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“Thank you.” I smile, unsure how to respond. I want to tell him how much I like him, care for him, that I’m falling for him, but I freeze.
“I think I heard your stomach growl a moment ago so let’s get you fed.” He releases me, stepping into my kitchen and pointing toward the cabinets. “Plates?”
“I’ll get them; you unpack the food.” I grab two plates and silverware as he removes his shoes, then proceeds to pull out several containers of pasta, shrimp salad, regular salad, a panini, and even a dessert or two.
“Are more people coming over?” I laugh as I reach for two wineglasses and the corkscrew. “Or are you eating for two?”
He steps up behind me, grabbing the glasses from the shelf I’m attempting to reach, and places them on the counter. His body is pressed slightly against me. He reaches up, pulling my hair back to expose my neck as he leans in to kiss it gently.
“You might be after I forgot protection earlier.”
My eyes flutter at the contact of his warm breath against my skin, his hand coming around to rest against my lower belly. Heat unfurls in my body, but it’s not just because of his proximity; it’s because of what he just said. Instead of sounding scared, he almost sounds—hopeful.
“Let’s hope not,” I say playfully, attempting to dissipate the tension.
He turns me to face him, his hips pressing me into the counter as his hands slide up my body to rest on either side of my face. He stares at me; his eyes look as though they’re trying to convey something.
“Would you tell me if you were?”
My mouth falls open, shocked at the question, but I quickly nod my head. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Good.” He leans in, kissing me, this time his tongue sweeping into my mouth several times. When he pulls back, his expression has completely changed. “Now, let’s eat.”
He dishes up a plate of food for each of us while I pour us a glass of wine.
“Sorry again. I don’t really have space for a dinner table in here,” I apologize as we sit on the couch to eat.
“No apology necessary.”
We sit and eat in silence for a few moments before he asks, “So why are you home alone on a Friday night?”
“I’m usually home alone on a Friday night.” I laugh. “My birthday celebration was the first time I’ve gone out in almost two years.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise as he takes a sip of his wine. “What about you, Mr. Gates? Why aren’t you out with models at some hot new club on a Friday night? Oh wait, I forgot. That’s why you hired me to keep you in line.”
He looks over at me with an unamused expression on his face. “That is not the reason why I’m not out doing those things. I’d much rather be here with you. Besides, I’m an old man now.”
“You’d rather be in a tiny apartment with a woman who’s already in her pajamas before eight p.m. than hanging out with hot models?” I roll my eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”
He slowly places his plate on the coffee table, then reaches for me after doing the same with my plate.
“Hey, I wasn’t do—” Before I can finish, he’s grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. I stumble and he pulls me down so that I’m sitting on his lap.
“Do we need to have a little talk again, Miss James, about that tongue of yours?” His hand is planted firmly at the base of my neck, keeping my gaze focused on him. “I recognize that you are probably sore from your punishment earlier today but don’t think I can’t come up with plenty of other creative ways to send a message. I am here tonight because I want to be. I don’t care if we don’t fuck, if we watch a movie, or talk about nonsense all night. I’m here because I want to be with you.” He reaches up with his other hand and gently taps the underside of my chin. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” He helps me up and turns me to sit back on the couch. “Now, finish your dinner.”
“What were you like in school?” I ask as I recline on the couch, my feet casually in Cyrus’ lap as he rubs them. We finished dinner, had a little dessert, and have been sipping on our wine for the last hour as we talk about anything and everything.
“High school or college?”
“Both.” The wine has made me warm, relaxed, all insecurities about earlier gone.
“During high school and college, I was outgoing, quarterback on the football team, class president. Grad school, not as much. I still played football and was active in some groups, editor of the Booth Review, but kept more to myself.”
“Any particular reason why?” I have a pretty good idea why considering everything Lisa told me about his father but I don’t want to offer up that information. Part of me feels guilty that I know so much about it already.
He finishes his wine, reaching for the bottle. He offers it to me first, topping mine off before finishing the rest himself.
