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“Aster.”
I scribble the name with my signature below. “There you go.”
“He’s going to be so happy. Thank you.” She looks past me at Leigh once more. “Don’t worry, he won’t break your heart. I can tell.”
I don’t react because I learned long ago that your nonverbal communication says much more than what comes out of your mouth. One nasty look or annoyed expression gets you bashed on social media within a minute or less. I place my arm around Leigh, my palm landing on her warm shoulder.
“I might just break his,” Leigh says, laughing and picking up her wineglass.
The older lady laughs and takes her husband’s hand next to her. “Or you two could be lucky like us. We met at a funeral and hit it off.”
“Now there’s a meet-cute,” Leigh continues the conversation, selling us as a couple by placing her hand on my thigh.
Fuck, her fingers are a mere six inches from my dick, and he wants badly to puff himself up and make up the difference.
I get it, buddy.
The clinking of glasses finally interrupts our conversation. Everyone turns toward Jack and Mila, watching as they come together for a kiss.
“They’re adorable,” Leigh says. “She told me how she crushed on him pretty hard for a long time.”
I turn to look at her, and our faces are close as if we’re a real couple. Our eyes lock, my blue meeting her brown, but neither of us pulls away.
“Jack said he noticed her but wanted to prove himself to her first.”
She shrugs as though she’s not buying it.
The salads are delivered, and thankfully the other table guests are involved in their own conversations.
“I thought it was admirable.” Which is true. I mean, I know Jack. He’s a go-getter, has a bunch of life goals in a checklist in chronological order by age that he hopes to reach.
She leans her body into mine, and unlike the grandma on my left, Leigh knows how to lower her voice. “It’s nice, sure, but if a man wants me, I hope nothing will hold him back. That all he could think about was me until he had me all to himself.” She straightens, and I miss the way her long hair tickled my neck.
“Are you suggesting I throw you over my shoulder firefighter-style and carry you to room 1498?”
She laughs. “I’d settle for a more subtle exit, but once we’re in the elevator alone, it’d be game on.”
Yeah, she’s got my blueprint.
“You say the word, and I’ll make our excuse.”
She eyes the table. Sure, they’re talking with one another, but she sees, as I do, what people think are sly glances our way. “After dinner. When dancing starts, you can make your move, Mr. Heartbreaker.”
I lift my wrist to check the time. I can hold myself over for another hour, max. But the urge to impress this woman erupts inside me. None of the bullshit lines will work on her. “An hour of torture. Pain before pleasure. Got it.”
She stabs her fork into the lettuce on her plate. “Torture?”
“I’m being polite in abiding by your wishes, but for the next hour, having my mouth between your thighs will be the only thing on my mind.”
Her lips part slightly, and a lust-crazed aura washes over her face. The exact expression I was hoping for. “Well, eat fast then.”
“Sure, right now I will, but up in room 1498, I’ll be taking my time.”
“Jesus,” she murmurs, stabbing the innocent lettuce again.
Oh, tonight is going to be fun with a capital F. Emphasis on the F.
Four
