Page 101 of Stanton Unconditional

I screw up my face in shame. “I was naked and it was tantric and…”

“And?”

“And I was lying on my back with my legs on his chest and he did something to my hipbones and…” I throw my hand over my face in horror.

“And?” he snaps again.

“It made me orgasm.”

He folds his arms angrily in front of him. “Did he ask you if you wanted sex?”

I nod my head. “Yes,” I sigh as I cringe in embarrassment. “Why did you say no?”

I swallow the large lump in my throat. “Because you are the only man who gets to touch me there, Joshua, you know that,” I whisper nervously.

His eyes hold mine. “Good answer. And for the record if you go back to that massage parlor you will meet a grizzly painful death, and so will he.”

I smirk. “Okay.”

“Do you understand me?” he says dryly as he raises both of his eyebrows. “I am not even joking, Natasha. I’ve been picturing strangling you both all day.” I nod as I smile at him. He strokes my cheek with his hand and rubs his thumb over my lip tenderly. I lean into his touch. This is going better than I thought, he’s jealous. Surely that’s a good sign.

“Ready to go?” he smiles.

I nod and grab his hand. “Lead the way, Mr. Stanton.”

Half an hour later, we are being shown to our seat in the back of my favorite Italian restaurant. Joshua pulls out my chair for me and I sit nervously. He has been painfully quiet on the car trip from home to here. I thought it was going well but now I am nervous again. What is going through that brain of his?

The waitress brings us over two menus. “Would you like to order any drinks?”

“Yes, I will have a bottle of the Barossa Valley shiraz, please.” He raises his eyebrows at me in a question.

“Can I just have a Diet Coke, please?” I fold my hands in my lap nervously.

“Sure.” She smiles and leaves us alone.

He sits silently as he runs the side of his pointer back and forth over his closed lips, his thinking pose. His eyes are fixed on me.

I open my menu and pass him his.

“What are you having?” I ask. He shrugs as he reads it. “Do you come here often?” he asks.

I nod and smile. “Yes, this is Abbie’s and my favorite restaurant.”

His eyes meet my face. “Who was that guy Abbie was with last night?” he asks.

“Arm…I mean Tristan. Her sort of boyfriend.”

He frowns at me. “What does that mean? Sort of boyfriend?” He goes back to his thinking pose, finger over lip.

I shrug as I read my menu. “She is seeing him.”

“Are they exclusive?”

Shit, a trick question. If I answer no, then she sounds like a slut and if I answer yes, then she cheated on him yesterday with the masseur.

I shrug and smile. “Not sure.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Not sure,” he repeats.