Chapter 43
Friday night came way too fast, the flurry of details occupying too much of my mind, so much that I couldn’t properly prepare, couldn’t properly dissect my conflicting emotions, my confusion over my feelings. When we fucked—when he had his hands and cock on me—it felt too good, he knew too much. How to touch, how to tease, how far to take me before delivering what I needed. It was unfair for me to hoard all that sexual pleasure, for me to covet his talents and deprive another woman from feeling that. I would envision him with someone else, his hands sliding and touching, curving and trailing, his body above, cock within, mouth upon. The thought was so graphic, so physically arousing that I would instantly buck, my back arching, mind exploding, pushed over the edge and into the star-filled epiphany that was my orgasm. It never failed to send me there, never failed to arouse and excite, the fantasy incredible in its utter lack of jealousy and possessiveness. How different would reality be? Or was it the aftermath I should be considering? The doubts, insecurities? How much of a role would they play?
The evening had arrived, and I would know soon enough what harm my actions would bring. I watched Brad over the curve of my wineglass and wondered.
He had not mentioned his birthday once, and I had given strict instructions to both Martha and Rebecca to not clue him into the fact that I was aware of it. I had acted oblivious, following Brad’s lead when he suggested we go to Centaur for dinner. Dressed in a short dress and heels, my sexiest bra and panty set underneath, I had manipulated our time slightly so that it would fit with my plans. Now we waited on our steaks, him leaned casually back in his seat, his eyes watching me. I fought a smile and set down my glass. “Stop studying me.”
“I can’t help it. You’re breathtaking.”
I leaned forward and captured his hand, raising it to my lips and kissing his palm lightly. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I said playfully. He shook his head and cupped his hand, cradling my face before leaning forward and brushing his lips over mine.
There was a soft cough, and we turned to see our plated feast, served apologetically by a blushing twenty-something blonde. “Thank you.” I said, eyeing the steak. As much as my stomach wanted to dive in head first, I didn’t want to lug around a full stomach while naked next to January. I cut the steak in half and moved toward the lobster. There was no need to waste good food. I glanced at my watch. 9:30.
“Shit.” I widened my eyes in what I hoped was a plausible expression of dismay.
“What?”
“I never dropped my civics paper off. It’s due tonight.”
“Is it finished?” Brad brought a fresh piece of lobster to his mouth.
“Yeah. I finished it last week, which is why I haven’t even thought about it. When we leave here, can we swing by the house and grab it? If we drive over to campus, it’ll only take five minutes for me to run it inside the Economics building and put it under my professor’s door.”
He feigned irritation. “God, that sounds inconvenient. I didn’t sign on for all this when I decided to date a younger woman.”
“When you decided? You’ve been dating younger women for seven years.” I grinned at him. “Besides, I’ll withhold dessert if you are responsible for me getting anything other than an A in that class.”
He shot me a devious look. “I could just take my dessert.”
“Au contraire. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s illegal in this country.”
He scoffed. “Trust me, by the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to violate every part of you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You overestimate your abilities, Mr. De Luca. And you are taking me on my ‘younger woman’ errand. It’s part of the fiancé obligation.”
His mouth twitched. “I’ll take you on your errand, but only because you look so beautiful, and because I can’t seem to tell you no.”
“Then you, Mr. De Luca. Better dig in. I plan on you needing a lot of energy tonight.” I watched his mouth curve, his fork move, and that delicious mouth open. My mind went crazy with thoughts of the evening, and I watched Brad signal for our waitress.
♥♥♥
There was, of course, no civics paper. Brad idled in the driveway, and I took the side entrance, leaving the lights off inside and walking through to the back, where I opened the doors to the large porch. Three porch chairs were occupied; their inhabitants rose at my presence. A girl moved forward, smiling briefly, and extended her hand. “January.”
She looked as devastatingly beautiful as her photos, no trick photography or Photoshop used to enhance her looks. I smiled, wondering if my nervous appraisal showed. “I’m Julia. Please come in.”