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“Do you always splash out for evenings like this?”
“Honestly, no.” I uncap the drinks and hand him one. “We’ve never done this before.”
“I’ll talk you through it.”
God, I hope he does. Not just because I’m nervous as hell, but because I imagine his voice coaching me through an orgasm might just blow my mind.
I swig my drink, swallowing quickly. “Have you done this before?”
“Once or twice.”
“Oh,” I laugh. “You get these kinds of offers a lot, then?”
His grin makes my knees quake. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
“One that looks like you’d be happy fucking someone’s wife with the husband as an audience?”
He splutters out a laugh, almost choking on his beer. “I think you’re dead on.”
This is easier than I thought it’d be. I mean, we’re not exactly at the sex part, but as nervous as I feel, it isn’t all consuming. I haven’t done my Sean Connery impression yet, and that’s always a good sign.
“What does your husband do?”
“Tech,” I say, tracking him as he makes his way to the window. “He has a late meeting, which is why he isn’t here yet.”
“A tech meeting now?”
I glance at my beer, rolling the edge of the label against the pad of my thumb. “He’s a busy guy.”
“You sound sad about that.”
My gaze snaps up. “Do I?”
Dean’s smile is warm. “Sorry, I overstepped. I think you make me nervous.” He approaches, and I’m stuck in place, half lost in his rapt attention, half obsessing over his comment. Am I sad that Zayden is busy? I’m busy, too. We have full lives, together and apart. Or is it what keeps him busy that bothers me?
“Silence,” Dean says softly, taking the beer out of my hands and placing both drinks on the nightstand. “Where did you go?”
I let out a small laugh. “Nowhere.”
“You’re here with me?”
Our eyes lock, and I nod. “I am.”
“Good,” he murmurs, sliding his hand around my waist and pulling me flush to his chest. “I want your focus right here. I want to be the only thing on your mind while I make you come.” The words send pulses of excitement through me. I close my eyes and swallow hard, resting my fingertips on his belt. “Your husband is taking a while. Or has he left us to it?”
“He …” I lose breath when he nibbles my earlobe. “He said he’d quite like to walk in on you with your face between my thighs.”
He groans in my ear, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “Is that what you want, Q? For me to eat your pussy?”
My heartbeat thrums between my legs, and Dean runs his finger across my shoulder, the strap of my dress falling and tickling my skin.
Why do you always attract dangerous men?
An acidic feeling coils around my stomach, stamping out the lust, setting my heart rate off for an entirely different reason. As Dean kisses across my shoulder, I open my eyes.
Something is wrong.
I grip his biceps in an attempt to create space between us. “Maybe we should wait for my husband.”
