Ross 03 Leave Me Breathless(28)

Seth…she didn’t really know a damn thing about him except that he was loyal to his friends and family, she’d never seen a picture of him where he wasn’t flipping off the camera or sticking his tongue through the V of his fingers and he had an ex so in love with him the girl had damn near lost her mind. That he really had never given Macy anything other than a string of violent orgasms and a “catch ya later”. He made her feel the absolute opposite of Jared. Instability. Danger. Given the text he’d sent her earlier—Wear a skirt 2night—he only promised more of each.

God help her, she liked it. She couldn’t imagine turning away now. It was unthinkable.

“Jared…ever since I got hurt, I’ve followed my head. I’ve been cautious to the point of almost losing my friends. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve got to follow my heart this one time. My heart’s telling me I need to go my own way, throw caution to the wind. Maybe it’ll blow right back in my face, I don’t know.” She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Jared sighed. His hands slid around her back and he pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. She practically collapsed into him. He smelled wonderful, the clean, crisp scent of the outdoors—his favorite place to be.

Admitting all of that—to him of all people—had taken a lot out of her. Was she insane? Was she really following her heart, or just her freaking vagina?

“If you ever change your mind,” he murmured, leaning his cheek into her hair, “you know where I’ll be.”



It was like déjà vu. Only the restaurant was dim and quieter than the bar. When Seth slid into the booth next to Macy, she shivered as his jeaned thigh brushed her bare one.

She’d acquiesced and worn a tight-fitting black skirt with knee-high boots and a green sweater, and there was no doubt in her mind why he’d made the request. Every time she remembered the other night in the bar, her heart did a swan dive to the pit of her stomach.

He looked…dangerous tonight. All in black, which wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t even really that he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and a shadow framed the darker brown of his goatee. It was his demeanor. She didn’t know if he’d ever exuded raw sex like he did tonight. Like he’d thought about it all day and was to a breaking point in which he’d just as well put her on the table, spread her legs and make her his appetizer right here in the restaurant. The tension around his mouth, the look in his eyes, said it all.

“Never took you for a same-side sitter,” she said, sipping the water the waitress had just sat in front of her.

“Ordinarily I’m not,” he said after she was gone. “But how else am I going to get you off, if the mood strikes?”

Macy worked on swallowing that drink and placed her glass back down, struggling to maintain her composure. He leaned his shoulder into her, letting the tip of his nose trace the outer curve of her ear. “Ever since Valentine’s, I can’t get it out of my head. How much I wanted to make you come right there in front of everyone, wondering if you could hide it when you did.”

“What if I couldn’t? How embarrassing.”

“Mmm. Maybe the stealth orgasm is something we’ll work on. I picked a good place to start, right?”

He had. The backs of the booths here were higher than their heads. They were completely hidden from the people behind them. He’d specifically requested the corner. If the table off to their right remained empty, they would be all but isolated from everyone except the waitstaff.

Macy gulped more water, trying to dampen her dry throat. Already, her sex ached and pulsed for his touch, dampening her panties, and she couldn’t look away from his hand as it rested on the table. Big, perfect, with long fingers just callused enough to make her skin sing with pleasure.

Oh Lord, please help me survive.

She had a feeling praying about whatever Seth Warren had in mind tonight would be sacrilegious.

As time passed and she kept wondering when he was going to get on with it already, she also noticed he could be a real charmer when he wanted to be. Their waitress already seemed to be in love. They might have a hard time getting rid of her long enough to…

That was probably just the way he wanted it. Upped the danger factor, didn’t it?

Her fettuccine Alfredo came, and she attacked it. She’d assuage the lust thumping through her veins with food. He laughed at her, commenting how he loved a woman who could eat. She fed him some from her fork, and he fed her a shrimp from his fingers, letting the tips linger on her lips until she flickered her tongue against them. His eyes closed.

“Damn, woman,” he breathed.

“I want you.” His eyes opened again at her declaration. His hand dropped beneath the fall of the tablecloth, and his fingers slid deftly under her skirt, bunching it up her thigh. In no time, he was tracing the edge of her panties.

“Here? Is this where you want me?” His fingertip just flickered over her clit, barred by the thin cotton panel.

She nodded and fused her mouth hotly to his. The little waitress was probably going to reappear any minute. Macy didn’t much give a damn.

“Oh, hey,” he said suddenly, breaking away from her mouth. “I almost forgot.” She nearly screamed when he withdrew his hand from between her legs, but her aggravation turned into confusion as he reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket. Whatever he brought out was hidden in his balled-up fist. “Hold out your hand.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just do it.”

“Oh my God, Seth, if you’re going to put something totally embarrassing in my hand—”

“Shh. Do it.”

“But you—”

“Macy. Shut up. Do it.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to glare at him, though she doubted it looked very convincing since she couldn’t even begin to force her lips into a frown. “I didn’t exactly mean I wanted to give away my autonomy when I told you—”

He leaned closer, so she could feel his warm breath across her lips, smell the wine on his breath. “Do you want me to touch you again? Do it.”

Panting gently, trembling violently, she lifted her hand palm up with all the eagerness of someone about to receive a hand grenade. He kissed her, just a light brushing of his lips back and forth across hers, as he slid his fist across her palm, opened it and left behind the mystery item. The scratch of lace told her exactly what it was. She broke away and snatched her hand under the table with a gasp.

“Seth!”

“You asked for them back.”

“Not in the middle of a freaking restaurant.” Glancing down and seeing the flash of red between her fingers confirmed it: he’d given her back her Valentine’s Day panties.

“We’re not in the middle. Here’s as good as anywhere.”

“Really.” She reached for her purse to put them away, but he caught her hand and shook his head.

“I want you to change into them.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“What?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I washed them.”

“But…”

“Come on, killjoy.” He cast a glance back over his shoulder and then slid her hair back from her neck, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I want to think about them covering that sweet, wet, hot, fucking amazing pussy of yours. When I strip you later, those are what I want to see.”

She shivered despite herself. “You’re so obsessed with my underwear, are you sure you don’t want to wear them?”

He stilled and silence hung for a moment. For one terrible instant, she thought she’d made him angry. No chance. “Who’s to say I didn’t?”

She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. “You are awful.”

“And you like it. Admit it.”

“And you’re pushy. And presumptuous.”

“No. I’ve just got your number, babe.”

“Really.”

“I saw you, you know, that very first day you came into the parlor with Candace. All prim and proper, looking like your outfit cost more than my entire wardrobe. Also looking like you were ready to bolt for the door any minute. But you didn’t, and we were being offensive as all hell, and I saw you trying not to crack a smile. Mostly failing at it.”

She remembered too. She remembered watching him when he wasn’t watching her. He’d asked her if she needed anything, a drink or whatever, and she’d jolted like being hit with a live wire, quickly shaking her head and going back to her ebook while she waited for Candace to finish getting her first tattoo from Brian. Everyone had probably thought she was the biggest stuck-up bitch to ever walk in the place.

“I just… I was worried about her.”

“Yeah? And yourself? Did you think one of us was going to tackle you and tattoo you against your will?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you mother hen to everyone, or just Candace?”

It was too truthful an observation for her to take any offense. “I guess I can be that way with everyone, but Candace was really sheltered. I mean really. I thought she was making a huge mistake, and it was probably the first time she refused to listen to me.”