Page 71 of The Woman

Once he clues in on the footsteps as well, he continues forward with his kiss, but it’s much less passionate than I’m sure it was going to be.

“Besides the color of your clothing, is there a color you like best?” he asks, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.

“A color?” I run my fingers back and forth on the table, thinking. “I like them all, but I think orange is the most appealing.” Tilting my head to look at him, I ask, “What about you?”

He remains staring at the piece of hair between his fingers. “Blue.”

We’re tucked away in a cozy booth in the dim part of the VIP section of this place Phoenix brought us to, now waiting for some food and drinks that he ordered for us a moment ago. He’s been asking me random questions, much like he has since the first day he found out I’m a WOUN.

A few other men are in here, sitting in their own booths, but they can’t see us from where they are. Still, I’ve been trying to keep my face blank and not appear as if I’m talking a lot.

“I was thinking,” I say softly after another quick glance around us. “Maybe I could come with you tomorrow?”

It’s been a week since I accompanied Phoenix to work. Surely, if Thomas had planned on reporting anything, he would have done it by now. I think Phoenix has been feeling guilty for leaving me at home all day, and that’s no doubt the reason for our trip up the mountain and then the stop here. It’s kind of funny, considering he had no problem leaving me at home not all that long ago.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He reaches for his water and takes a sip before resting his hand on my thigh. “I have a couple of meetings both at the office and out of it. I don’t want you present for either.”

Disappointment has my shoulders sagging. I understand. I do. But it still doesn’t change how my stomach drops a little lower, knowing I’ll be spending the day by myself in the penthouse again.

“I’ll get you some more sketch pads, some paints, whatever the fuck you want to keep you occupied at home,” Phoenix says just before the waiter brings our drinks to the table.

“Thank you,” I quietly murmur after he’s gone again, keeping my face neutral.

“And I’ll get another music book so you have more piano pieces to learn,” he continues on, his hand wandering up and down my leg.

My lips pull up into a small smile. I know he’s trying to make me happy, and I appreciate that.

Glancing up at him, I catch the way he’s watching me, intense as always, but it’s mixed with something soft and tender.

“What?” I question.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Taste your drink.”

“And what if I don’t like it?” I lift my glass to my nose, trying to decipher the smell.

“Then I’ll kiss that mouth of yours, sucking the flavor from your tongue until the only thing you taste is me.”

The hand holding my glass halts just as the rim touches my lips. Heat swims through me, collecting as a blush on my cheeks and a pool of moisture between my legs.

I’ve never found it hard to be sexually aroused by him, but it seems to get even easier with every passing day, knowing exactly what he can do to me. All he has to do is look at me like he is now, and my body feels like melting into him.

With my eyes on him, I take a sip, swallowing down the interesting drink, then go back for another mouthful, holding it on my tongue and swishing it about before swallowing. It has a spice and bitterness to it that I’m not used to, but I like it.

“I don’t like it.”

A mere second later, his mouth is crashing onto mine with a gentle force, making good on his promise to take away every other taste until all that’s left is him. He swallows my moans, his soft tongue sweeping into my mouth as his rough stubble rubs against me.

I sometimes wonder if this is how other couples kiss.

Whether their kisses are as heady and consuming as ours always seem to be or if it’s a result of me being different.

I wonder whether they find it hard to stop once they’ve started.

Twisting slightly, I bring a hand up to rest on his chest. The rapid beat of his heart flutters against my palm, telling me how much I affect him as well.

Fingers graze up the side of my neck and then brush along my cheek until he’s cupping it in his large hand, then he’s angling my head, allowing himself better access. I let out a full-body shiver when his teeth sink into my lip, and I involuntarily try to press into him.

I’m on the verge of straddling him when he pulls back, the hint of a smile playing on his lips as he peers down at me.

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