Victoria Dahl - The Guy Next Door

Her mind worked frantically as they exchanged numbers. Her hand trembled as he handed her the wine list. She had to say something, right? Or should she just let things take their natural course? “Jamie…” she finally blurted out—and a waitress appeared as if by magic.

“What would you like this evening?” the girl asked.

Good question.

He smiled. “Do you have any recommendations?”

Yes, Beth thought. How about the hottest sex I’ve ever had and not a peep out of you afterward?

The server rattled on, but Beth couldn’t concentrate. He had spread his hand out on the table, and she could only stare at it. That hand might be touching her later.

“Beth?” he prompted.

“Oh! What are you going to have?”

“The Shiraz, but I’m no wine expert. You might want to—”

“I’ll have that, too.”

He gave her a helpless smile and shrugged. “Okay, two glasses of the Shiraz.” When the waitress disappeared, he leaned closer. “We should’ve gone somewhere with beer. I’d feel much more confident and manly while ordering.”

Beth couldn’t keep up her worried monologue when he was smiling so close to her. And she’d been right about him. He did smell good. Like starched cotton and soap. As though he should be on the cover of a Polo catalog. Beth’s heart shook with nervous joy. “You seem manly enough.”

“Oh, manly enough?”

“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Notice I qualified it with ‘seem.’”

“Ouch. I didn’t know you were into sadism.”

She laughed, but his smile slipped a little. “Um, you’re not into sadism, are you?”

“Oh, God,” she laughed, tears springing to her eyes in amused relief. He looked so worried. Did he only want her to be a normal girl? What a nice change. “No,” she finally said. “I am not a sadist. Or a masochist, if that’s your next question.”

“Good. I didn’t think you looked—I mean, not that people look a certain way. Or that I thought this was leading to a… That we would… Ah, shit.”

He leaned his head back against the cushion as Beth laughed until she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I’m sorry.”

The waitress delivered their wine and he snatched his up with a muttered, “Thank God.”

If he was nervous, then maybe this was okay. Maybe she wasn’t a failure. Maybe this kind of sexual tension was supposed to make you nervous.

She suddenly felt so much better that she scooted a little closer while he wasn’t looking and clicked her glass against his. “Cheers.”

He opened his eyes and his gaze dipped to her mouth as she put the glass to her lips. “Cheers,” he murmured back.

“Mmm. It’s good. Your manhood is safe with me.”

He tasted the wine and his eyebrows rose. “That is good. How could you ever have doubted me?”

“I didn’t really. In fact, I’ve heard amazing things about you.”

“Oh.” A pink flush rose up his face.

“I’m sorry. Was that rude? It’s just that…”

“Beth—”

“Listen,” she interrupted. “I just…” She leaned even closer. Her arm brushed his, and the crisp hair on his forearm sent pleasure sizzling through her. “Jamie,” she whispered, “can I be completely honest with you?”

ERIC WAS FILLED WITH a strange and arousing mixture of lust and guilt. Her arm slid along his, and a very interesting amount of cleavage was exposed when she leaned so close to him. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and every time she said “Jamie” it was rubbing his conscience raw. Now she was offering complete honesty?

He would have stopped her if he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her thoughts.

“You know where I work.”

He nodded and watched her pink lips touch the edge of her glass. She drank, and when she lowered the wine, her lips were even pinker. Ruby-red and touched with dampness. Eric’s mouth went dry.

He felt hypnotized, and when her knee brushed his, he reached automatically to touch it. Beth inhaled sharply, and those ruby lips parted just the tiniest bit.

“Because of my job,” she continued, the words slightly breathless. “You might think…”

Fascinated by her response and drawn in by her soft skin, Eric rubbed his little finger along the inside of her knee. She edged her leg closer to his, parting her knees, giving him space. His mind tumbled over in a primal surge of victory.

“What I’m trying to say,” she whispered, “is that I don’t usually do this.”

“This?” he repeated. Her skin was so hot. He spread his fingers wider, edging them past her knee to her thigh.

“Yes,” she breathed. “This.” And her hand pressed atop his.

This was wrong. Because she didn’t know who he was. Because they were virtually strangers. Because they were in public. But wrong felt better than he’d imagined it could.

Wrong felt like the silky heat of her thigh as she dragged his hand higher. It felt like her skirt easing up as he slid beneath it. And it felt like her muscles trembling as she edged her legs farther apart.

Eric suddenly regretted that he’d spent his life doing the right thing. Instead, he wanted to do…this.

His fingers brushed the satiny fabric between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat, and Eric ceased breathing altogether. Her muscles tightened as she tried to spread her knees farther, but the material of the skirt was too narrow around her thighs.

Eric didn’t mind. He didn’t plan to go further than this. This place, where he could slip his fingers between her thighs and rub just there.

Beth bit back a little whimper, cutting it off before it became a moan. She let go of his wrist and put her hand on his thigh instead. He held still, settling in to the idea that he was really doing this, giving himself just a few seconds to decide that he was.

He pressed circles against her clit, feeling the satin grow wet under his touch, feeling her thighs tremble. He didn’t pause even when a group of people passed by, their voices filling the booth for a moment.

She choked on a gasp, but no one could see past the front of the table. Eric had made sure of that, in the interest of privacy, but he hadn’t anticipated they’d need it quite this much.

As her breathing grew more ragged, her fingers dug into his thigh. She stared straight ahead, her expression caught somewhere between pleasure and worry.

Was she an exhibitionist? Was that her thing? Eric didn’t give a damn as long as she kept making those soft, whimpering sounds. As long as she clutched his thigh as if he was anchoring her to the earth.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

He didn’t move in to kiss her. He didn’t dare get any closer. As it was, if the waitress reappeared, she would see nothing more than a man turned slightly toward a woman as they talked. So instead of kissing her, Eric watched her face closely. Redness touched her cheeks like rouge. Her pulse beat hard in her throat. He increased the pressure against her clit, and the skin around her eyes tightened as her pupils went wider.

Someone spoke loudly in the booth next to theirs. Laughter echoed through the booth.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I…”

Her hips twitched, pushing up against his hand. Her thighs shook around him as her muscles spasmed. She was coming. Right here. Right now. His other hand tightened into a fist that he pressed mercilessly against the table. His cock grew so hard that it hurt.

She bowed her head and he could barely hear her strangled cry as she jerked against him.

Eric stared at the fall of her hair, utterly shocked at what he’d just done. He’d made this woman come. He’d stroked her to climax in a public place and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He was going to have to be bad more often.

THIS WAS SEXUAL LIBERATION. This was embracing a fantasy. This was also a little bit awkward as he eased his hand out from between her thighs.

Beth raised her head. She didn’t look at him, but she could see that his wineglass wasn’t quite steady as he raised it for a drink. She pressed her thighs together and savored the last little spasms of pleasure that took her.

Were they supposed to talk now? Discuss the latest movies? Beth couldn’t begin to think at this point.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she whispered before smoothing down her skirt and sliding out of the booth.

“Of course,” he said, his words following her toward the dark hallway.

She found the women’s room and pushed through the door, immediately meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She looked dazed. And flushed. She looked like a woman who’d just done something wicked.

Covering her mouth, she whispered, “Wow.” She pressed her hand harder, trying to stop the grin that was starting. But she couldn’t stop it. She’d just done something totally insane. In public. “Oh, wow,” she said again, the words dissolving into laughter.

Her panties were soaking wet. Her thighs weak and shaky. And he was still at the table, waiting for her.

The door whooshed open behind her, and Beth pressed her lips together to stifle her grin as she reached for the faucet so she’d look less conspicuous. She couldn’t just stand there grinning at herself, even if she was the most awesome woman in the building.

As soon as she heard the stall door close behind her, Beth smiled at herself again. She dried her hands and smoothed her hair. She didn’t need to touch up her makeup. Her lips were flushed deep red and her eyes sparkled. Hell, yeah.

Beth undid one more button on her shirt and opened the door. She was going to take this man home tonight. Preferably within the next quarter hour.

Three steps outside of the bathroom she ran straight into disaster.

“Beth!” Cairo squealed as she reached out to grab Beth’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Beth yelped. “Cairo! I…” She looked past Cairo’s head and saw Jamie watching their little reunion. Crap. “I’m meeting with a, um, an accountant. From the accounting seminar. About tax…strategy.”

“Well, come here. I want you to meet Harrison.”

“Who?” Beth asked, dumbfounded by shock.

“Harrison, my boyfriend. He’s a bartender here.”

Oh, Jesus. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to Cairo’s stories? Harrison was the newer of her two boyfriends, and Beth belatedly remembered that he worked nearby. Unfortunately, she hadn’t registered the useful details. “I can’t, I need to finish this meeting.”

Cairo tugged on her arm. “Come on. It’ll only take a second.”

Beth had to follow her, but she threw a wide-eyed look at Jamie over her shoulder. She held up one finger in the hopes he’d take the message and stay put. Though he frowned, he leaned back in his seat. Thank God.

“That’s him,” Cairo whispered, waving toward a young man at the other side of the room. He was slim and of average height, but that was the only average thing about him. His hair was a close buzz cut, bleached so blond it was nearly white. It offered a stark contrast against his bronze skin and black tattoos. He was pierced and studded in multiple places on his face, and Beth knew for a fact that the ornamentation continued down his body.

He stopped before them with a wide, welcoming smile.

“This is Beth,” Cairo said. “My boss.”

“I’m Harrison. Nice to meet you.” He reached across the bar to shake her hand and slid a wine list toward her with the other. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh. I’d better…” She darted a look toward the booth.

“No, stay!” Cairo said. “It’ll be fun. You said you were almost done with the meeting, right? We never hang out anymore.”

Beth couldn’t believe this was happening. She thought of Jamie waiting in the booth like some clean-cut sex god. She looked at Cairo’s bleach-blond alternative toy with a sense of hopelessness.

“Wait a minute,” Cairo said. “Are you sure you’re only here for a business meeting?”

“What? Of course, it’s just a meeting. Ha! I’ll go finish up and I’ll be right back. You order for me, Harrison.”

She was being ridiculous. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, Jamie looked a lot like an off-duty stockbroker, but Beth didn’t have anything to prove. She should just stand up and take it like a woman.

Still, she’d taken a big step today. Best to put off any more growth until tomorrow. Anything more might break her.