Page 5 of Tell Me It’s Forever

CHAPTER THREE

gennie

“An espresso martini, please,” I say quickly to the hostess. She inputs the order in her handheld device. I should probably stay away from caffeine, especially with my nerves already on edge, but the alcohol might help calm my ever-racing heart.

“Of course. And for you, sir?” Her eyes move from the tablet to Gavin’s, and I notice her staring a smidge too long. Can’t say that I blame her. The man is burn-the-sheets-up hot.

“A Macallan, neat,” Gavin adds, his tone rich, commanding, and entirely unbothered. “We’ll also take an order of the mini lobster rolls to start.” He doesn’t bother looking at the menu in front of him.

“I’ll be right back with your order. Your server will be Ariel tonight. I hope you enjoy your dinner.” She glances from Gavin to me then takes her leave, letting the heavy curtain fall back into place.

We’re alone, really alone.

I swallow hard, staring straight at the flickering candle in the center of the table as I try my darndest and utterly fail to not fidget. My best friends begged me into buying this dress, insisting that it’s timeless, effortless, and accentuates all of the right curves. A complete one-eighty from the dress Jett suggested, which was two sizes too small thanks to some new curves I gained after kicking my ex out of my life. While most women have a glow-up, lose copious amounts of weight, I did things differently. Then again, that’s probably because said ex always talked about my weight and I was constantly starving myself to fit into a mold that isn’t me.

What my friends conveniently left out was how much skin it exposes once I actually sit down. The hem rides up a few daring inches over my thighs, and the plunging neckline suddenly feels like a siren’s song drawing every bit of light—and every bit of Gavin’s intense attention. Worse than the dress, though, is the man sitting right beside me. There isn’t an inch of space between the two of us once he slid into the curved booth, so close his broad shoulder brush against mine while his arm rests lazily along the top of the bench behind my head. The sheer heat radiating off his body has me burning up, and my flesh pebbles everywhere our bodies touch, a hum settling deep between my thighs.

I subtly shift my hips, trying to pull a fraction of an inch away to catch my breath. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on the way you look at it, Gavin catches the movement, judging by the sharp flare of his nostrils as he inhales deeply, his eyes darkening into a shade that’s nearly black as he tracks my small adjustment.

“Genevieve,” he rumbles softly, his deep voice vibrating near my ear.

“It’s warm in here,” I manage to say, attempting to take my jacket off without wiggling in my seat any more than I already have.

“Let me.” A faint, wicked tilt touches the corner of his lips. The only problem with that is that his hands will be on me, which will do nothing to calm down my buzzing body. As it is, I give a nod before giving him my back. He pulls the fabric from the tops of my shoulders down, the tips of his fingers grazing my skin the entire way. The silence that settles between us is thick, heavy with a promise of what’s to come. It makes my mouth go dry. Once the fabric is off my body, I lean back against the leather, forcing myself to meet his piercing gaze. Up close, without the distance of a room between us, the sheer perfection of his face is overwhelming, the shadowy dusting of dark stubble and his gray eyes that seem to read my every dirty thought running through my mind.

Maybe Mischa is right: the best way to get over an ex-boyfriend is to get under a man, a real man.

“Thank you,” I begin, my voice a little lighter than I feel. “So, are you always this take charge?” He ordered our starter before I even looked at the menu.

“When it comes to good food, yes,” he replies, his hand casually dropping from the top of the booth to settle on my knee. His large palm is heavy, burning straight through the fabric of my dress. I half hope he’ll pull the chiffon up and go a lot further. Instead, he keeps it there, further making my desire go up a notch. “Besides, you look like you need someone to take care of you, if only for a night.”

“You’re so sure?” His thumb begins to trace tiny agonizing circles just below the hem, making my breath hitch in my throat.

“I’m more than sure.”

“And how do you know this?” I look at the crisp black dress shirt that’s currently straining against his muscular build.

“I’m great with making observations. You don’t get to where I am without watching people.” He lets out a low, rough chuckle that makes my pulse jump. “I don’t spend all of my time behind a desk if I can help it. I like building empires, creating experiences, and controlling outcomes.” He licks his lips, making my eyes flutter downward to catch the movement. “Hospitality is a polite word for making sure every detail and every desire ends up exactly where you want it, when you want it.” The double entendre is not lost on me. If anything, it makes my breasts feel heavy and my thighs clench to relieve the ache building inside me.

“Which explains you being a CEO of the Summit House.” I could really use my drink right about now.

“You did your research, I see. I guess that leaves me in the dark. Tell me about yourself, Genevieve.” Gavin Rhodes is definitely a lion in sheep’s clothing.

“I work at Sterling Capital in the marketing department. It’s organized chaos, and I love every minute of it. I put out fires created by people who think branding is picking pretty colors.” A small laugh escapes me, and I relax slightly into his side. “It’s fast-paced, a lot of strategy, a lot of late nights trying figure out how to make the product appeal to the consumer, and they always need the marketing plan ten minutes ago.”

“Sounds like you’re good at what you do,” he murmurs, his hand sliding an inch higher up my thigh, dragging the dress with it. My heart races, and a sharp gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it. “A woman who knows how to get what she wants.”

“I try.” Having no idea what to do with my hands, I keep them placed on the wooden table. “Though right now, I feel like I’m a little out of my depth.” The admission rolls off my tongue without a second thought.

“Good. I like you right where you are. Vulnerable. Honest.” Our drinks arrive, along with a marble platter holding four delicate, beautifully prepared mini lobster rolls. The hostess sets them down along with our drinks. I reach for my espresso martini with a hand that isn’t entirely steady and take a slow sip. The rich, dark coffee and sweet liqueur wash over my tongue, giving me a moment to gather my composure. Gavin does similar, only he swirls the dark amber before taking a quiet drink, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the cut crystal.

“How old are you, Genevieve?” The directness of his question makes me blink.

“Twenty-five. You?”

“Forty-four.” He sets his glass down with a light clink. “Nineteen years.”

“Does that bother you?” I place my elbow on the table, resting my chin on the palm of my hand.