Page 5 of Crave

“That’s for me to know,” I tease back.

“I already know, sweet Sandy.”

“What do you think you know, Jacob? And don’t call me sweet. It’s sexist.”

“You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve looked at every inch of my body now? Admit it. You like what you see. And if I want to call you sweet, I will.”

“I take it back about you being a gentleman.” I know his type. He’s the type who gets whatever he wants, a rich man who’s never been told no in his life.

“I can be whatever you want me to be.” His eyes remain fixed on my lips. They feel dry all of a sudden and I involuntarily lick them.

“I want you to be the kind of guy who introduces me to his doctor friend. That’s all I want.” I feign boredom with this conversation.

“I’m a gentleman, not a saint, and definitely not a martyr. Besides, he decided not to come to this party. His loss. Now I get to have you all to myself.” He reaches over and strokes my crazy, wild hair, putting a piece behind my ear. I pull back from his touch, but he’s unfazed. He positions a piece of hair behind my ear as if it’s a regular occurrence.

All around us, there’s activity. There are caterers and servers everywhere. I can hear talking and yelling all around me, but I can’t absorb any of it. Everything fades away as my eyes remain locked on a pair of brown pools of honey.

I reach my hand up to pat the hair he’s just touched in an attempt to erase the electric charge from his hand. I’m lost in those eyes and rendered speechless by just one touch. My mother, a very wise woman, always says that you can learn a lot from looking in someone’s eyes.

If you know what you’re looking for, she’d say, you can learn all you need to know about someone with just one look. The problem is, she never told us what to look for. Looking into Jake’s eyes now, I see wisdom, mischief, and playfulness. I see warmth radiating through their depths. Rich, deep, and sweet as well as intense and incredibly addicting. I could drown in those eyes.

“And now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?” I hold his gaze, unwilling to be the first to look away.

His lips curl up into a smile, that hint of mischief back in his eyes.

I claim a small victory when he averts his gaze first, but when he does, it’s only to look over my body from head to toe, sending shivers all through me.

I’ve been around handsome men before. I’ve been with my fair share of men, but this is new uncharted territory. This could be dangerous. I’m out of my depth here.

“So many things,” he says, his voice filled with promise as he locks eyes with me again. He reaches forward and traces a finger along my collarbone. I’m unable to breathe. I close my eyes at the touch and imagine his hands roaming other parts of my body. In an effort to gain the upper hand, I lay my hand on his and move it away from my neck.

“How very forward of you, Jacob. I don’t think you’re a gentleman at all.”

He leans in very close to my ear, his warm breath tingling against my skin. “Believe me, sometimes you won’t want me to be a gentleman.”

I open my mouth to respond but stop as an older gentleman approaches. He’s wearing a similar gray shirt as Jacob, and when he reaches us, he engulfs Jacob in a hug.

“Calm down, old man. I just saw you at the office yesterday.” They’re playful as the older of the two pretends to punch him in the stomach. I look closer and he looks like an older version of Jake, except his hair has gone completely gray and he’s clean shaven.

“You must be Sandy. My wife told me she asked you to stay. It’s lovely to meet you.” He extends his hand and I take it.

“Mrs. Clark is very kind, but I’ll be heading out soon. I’m meeting some friends for dinner.” I look towards the front door, ready to make my exit.

“Don’t do that. Don’t leave me with all these old people my wife invited.” He has the same playful eyes as his son.

“You’ll have Jake to keep you company.”

“I see his ass every day. I can’t get rid of him. Stick around and save me a dance, otherwise my wife’s eighty year old aunt will want to dance with me so she can pinch my ass.” He visibly cringes at the thought. “She’s a definite cougar, that one. Do you mind if I borrow my son for a minute, dear?”

“He’s all yours, Mr. Clark,” I say to him.

He kisses my hand one last time before he signals his son to follow him. Jacob reaches behind the bar and refills my wine glass.

“Stay right here,” he orders.

My eyes follow him as he reaches his father, who pulls him into a corner. I can’t see Mr. Clark’s movements, but Jacob goes from angry, to exasperated, to resigned.

Mr. Clark finally comes into my line of vision when he steps in front of Jake and points a finger directly in his face as he continues to talk. Jake raises both hands as if he’s surrendering and nods at his father. I pretend to be focused on my wine as they both walk back to where I’m sitting.

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