside me. My own fingers dug into his leg as my climax tore through my body. I pressed my face into the shoulder of his tux, stifling my cries.
He stilled before kissing my lips. “I love you.” He pulled his fingers out. “Do you love me?”
I breathed out, gazing at his loving eyes. “I have never loved, never will love, anyone like I love you, Mike.”
A grin lit his face as he got the phone out of his pocket. “When the clock strikes twelve, I want you to remember what you just said.” He lifted the fingers that were inside me and licked them one by one, watching me.
The view scrambled my thoughts, muting them. Even after what he’d just given me, I wanted to climb in his lap and take all of him inside. I shook my head, glancing at the screen. “Were you right?”
2:51.
His grin grew wider.
Scene66
Maggie
I put my concerns aside and enjoyed the night as we ate and danced. Mike was an expert in getting me to loosen up.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I nodded and watched him go. The band finished playing their song, and the lights were switched off in the club, with the exception of the decorative string lights.
“Maggie Dawson, this one is for you.” Mike’s voice sounded from a microphone, and I whipped my head in its direction. The lights came back on. Mike was on the stage, sitting on a stool, a guitar resting across his thigh.
Oh. My God.
“This song is called ‘Hear Your Heart,’” he said.
Another James Bay song that I loved.
I took a deep breath as he started strumming the soft melody, my pulse quickening. I was sung to once in my life. By a Russian drummer I dated when I first returned after college. At a party that ended pretty much the same way Tony’s Christmas party ended.
This time, it was Mike who was going to do it, the man I’d always run to on these occasions. To whom was I going to run now?
The answer came quick. Quiet. Assured.
Him. I’d still run to him. Willingly. Happily.
As he started, his mesmerizing voice put a smile on my lips. The voice that brought me to pieces and made me whole again.
He reached the chorus, his eyes intent on my face.
