Night After Night(12)
She wriggled her rear against him. “I wasn’t trying to. What do you want to know?”
“What do you like to read?”
She smiled in the dark. She liked that he’d asked first about books, rather than movies or TV, the world he trafficked in. “Books,” she said dryly.
“What kind of books, Little Miss Sarcastic?”
“Adventure stories,” she said, and she could practically feel him raise an eyebrow inquisitively. She shifted to her other side so she could face him as they talked. He shot her a quizzical look, as if he were perturbed by the breaking of the physical contact. He solved the problem quickly, reaching out to touch her, running his hand down her thigh.
“Can’t keep your hands off me?”
“No, I can’t. And I see no reason not to touch you. What kind of adventure stories?”
“Real adventures. Scary adventures. Like the ship captain who was held hostage by Somali pirates.”
“A Captain’s Duty,” he said, and she was impressed he knew the title of the book, rather than simply the title for the film based on it. “Good book. Good movie too, Captain Phillips. What else?”
“Stories about Seals.”
“The fictional ones where they’re back from their missions and they fall in love with the hot woman they’re assigned to protect?”
“No,” she said, laughing.
“Wait. The ones where they fall for the physical therapist who rehabs them after war?”
Another laugh. “My my, don’t you know everything about romance tropes? But no, I mean the real ones about their real missions.”
“That’s it. You’re going to have to stop talking now. Because if you say anything more it’s going to become clear you are the most perfect woman ever made.”
“And why is that? You a fan of seal stories too?”
“I’m a fan of you growing more fascinating with every detail I learn.”
“I’m an onion. Keep peeling me.”
“A sexy onion. Let me take off another layer,” he said and bent his head to her shoulder, nibbling playfully.
“What about you?”
“What about me? What do I like to read?”
“No. I’m picking a different topic. What movies do you like? And don’t name your clients’ films.”
“Of course, their works are all my favorites. But when I’m not watching their movies, I like heist flicks.”
“Like Ocean’s Eleven?”
He nodded. “Best heist movie ever.”
“And the Italian Job?”
“Another excellent one.”
“And the Thomas Crowne Affair?”
“Brilliant plot.”
“And Die Hard?”
“Seen it ten times. Maybe more,” Clay said.
“I love them all too,” she said.
“Okay, now you have to cease speaking.”
“Because that makes me perfect?” She joked.
“Something like that,” he muttered as he pulled her in close, and kissed her once more.
* * *
When she woke up the next morning, Clay ran a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat. “I can push back my flight until later tonight. Do you want to spend the day with me?”
She couldn’t think of a better idea. “And we can talk more about movies, and TV shows, and books?”
“That. Or about the threesome we’re going to have some day.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I am not sharing you.”
He smiled devilishly at her. “Good answer. And for the record, I would never ever share you.”
“Good. Now for even suggesting that, I need two orgasms, stat.”
He tipped his forehead to the bathroom. “Shower. You. Against the wall.”
After he delivered on her request, they went out to lunch in Hayes Valley at one of her favorite restaurants that had 47 varieties of dipping sauce for French Fries. Clay agreed that it might be the best restaurant he’d ever been to and that fries were an unbeatable food choice.
But as the evening unspooled, Julia became aware of a ticking clock. Time seemed to speed up, to charge headfirst to the end of the night as the inevitable goodbye loomed closer. When his car arrived to take him to the airport, she said goodbye and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. There would be no poignant, postcard kind of kiss. They might have had fun, they might be insanely compatible in bed, they might even have the same taste in movies, but there was no they to them. She had too much baggage here in her hometown. Too much trouble that wasn’t close to being wrapped up. And too many more Tuesday nights before she could call it even.
She needed to start erecting a wall. Clay would go down in her history as the best sex ever – a night of unbridled perfection in the bedroom. And, fine, he scored major points for being easy to talk to and fun to spend the day with. But he lived 3000 miles away.