“It sounds like you’re trying to sell yourself to me.”
“Fuck yeah. I want you to know I’m a good bet.”
“Okay, that was option number one, what’s number two?”
“You fulfill a fantasy I have ever since I got off the phone with Jenny. I go into a shop with you, and you go into a dressing room and come out modelling outfit after outfit, making me so hard that by the time we get to the room we’ll have to eat dinner for breakfast.”
Clint’s heartbeat was no longer the slow and easy rhythm it had been, it sped up to match hers. She prayed they had lingerie at the shop and a discreet salesperson.
****
Clint carried the two shopping bags in one hand, and kept his other hand securely around Lydia. She damn near killed him at the boutique and it was wonderful. He saw a flirtatious side to her that was new. He expected this is how it would have been if they met in Mexico City.
The girl had moves! When she came out in a little red number, he damn near swallowed is tongue. The clerk found some sexy red heels to go with the dress, and the skirt hit her mid-thigh. Lydia explained this was a clubbing outfit. Clint wasn’t sure about her ever going out in public in the outfit, as least not without him there to warn off the riff-raff, but he loved seeing her eyes light up.
“I just couldn’t resist trying it on. This is not one I want to buy, this was a ‘torture Clint dress’,” she explained.
“It worked,” he said hoarsely. “It goes into the ‘buy’ pile.” She twisted and grabbed the price tag.
“Oh hell no. But I’m glad to see it worked.” She gave him a wicked smile and closed the curtain of the dressing room. He called over the salesperson.
“Jessica, can you make sure to wrap that up where Lydia can’t see it?”
“You’ve got it.” She winked at him. “The shoes too?”
“Of course.”
When he opened the door to their room, the scent of food hit them immediately. She looked at him curiously. His hand slid over the blue silk of her top that went with her new Capri pants.
“I called the hotel and arranged for dinner to be sent up while Jessica was ringing us up.”
Lydia went over to the balcony and saw there was a bottle of champagne chilling as well. “Just how much do Navy SEALS make?”
“I’m a saver. I rent a two bedroom apartment that isn’t much. Sometimes I do side computer consulting work. Want to see my bank statements?”
“If I do, I won’t have to ask, I’ll just hack into your bank.” He laughed as she lifted one of the lids from an entrée. “Geez Clint, how much food did you order?”
“I eat a lot. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I ordered a variety. Trust me, whatever you don’t eat, I will.” He moved behind her, and tucked the fall of her hair over her left shoulder so he could kiss the right side of her neck. She shuddered.
She turned and slid her arms around his waist. “Keep doing that and we won’t eat.”
“Food first, we’re going to need our strength for what I have planned.” He pulled out the chair for her to sit down. He watched as she crossed her legs and he saw her painted toes in her new sandals.
Picking up her plate, he asked her what she wanted. He served her bruschetta, stuffed mushrooms, a piece of salmon, a couple of beef medallions and some potatoes.
“Clint, I’m holding you to your promise that you’ll finish what I can’t eat,” Lydia said as she started in on her meal. “I just wanted to taste everything, but there is no way I’ll finish all of this.”
“Trust me, I’ll make sure everything gets taken care of.” He poured some champagne and sat back in his chair. He couldn’t ever remember having had such a romantic night with a woman before. She was glowing, he had wanted to spoil her, to make her feel cherished, and seeing her look of delight convinced him he had succeeded. It was a heady experience.
“I want my dessert now.” Her voice felt like velvet across his skin. When he put his hand on the lid that covered the chocolate torte, she covered it with hers.
“That’s not the dessert I want. I want something a lot more rich and decadent than mere chocolate.”
“Thank fuck.” He pushed back his chair and it started to tip over, but he grabbed it before it fell. “Damn woman, you go to my head.”
She stood up a hell of a lot more gracefully than he had. She moved like a dancer. He imagined her dancing in that red dress and all the blood in his body rushed south of his belt buckle. He stood staring at her.
“Clint?”
He picked her up, cradling her like he wanted in the jungle, with one arm around her back, and his other under her knees. She fit him perfectly, and he wasn’t hurting her. She sighed and smiled.