Right here, sitting in this restaurant, he wants me.
Oh, I don’t harbor any delusions, I understand this is temporary. But how many women get the chance to live out their fantasy with the object of those fantasies? Not many.
No matter how uncomfortable. No matter how scary and unsure I am at being in the deep end of an unfamiliar pool, I’m going for it.
The waiter returns with our wine, saving me from having to respond. Lukas pulls away from me to nod at the bottle. I attempt to pay attention to the server, but Lukas’s fingers keep sliding up and down my bare shoulder as he goes through the tasting and pouring ritual.
He wants me.A smile slides over my lips as his hand brushes over my skin.
The waiter leaves and Lukas leans close, nipping my earlobe and making me jump. “What’s that smile for?”
I shrug, picking up my wineglass and taking a sip of the smoky Italian red he’d ordered. It slides down my throat, warming my stomach so I relax fractionally for the first time this evening.
“Tell me,” he insists, his hand lightly squeezing my shoulder.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to start all over.”And that you want me.
He laughs. “Careful, lavish compliments like that will give me a big head.”
The tight muscles in my neck loosen, and as I take another sip of the delicious wine, I look him up and down. All gorgeous and dangerous in his French-cut white button-down dress shirt. For a moment, I forget the situation and he’s back to being my neighbor. I grin. “I’m certain your head is plenty big.”
He grins right back. “Let’s talk about this list of yours.”
Ugh! Just when I’m getting comfortable, he has to bring that up? What on earth possessed me to write such an embarrassing list? Tension flooding to the forefront, I bury my face in my hands. “Do we have to?”
“Yes.” Amusement rings clear in his tone. His large hand rubs my neck. “Let’s start with number one.”
No! That’s the worst one of all!
I shake my head, wanting the floor to open up and swallow me. I had to go put it all in writing, didn’t I? Now there’s no way to pretend he’d misunderstood.
Damn my quest to become an adventurous wild woman. Dumb.
Unlike me, he seems perfectly relaxed with the conversation. “Have you ever had an orgasm? Or have you just not come with a man?” He finds a knot in my muscles and kneads the spot in slow circles.
It would have felt marvelous if not for the humiliating question on the table.
I look up at the ceiling decorated with large, intricate tiles. “You’re not really going to make me talk about this, are you? Can’t you…” I wave my hand in the air. “Take care of it and call it a day?”
He laughs. “Nope. Sorry, Abby.”
“But why?” Is it really necessary to embarrass me? Seems rather unconscionable and ungentlemanly to me.
One dimple flashes as he smiles. “That’s easy. You asked me to.”
“I most certainly did not,” I sputter, putting down my glass so I don’t spill it from the shock. Where’d he get such a crazy idea?
“Oh yes you did.”
“I never said anything about wanting to play true confessions.”
“You want to be handled. And I’m handling you.”
I furrow my brow. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?” His fingers continue their slow, almost lazy perusal, dropping to the curve of my neck then sliding back up again. “And what did you mean, Abby?”
I open my mouth then snap it shut. What had I meant? I lick my dry lips. “Um, I don’t know, exactly. I suppose it's like porn, I’ll know it when I see it.”