Page 84 of Brooklynaire
Then she licks her lips, and I can’t resist any longer. I close the distance and lean into the kiss. Our lips come together softly. There is, after all, another small human between us. This one kiss is all I’m going to get. So I make it a good one. I part her lips, gently touching my tongue to hers just once before Iretreat.
She’s looking up at me in a lust hazenow.
And I cannot fucking wait until tomorrownight.
19
Rebecca
May 22, Brooklyn
“That’s it.I can’t eat another bite.” I set down my fork on the dessert plate and lean back in mychair.
“Quitter.” Nate uses his spoon to scrape the last of the chocolate raspberry soufflé we’d shared into his ownmouth.
Splitting desserts with Nate is something I’ve donebefore.
Sitting alone with him in a fine restaurant in a dress designed to show off my cleavage isnot.
We’re at the River Café, where Nate slipped the maître d’ a C-note to ensure this perfect table against the windows. We just had one of the best meals in Brooklyn, with nothing but the lights of Manhattan and the East River as ourview.
A lit-up yacht glides past the window as I watch Nate sign the check. “Nice pick, Nate. But I would have been happy withanything.”
“What?” he raises his eyes to me, and they look even darker in the candlelight. “You with the deep opinions aboutfalafel?”
“Okay—fine.” I smile back at him. “Not justanything. But you don’t have to impress me with gourmetextravagance.”
He makes a face that says,oh please. “You think I don’t know that? You’re fun, Bec. Next month I’m going to China with Lauren, and she won’t eat the street food I’m going to want to try. You’ve always had a good sense of adventure. I love that aboutyou.”
My face heats at this compliment. I’m not used to hearing things like this from him. This evening has been both utterly familiar and completely strange. Conversation was never tricky because we know all the same people and we can’t help ourselves from talking about hockey all night. Meanwhile, Nate held my hand under thetable.
I liked it. A whole lot. Even now I have the urge to climb over the table and kiss him. And yet a month ago I wouldn’t have been thinking that at all. “You know…” I clear my throat. “This is its own kind ofadventure.”
“Exactly,” he says, closing the bill folder. “And that’s why we’re here tonight and not at the falafel shop. I’m not trying to wow you with the twenty-dollar dessert. Although itwasexquisite. I’m only trying to show you that tonight is not business asusual.”
The waiter comes by to pick up the check. I don’t give it a second glance. I don’t bother trying to pay half, because Nate has more money than God, and he wouldn’t letme.
That doesn’t mean I’m not conflicted about seeing Nate. But my hesitation is far more complicated than the dinnercheck.
And yet here Iam.
I pick up my champagne glass and drain the last drop. I ordered a half glass just to piss Nateoff.
And he didn’t say aword. Smart man. “Okay, adventure guy.” I set down the glass. “Are you ready togo?”
His smile says,am Iever.
We retrieve my coat and walk outside. It’s a cool night, but there are lots of people milling around the pier where ice cream is sold, and there’s a brilliant view of the Brooklyn Bridge. But Nate leads me up the street, away from thecrowd.
Back toward hisplace.
I don’t argue, even though I feel a riffle of nervous anticipation in my belly. “Where’s Ramesh? Are you giving him theslip?”
“No.” Nate reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I gave him the nightoff.”
“Really? Can you dothat?”
“Sure. I mean—some other member of my security team is likely watching a dot move on a screen somewhere, tracking my movements. There is always someone paying attention.” He stops walking and turns to me. “That’s not a selling point, isit?”
