Page 15 of Star Crossed
“I know,” she whispered, still fighting the unexpected tidal wave of passion that had welled up between them. She couldn’t even be bothered to correct him about her name; she was too far gone to do anything more than push halfheartedly at his stomach once more. “Go now, Romeo.”
He left, and Jules felt bereft the moment he did. She resisted the urge to watch him go and admire that powerful, dangerous body in the sexiest suit she’d ever seen.
Instead she found herself looking to the other tables. She hadn’t noticed anyone but Romeo until he left. Now she saw the eyes again, some that stared at her, more that followed Romeo as he made his way out of the restaurant. He was a little too handsome, way too huge, and far, far too recognizable.
They’d just made a scene with tabloid reporters and major media outlets crawling in every corner of this hotel. It’d be a minor miracle if Jules escaped without being exposed for the lapse, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care too much. Not when her body was vibrating with this much sexual energy. She hadn’t felt this alive, this desperate for something outside the ordinary that’d been her life for so long. She didn’t even hesitate to raise her hand when she spied their waitress at the next table over.
When the young waitress walked over, ready to serve, all Jules had to say to her was, “Check, please.”
Then Jules sat there, skin tingling with need, her heart beating the hell out of her ribs because she’d done it. She’d voiced her thoughts out loud, and Romeo responded without hesitation when most men would have been put off by her forward, aggressive nature.
She was a strong, independent woman who didn’t see anything wrong with a hot, steamy sexual encounter between two consenting adults. It was nice to meet a man who didn’t make her feel like less of a woman for enjoying a little casual sex when the opportunity arose, which, granted, was next to never, but that was beside the point. She’d been the aggressor, and he’d been okay with it. In fact, Romeo almost seemed to enjoy it.
She smiled as she searched through her purse for her credit card, thinking maybe she needed to start visiting New York if this was the type of men they had to offer. A man who didn’t mind being an equal with a woman, who was fine with Jules having a successful career and her own checking account and a sex drive she didn’t have to be ashamed of.
“Ma’am.”
Jules turned to look at the waitress, credit card in hand. “Yes.”
“The gentleman you were with already paid the bill.”
“What?” Jules frowned. “But—”
“It’s all taken care of.” The waitress gave Jules a winning smile. “The maître d’ said he insisted. He’s got sorta an old-world charm, doesn’t he? And the guys in the back said he’s really famous in the fighting world. You’re so lucky.”
Jules huffed under her breath and purposely ignored the waitress, who seemed to think Jules should be unendingly grateful. But Jules was actually mad about it. So much for New York putting out progressive, modern men who didn’t mind a woman standing on her own two feet. It turned out Romeo was just like the men in Garnet, all brawn and balls, who expected a woman to swoon if he flexed his muscles and grunted loud enough.
“Thank you,” she said, refusing to look at the waitress who was not so subtly hinting that she had a crush on Jules’s date. She put her credit card back in her purse just as her phone buzzed. She picked it up, seeing a text from Romeo with a room number on it. She might have responded if she hadn’t happened to glance over her shoulder at the waitress, who was still hovering. “Can I help you?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” the waitress asked, hope shining in her dark eyes. “Or is this like a business meeting or something? It looked sorta like a business meeting, because neither of you were drinking and—”
“Are you serious?” Jules gaped for one long moment. Then she put her purse on her shoulder and stood. “You know what, never mind. I don’t got time for this.”
She had bigger fish to fry than one lovesick waitress. She had a UFC fighter that needed to be put in his place.
