“And your cock?”
“And my cock,” he confirms with a laugh. “We’ll remain professional in all public settings… for now.”
My levity ceases, and I sigh, “What do you mean for now?”
“Until we decide together that it’s okay for the world to know you’re mine.”
Ten years ago, I would’ve melted into a damn puddle hearing that. Now, I’m still a little gooey, but this isn’t a movie or one of my favorite books. Here in the real world, we don’t have the luxury to indulge ourselves. “Jamie, as hot as that line is, there’s more to worry about than me being single. There’s my career, your career, Olivia’s legacy… and my baby. We both have to be a thousand percent sure this is more than two people who had an amazing week in Canada. Until then, whatever happens needs to be behind closed doors, away from work.”
“Perfect.” He stands and offers his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
I place my hand in his, spotting his missing watch and bandage. “Yes.”
“Then shall we?”
“Shall we what?”
“We have plans tonight, Ms. Raine.”
As he helps me up, we’re too close, and this is exactly why all of this is dangerous. His adorable boyish grin appears and forget being gooey—I’m the damn puddle. “Just dinner, Mr. Wilson?” He doesn’t reach for me, and I keep my hands to myself. “I won’t need to worry about being dragged into the bathroom to be bent over?”
Jamie tilts my chin with his thumb and forefinger, and I anticipate a kiss that never comes. He leans in, our noses brushing, and my entire body aches for him to own me like he did earlier. He doesn’t, instead pulling back, and quietly asking, “You want me to fuck you so hard you nearly pass out? I’m up for the challenge, but like you suggested, it’ll have to happen at your place or mine. We made a deal, remember. I’m a man of my word, so no matter how much I want to slip my hand under your skirt right now to see how wet you are for me, you’ll need to wait for later. Also, we have dinner reservations we’re going to be late for.”
“And what if this all goes south?”
“Then I’ll try again until I get what I came here for.”
19
Jamie
On the short walk to the restaurant, my palms itch to take Aubrey’s hand. I've been acting on instinct and impulse since I got here and need to get my head on straight. It’s reckless, and as she pointed out, it could ruin more than one career if we aren’t strategic.
She’s nervously blabbering about various restaurants and stores we pass that she recommends, but I couldn’t care less about any of it. Back home, I was always on a strict budget to save to travel, never eating out more than once a week. There is no use in changing my habits now that I’m here, and I intend on resuming my weekly meal prep to keep expenses to a minimum.
Except Aubrey not only comes from money; she married into it too. I have no desire to be a millionaire, live in a large apartment, or spend my hard-earned money on anything more than the necessities. For this to work, she’ll need to be okay with me getting creative when it comes to dates. Dinner and coffee are great for conversation, but I also want to explore the city with her—museums, parks, local festivals, all of it. Most of our time together when she was in Canada was spent with mebetween her legs or in settings where we had to focus on work-related discussions in case anyone overheard us. Not much has changed, and I won’t be able to take her on a proper date where I pick her up, take her out, or kiss her goodnight at the end. We’ll have to be careful, but it’s a small price to pay to win over the girl of my dreams.
I open the door to the restaurant for Aubrey and as she walks past me, I get a waft of her perfume. It’s different than I remember, more floral, almost like the rose garden I walked through today. I want to slink my arm around her and bury my face in her neck to breathe it in. Maybe I’ll indulge myself later. For now, I need to keep my hands—and nose—to myself.
We make our way to the host stand and I give them my information, then a man dressed similarly to me leads the way to a table tucked in the corner, lit only by a few tealights in holders. While the menu gave me the impression this would be more of a casual dining experience, this doesn’t feel like the sort of restaurant you’d come to for a dinner meeting with a colleague. But if anyone asks, I’ll plead ignorance being new to the area.
We open our menus, and after a quick scan, Aubrey announces, “Would you like to split something?”
“Are the portions big here?”
“No, it’s just that—okay, this is going to sound stupid—but do you remember the night we met?”
“Yeah.” I nod, but also how the hell could I forget? I’ve been obsessed with her from the moment she slid onto the barstool.
“Well, that night, I was thinking about how I missed dining with someone so I could share a meal with them.”
“You’re already eating for two, and I’m starving, so why don’t we get an appetizer to share, maybe a side salad or soup, then we can split a main course and dessert?”
“That sounds perfect.” A wide smile splits her face, and I don’t think I’ve seen her this relaxed since I arrived in California—with the exception of our short time in a supply closet this afternoon.
She continues to peruse the menu when a server approaches. “Good evening. My name is Walter. Can I get you two started with drinks?”
He looks at me expectantly, but I gesture for Aubrey to start. She hums to herself before replying, “May I have an unsweetened iced tea with lemon?”
