Page 39 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
“Ask me,” he whispered, stroking her leg. “Three little words and I’ll make you shiver a lot more than that.”
“Remember before, when I was telling you what an egotistical something-or-other you are?” She whispered it back to him, her fingers wrapped around the lapels of his suit, her back stiff, their eyes locked together. He nodded, his fingers slowly moving past her kneecap, up her thigh. As his hand spread open over her skin, her voice grew even fainter. “I was right about the egotistical part.”
He lowered his head, just far enough so his lips hovered above hers. Against her mouth, he whispered, “Ask me,” so that his words brushed her lips, feather-light and fleeting.
Instead of speaking her ‘no’ aloud, she shook her head back and forth, skimming her lips against his in the touching-but-not-touching way he had done, slow and careful. He made a low, masculine sound in his throat. His hand tightened on her leg and the electricity running between them felt alive, magnetic and hair-raising, a wild animal about to be unleashed.
Then the car slid to a stop and Corbin announced, “We’re here, sir.”
Ember stifled a groan. “He has the most unbelievable timing.”
Christian closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “He certainly does.”
He inhaled, gave her thigh a squeeze, and released her, setting her back to her side of the seat. She made sure her dress was safely back over her knees and tried not to think about the hardness of his body, his lips and scent and gaze, how it felt to have his arms wrapped around her. Because if she focused on any one of those things, she didn’t think they’d make it through dinner.
She thought she’d tell him to take her home to bed, right now.
And she needed more time to figure this out—it was all happening much too fast. She wasn’t that girl, the one who had sex on the first date or threw herself at men, hoping for attention. No matter how gorgeous, rich, and swoon-inducing they were.
Christian helped her from the car and kept her hand clasped tightly in his as they entered the restaurant and were led to their table. As her brain began to come back online and her thought processes cleared, Ember was struck by something she’d missed in the emotion of the moment with Christian’s arms wrapped around her, his fierce intensity muddling her mind. It was something he’d said, something that seemed more and more ominous with every replay.
I’m not even sure how much longer I’m going to be around.
It made her wonder again about the life or death reason he’d been late for their date. And why he thought spending time together wasn’t in either of their best interests.
What exactly was he hiding?
The dinner was extravagant, and quiet.
There was caviar and oysters, silky foie gras and filet mignon, a Bordeaux—which she politely declined—so dark and decadent it looked more like dessert. The menu was French, as was the waiter with the aquiline nose and slicked back hair who bowed and scraped so obsequiously to Christian when he ordered.
In French.
It was an uncomfortable experience for Ember, in part because the electric tension from the car had not dissipated, and in part because it reminded her too much of the early days of her father’s marriage to Marguerite. The three of them, along with the Tweedies, would visit expensive restaurants like this one and Ember and her father would suffer through endless commentaries about everything from the quality of the food to the quality of Ember’s wardrobe. Both of which were always found to be lacking. Also, she loathed oysters and foie gras, but didn’t want to seem rude or ungrateful when Christian ordered them, especially since she’d already turned down the wine.
She longed for a hamburger. And a quick escape route.
Or maybe a bullet to the head.
By the time dinner was over, her nerves were frayed. She and Christian had exchanged a total of perhaps two dozen words.
“Well,” said Christian as he settled back into the plush confines of his silk-covered chair. Toying with his dessert spoon, he sent her a penetrating look from beneath his lashes. “That was one of the more memorable dining experiences I’ve ever had. In spite of the fact that I didn’t taste a bite of it.”
Her lips twisted. She exhaled a slow, ragged breath and tried on a tentative smile. “You live well,” she said quietly, looking down at the untouched dessert on her plate, a sugar-dusted hazelnut merengue the waiter had called “dacquoise.” It appeared diabetes-inducing.
“Thank you,” he murmured. Ember glanced over at him and he was looking back at her with unblinking intensity. Horribly, because of course it would happen, she blushed.
“Okay. How about if we skip dessert and go for a walk instead?” Christian suggested. Ember looked at him and he sent her a wry smile. “I could use some fresh air. You?”
“Yes,” she agreed, profoundly grateful. Walking beside him—not having to look
right at him—would be much easier than sitting across a table from him trying to ignore all the unresolved sexual tension in the air, or getting back in the car and…what? Christian called the waiter over and paid the check. She’d never been so relieved to skip a dessert in her entire life.
Or so conflicted about it.
Once out on the sidewalk, Christian informed Corbin they’d be walking and they set off at a meandering pace down the boulevard. Corbin followed slowly behind in the Audi. She tightened the cashmere wrap around her shoulders to ward off the chill of the night air. Christian, seeing it, asked, “Are you cold? Would you like my coat?”
“No, but thanks for offering.” She wrapped her arms across her chest because she was exquisitely aware he might take her hand again if she didn’t, and she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted him to or not. “Is he your bodyguard or something?” Ember asked curiously as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Corbin’s worried face through the windshield. He had a death grip on the steering wheel and was staring at the two of them as if he thought something terrible was about to happen.
