Page 48 of One Night in Glasgow
“You were nervous about seeing me?” I grinned, leading her toward the restaurant with my hand at her back.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she quipped, but the blush creeping up her neck told a different story.
Inside, the hostess led us to a horseshoe-shaped booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner. Perfect. I slid in right after Beth, the curved bench forcing us close. I made sure it wasn’t just close; I deliberately pressed my thigh against hers as Isettled in, a silent claim. If anyone called me out on it, I’d just blame the small booth, though we both knew that was total bullshit.
I gave up on the menu after the third time I'd read the description for 'calamari' without a single word registering. My higher brain functions had officially gone offline, hijacked by her proximity. All I could register was her scent, something warm and sweet that was messing with my wiring. When she leaned in close to point at something, her shoulder brushing mine, a low, primal hum started in my chest—pure, unadulterated want.
“The pasta looks amazing,” she said, her voice a little breathless. She had no idea the havoc she was wreaking on my concentration.
“Mm-hmm,” I managed, my eyes dropping to her lips. “I’m sure it is.” I let my gaze linger there for a beat too long.
The server came and went, taking our orders, but I couldn’t have repeated what I’d chosen if my life depended on it. My entire focus was on the woman next to me. Beth launched into a story about her host Ziggy’s crystal collection, her hands dancing through the air as she spoke, animated and vibrant.
“So there I am, jet-lagged out of my mind, and this man with tie-dyed everything is telling me about the healing properties of amethyst…”
Her laugh rang through our cozy corner, a sound so genuine it made my chest tighten. This was a different Beth from Glasgow, lighter, like she’d shed a heavy coat. Her eyes sparkled, her Scottish lilt got stronger when she was excited, and all I could think about was getting her out of this restaurant and back to my hotel room so I could be the sole reason for that sparkle.
“You seem different here,” I said, catching one of hergesturing hands in mine. I didn’t just hold it. I turned it over, tracing the lines of her palm with my thumb, feeling the delicate skin there. “More... you.”
“I feel different,” she admitted, her fingers lacing through mine. Her breath hitched almost silently when I brought her knuckles to my lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there while holding her gaze. “Here… here I can just breathe.”
The server arrived with our food. Beth’s eyes went wide at the massive plate of pasta. “Good lord, I could feed half of Glasgow with this.”
“Want to share?” I offered, my eyes dropping back to her mouth.
“Not a chance, McCrae,” she grinned, her voice a low, playful challenge as she twirled pasta around her fork. “Get your own.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckled and turned to my own meal. But my attention wasn’t on my food. It was entirely on her. I watched, completely captivated, as she expertly twirled a long strand of linguine around her fork. She brought it to her mouth, her lips parting slightly, her eyes closing for just a fraction of a second as she savored the first bite. The entire restaurant, the noise, the other diners—it all just faded into an indistinct blur.
It was the most unconsciously sensual thing I’d ever seen. A tiny, glistening smudge of red sauce clung to the corner of her mouth. Instead of reaching for her napkin, her tongue darted out. It was a quick, pink flick that cleaned the spot with devastating efficiency. My cock gave a hard kick against my zipper. I imagined my tongue following that same path, imagined tasting the rich tomato and the salt of her skin. I had to shift in my seat, the booth suddenly feeling ten degrees hotter and about a thousand times too small.
She looked up then, her blue eyes sparkling under the dim light, and she caught me staring. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.
“What?” she asked, her voice pure, buttery innocence, though her eyes were pure mischief.
“Just admiring your technique,” I said, my voice coming out a little rougher than I intended. “You’re a professional.”
“It takes practice,” she murmured, taking another deliberate, slow bite, her gaze locked with mine over the tines of her fork. She was playing a game, a delicious, torturous game, and I was losing spectacularly. Every move she made, the way she licked a drop of wine from her lip, the slight arch of her back as she laughed at something I said, the way her fingers curled around her wine glass, was an invitation. A promise.
We had to get her out of here. Now. Before I did something wildly inappropriate, like crawl across this table and take that next bite of pasta right from her lips.
I frantically signaled for the server, who seemed to be moving in slow motion. When the check finally came, Beth reached for her purse, but I waved her off, my hand covering hers on the table. “My treat.”
“Sean…”
“Consider it part of the experience,” I winked, my thumb stroking the back of her hand. “Non-negotiable.”
Outside, New York had slipped into its sexier evening attire, a dazzling display of lights that pulsed with the same potential humming between us. The city that never sleeps was wide awake and ripe with promises of adventure.
“Let me take the subway back with you,” I offered, already dreading the thought of our night wrapping up. “The crazies come out after dark, and I’d feel better playing bodyguard.”
“Worried about me?” Her tone was playful, but I caught the pleased look in her eyes.
“Damn right I am,” I replied with a grin, as I steered her towards the subway entrance.
Her body meltedagainst mine as we swayed with the subway car’s motion, her head settling onto my shoulder like it was always meant to be there. My arm was tight around her waist, my hand resting possessively on her hip. The rocking of the train was a slow, torturous rhythm, pressing our bodies together, and I leaned down, my lips brushing her ear. “I can’t wait to get you alone,” I whispered, and I felt a shiver run through her. She didn’t pull away. That was all the answer I needed.
Outside her place in Brooklyn, I stalled on her front steps under the amber glow of the streetlights, unwilling to let the night end.
