Page 23 of Lie with Me
He expels a low feral growl as he hardens again under my touch.
“Thinking about me taking my clothes off?” I ask between starving kisses.
“I’m thinking about me ripping your clothes off.” He grabs my neck and plunges his tongue into my mouth.
“We still have to go to dinner,” I playfully remind him as I slow down my wrist action.
“I know.” He pants. “Dessert will be totally worth it.” He attacks me again, pressing his hand over mine as he flexes his hips. He lets out a muted whimper as if restraining himself from coming. I know he wants to. I know if his pride wasn’t in the way, he would fuck me right here in the backseat, driver watching and all. And I’d totally let him.
“Sir.” The driver suddenly clears his throat. “Arrived.”
We both inhale a collective breath as we hurry to putourselves back together.
“When we get back to the hotel.” CJ locks me against his body right before the driver opens the door. “I am going to break you.”
I widen my eyes. I think that is the most arousing threat I have ever received in my life. My clit actually cramps with need because I know without a doubt, he means it.
The restaurant is small, cozy, and dim inside. It’s all dark wood, extravagant furnishings, and candlelight. We’re seated in a semi-private booth in a corner of the room.
“Do you bring all your weekend flings here?” I toy with CJ as I look over the menu.
“Definitely not. Only my fantasy girl.”
I flick my eyes up. I didn’t miss the fact girl was not plural. I know I shouldn’t pursue it. I should just leave it alone. But I can’t help myself.
“And how many fantasy girls do you have?”
CJ smiles shrewdly, looking straight into my eyes. “Only one,” he discloses.
I try not to let the answer go to my head. But I’ll admit it just scored him a thousand bonus points.
I conceal my elation and draw my attention back to the menu. Everything looks outstanding. The waiter comes and goes, taking our drink orders and providing in detail the specials tonight—risotto with prosciutto and arugula, grilled octopus, and scallops sautéed in brown butter.
We opt to share some oysters as an appetizer. I’ve never had them before, so this should be interesting. I order the salmon as my main course, and CJ gets the veal saltimbocca.
“This is a little odd,” I admit as I take a sip of the red wine CJ suggested.
“What is?”
“Being out in public.”
“And not having to worry about someone trying to kill me?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “Something like that.”
“It is nice to share your company and know my balls are safe at the same time.”
“Yes, we both know how important your family jewels are.”
“Someone has to carry on the Carmichael name,” he jests.
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“I do. Two half-sisters from my mom’s second marriage.”
“Oh, well, you carry a heavy responsibility then. Do you want kids?”
CJ makes a conflicted expression. “I haven’t really given it much thought. My business,” he clears his throat, “keeps me pretty busy. I travel a lot and am involved in time-consuming transactions. I don’t know if that kind of lifestyle is conducive to a family.”
