Page 20 of Downfall

I’ll probably still freeze, but I wear extra thick socks under my knee-high Doc Martens and when I hear the knock at the door, I grab my leather jacket from its hook. As soon as I open the door, Josh’s eyes flash with lust, and I know I have him.

He schools his expression quickly, but I almost tell him to forget the date and to just come inside. But we have a fun night planned, and a little delayed gratification never hurt anyone.

The drive to Coronado takes about twenty minutes from this part of Downtown San Diego, and Josh can barely keep his eyes on the road. My dress has ridden up a bit, and I am flashing a lot of thigh in the black leather bucket seat of his Camaro, so I can’t say I blame him.

He takes me to a restaurant at Hotel Del, a beautiful hotel right on the beach. During the holidays, they set up an ice-skating rink outside, and it’s magical to hear the waves crashing while in a winter wonderland bubble.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we are seated right away. The server takes our drink orders, and we fall into a comfortable silence while we look over our menus.

I always order the same thing at these types of restaurants—a caesar salad with shrimp—so while Josh studies the menu, I take a moment to study him. His dark hair is perfectly coiffed in a slicked-back style, and his short beard is well-maintained. I know from his dating profile that he is a successful CPA. When we first started talking, I was still working at Mitchell and Associates, so we had more in common. But he’s definitely attractive.

“So, you’re a tax auditor?” he says as he puts his menu down on the table, glancing down at my cleavage before meeting my eyes.

“Well, I was. A senior auditor at Mitchell and Associates. But I actually quit earlier this month.”

“Oh. Are you working somewhere else?”

“I’ve had the same part-time job since college that I really enjoy, so I’m still there Friday and Saturday nights. Which is why we had to come out on a Sunday. It’s inconvenient sometimes, but I make good money,” I say, waiting for him to ask the obvious question, but seeing if he might come to any conclusions about me first. Some men don’t care that I’m a stripper, but other men don’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole after they find out.

His eyes light with an almost mischievous look, and he asks, “Weekend nights only, huh? And where is that?”

The server comes by to deliver his Manhattan and a glass of Pinot Noir for me, letting us know she’ll be back in a moment to take our orders.

“Have you ever been to the Fox Hole downtown?” I ask with a smile, taking a small sip of my wine.

“I’ve never been, but I pass by there on my way to work every day. So, Friday and Saturday nights. I might have to stop in sometime.”

“You should. It’s a good time.”

The rest of dinner passes with pleasant conversation, and we each have another drink before heading outside to the ice-skating rink. Josh paid for our meal and has been a gentleman throughout the evening; he even helped me lace up my skates because bending over in this dress would give everyone a show. I don’t feel that elusive spark that I’ve only felt once before, but Josh is charming in a corporate way. Like a recruiter or a car salesman.

We are having so much fun skating that I barely register the cold. He holds my hand as we shuffle around, laughing and trying not to stumble.

As we move toward the door to exit the rink, I wobble on my skates, and he puts his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side to steady me. I look up at him with a smile of thanks and am met with a burning desire in his gaze. My smile transforms to seductive, remembering my goal for the evening, and he responds immediately. Pulling me in so my chest touches his, he holds me close while skating me backward into the wall surrounding the ice. He pins me there, his hips against mine, as if we are the only people here.

We both move at the same time, me craning my neck up and him leaning down until our lips clash in a frenzy of need. A year of pent-up sexual frustration leaks into the kiss, and I don’t care that there are at least fifty other people skating around us. He seems to feel the same as his hands move, one weaving through my hair to cup the back of my head, moving me where he needs me to deepen the kiss, and the other roaming down my side, coming to rest on the back of my thigh, his fingers brushing the hem of my dress.

We stay like that for several minutes, only pulling away when a man with small children comes to tap on Josh’s shoulder, asking that we move our make-out session elsewhere. I giggle as Josh turns his face back to mine, a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

He releases his hold on me, grabbing my hand and gliding us to the rink door again.

As I’m pulling my Docs back on, sitting on a cold, metal bench, he asks, “Want to go somewhere for a drink? Or do you need to get home?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a drinkatmy home,” I say, my eyebrow raised in question.

His eyelids droop, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Let’s go.” He hauls me up and practically drags me to his car as I laugh, thankful I didn’t wear heels.

Chapter 16

Abby

Thedrivebacktomy place is excruciating. Josh drives like a bat out of hell, crossing back over the Coronado Bridge in record time, but we are both on the edge of our seats, just waiting for the moment we are behind a closed door.

When we pull up to my building, I direct him to the guest parking spots, thanking my lucky stars that there is an open space so he won’t get towed off the street if he’s here late. Josh rounds the back of his car, catching me in a scorching kiss as soon as I shut the passenger door behind me.

He cages me there, my back against the cool metal. His tongue explores mine as he grips the back of my thigh, lifting it to his hip so I can feel every inch of his erection against me. My hands thread through the short hair at his nape, tugging gently, and he nips my bottom lip. I whimper and he groans in response, reluctantly releasing me.

“Lead the way, little fox,” he murmurs into my ear, and I shiver. I need this—a release from someone other than myself—so badly. It’s been so long since I’ve been this turned on, this wet and needy.

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