My mystery man gestures toward the stage and says, “I hope this is okay?”
“It is.” I pause. “I like to watch.”
His dark eyes are bright. “Thank you for being honest.”
He leads me to a round table with booth seating, sliding in first. I slide in next to him. We’re so close that our thighs touch.
“I’ve read the file on you.”
My eyebrows lift. “You did? And what did it say?”
“That we’re compatible in several areas. Neither of us are local, though we’re both in New York for the moment.”
“I fear you have an advantage. I didn’t get to see a file.”
The smile is back. “I’m an open book. What would you like to know?”
“Your name?”
“My friends call me GC.”
I nod. “Nice to meet you, GC.”
“What about you, my naughty schoolgirl? What shall I call you?”
“Was my name not in the file?”
He shakes his head. “It was not.”
I think. It’s dangerous to give him my real name, but I don’t want to give him initials.
“Britney, after the most famous schoolgirl I know.”
He snorts. “Does that mean you’re into late 90s and early 2000s music?”
“My music tastes are all over the place.”
He flags down a server, ordering us each a drink before saying, “Well, I can’t wait to hear all about them.”
Two hours later, I’m one-hundred percent lusting after GC. We have so much in common that it feels like I’ve known him my entire life. And the chemistry between us is…so, so, so intense. It can’t even be blamed on drinks because we only had one each before switching to water. I can’t speak for him, but I want to make sure nothing is impairing my senses.
His hand is on my thigh, but I wish it would go higher.
I inch toward him, and his grip tightens.
“Tell me what you need.”
Heat rushes to my core at his command.
“I need you to touch me.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
He says, “I want you to use your words.”
I moisten my lips before I speak. “I want you to touch me between my legs.”