Page 88 of Written By a Woman

“And what did she say in response?” I asked, wondering if my mother had blown my cover.

Signe furrowed her brows a bit, before chewing her bite and saying, “She just said you’re welcome.”

I relaxed my shoulders, knowing my mother was probably going to be a little snoopier for the time being, but it was worth it. Hopefully, if things went according to plan, she would be seeing a lot more of Signe anyway.

Though, I wanted to see more of Signe first.

I wanted her to get to know me, to trust me. Which, now that I thought about it…

“I asked my mother for the leftovers,” I rushed the words out, unable to take them back as Signe froze with a piece of naan hovering above her mouth, “She didn’t push them on me.”

Signe blinked a bit, before lowering her bread and asking, “You did?”

I nodded, in for a penny, in for a pound, “It was an immature act of jealousy, on my part.”

Signe’s eyebrows rose at my words before she shook her head once and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Hearing you talk about your lunch date,” I found myself tightening my hold on my water glass before loosening my grip, “It made me jealous. I didn’t want you going on another one. I figured if I could take up your time during lunch, you wouldn’t feel the need to. That, I don’t know, we could have our own lunch dates.”

Signe was silent, her wide hazel eyes staring at me. I squirmed in my seat under her stare and added, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overstepped like that.”

Slowly, Signe shook her head just once at me.

“I’m not sorry,” Signe’s voice was lower, a grin tugging at the corners of her tempting lips, “I’m flattered, mostly. I’m not against what you did.” She released a small, breathy giggle before taking a sip of her own water.

I returned her smile, “That’s a relief to hear.” I felt the muscles in my shoulders loosen at the admission, glad I could be honest with her.

I knew what she was about to tell me in Tennessee, but I tried to stop her from blurting out anything about her book. It was clear she was in distress at the time, and for some reason, I realized I didn’t want her to tell me like that. I didn’t want her to tell me about the book out of fear, but instead out of trust. Excitement for it, even.

Hopefully, me admitting this small piece of our history to her will help her lean in that direction more.

The dark green dress she was wearing made it very difficult to remind myself that I wanted to wait before sleeping with Signe. Something I momentarily lost control of in Tennessee, because I was seconds away from ripping all her clothes off and taking her right then and there.

The deep V-neck plunge of her dress made my mouth water when I picked her up at her apartment tonight, a small studio space. I could see all the furniture she owned when she opened her front door, including her bed. Which, because I was obsessed, made me visualize how she’d look in that bed if she let me touch her in the way that I dreamed about.

How it would look if I was the type of man who planned to take her back to her apartment after this dinner and slowly peel her dress off of her body.

I was desperate to see her curves, especially now that I knew how soft she was under my hands. I was entranced.

“Zaid?” Signe’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Hmm?” I asked, quickly taking another bite of food to hopefully distract myself.

“You’re staring at my cleavage.”

I felt heat, that didn’t come from my meal, stain my neck and ears, “I apologize.”

“You don’t have to,” Signe smiled, “I wore this specifically for you, so, it makes sense for you to look.”

I gave her a heated look, which made her eyes widen as she slurped another bite of her curry, her breathing hitching when my eyes locked on hers.

“Did you, now?” I asked, pushing my glasses farther up my nose.

“Is…is that all right?” It was one of the most self-conscious tones I had ever heard Signe use. I didn’t expect it. Signe had always given off an air of confidence I had desperately tried to match. I studied her as she avoided my gaze, a small but nervous smile on her lips as she studied the way her spoon dragged across her curry.

“Signe,” I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the edge of the table to provide a little more intimacy in this restaurant, “I have struggled to keep my eyes off you for a long time now.” At that, her gaze snapped up to meet mine, her lips parting a small fraction, “The thought of you choosing that dress,” I lifted my chin towards her, “with the motive of gaining my attention, makes me want to throw cash down on the table, drag you out of this restaurant, and lock us in the back seat of my car.”

Her breathing had picked up in speed, making her breasts heave behind the satin fabric of her dress, “Oh…what would we do there?”

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