Chapter Fourty-seven

I managed to style my hair up into an elegantly messy bun, bid a goodnight to Emelie whose eyes were all teary at the sight of us together—I don’t think she’d quite grasped the concept of fuck buddies yet—and slid into the cab before Tom. When he got in, he gave the cab driver our destination. It was Tom’s French restaurant, La Cour, the one he’d inherited as part of his father’s businesses, and it was situated on Royal Terrace near the Regent Gardens. I hadn’t been there before, but I’d heard great things about it. As Tom settled back, he settled in close to me and reached for my hand. For the entire cab ride I stared at his large, masculine hand in mine, fighting the urge to pull out of his touch. It wasn’t because the handholding wasn’t nice. It was nice. Too nice. Too ‘more’.

This was supposed to be just sex. But there he was . . . holding my hand.

I barely even noticed we’d pulled up to the restaurant, before Tom was paying the cab driver and helping me down out of it.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, as he laced his fingers through mine again to lead me inside.

I didn’t answer that. “Who are we meeting?”

But before he could respond, the maître d’ appeared with a huge grin on his face. “Monsieur Carmichael, we have your table waiting, sir.”

“Thank you, David.” Tom pronounced his name with the French pronunciation and I wondered if the guy was really French, or if it was all part of the restaurant’s image. The restaurant itself was opulent elegance. It was modern French rococo with black and silver patterned, gilt-framed chairs, deep-red tablecloths, black glass candelabras and clear crystal chandeliers. The restaurant was packed.

David led us through the tables to a cozy one in the east corner, far away from the bar and kitchen access. Like a gentleman, Tom held my seat out for me, and I couldn’t remember if anyone had done that before. I was so focused on the gesture and the sensual brush of his fingers against my neck as I sat, that it took me until Tom was also seated and ordering wine, to notice that we were seated at a table for two.

“Where are the others?”

Tom flicked me a casual glance as he took a sip from the cold glass of water the waiter had just poured. “What others?”

What others? I gritted my teeth. “You said this was a business meeting.” “Yes, but I didn’t say what business.”

Oh my God. This was a date! No way. First the bossiness, then the handholding . . . no. No, no, no. I pushed my chair out, about two seconds from shooting up to my feet when Tom’s next words froze me in place.

“You try to leave, I’ll tackle you.” Even though he wasn’t looking at me when he said it, I could tell he was deadly serious.

I couldn’t believe he’d tricked me into this. With a sullen expression, I pushed my chair back under the table. “Asshole.”

“Just for that, I expect you to wrap that dirty mouth of yours around my cock tonight.” He narrowed his eyes on me.

I felt the impact of those words as they pebbled my nipples and soaked my panties. Despite my body being completely turned on, I was floored. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me in a fancy restaurant where anyone might overhear. “Are you kidding?”

“Babe,” he gave me a look that suggested I was missing the obvious, “I never kid about blowjobs.”

The sound of someone choking brought my head up. Our waiter had descended on us just in time to hear those romantic words and his rosy cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “Ready to order?” he croaked out.

“Yes,” Tom answered, obviously uncaring he’d been overhead. “I’ll have the steak, medium-rare.” He smiled softly at me. “What are you having?” He took a swig of water.

He thought he was so cool and funny. “Apparently sausage.”

Tom choked on the water, coughing into his fists, his eyes bright with mirth as he put his glass back on the table.

“Are you okay, sir?” The waiter asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Tom waved the waiter off, his voice a little hoarse as his eyes pinned me to my seat. He shook his head, his grin getting wider by the second.

“What?” I shrugged innocently. “You’re sexy as fuck.”

The waiter was now staring at us openly, his head bobbing between us, waiting on what scandalous thing would be said next. I smiled up at him and closed my menu. “I’ll have the steak too. Also medium-rare.”

He took the menus from us and hurried off, probably to tell all the other waiters what he’d heard the restaurant owner say to his date. Grimacing, I kept that look on my face when I slid my gaze back to Tom. “You know, the whole point of this arrangement was that you didn’t have to buy me a fancy dinner to get laid.”

The sommelier approached with the red wine Tom had ordered and we were both silent as he poured a little out for Tom to taste. Satisfied with it, Tom gestured for the sommelier to proceed. As soon as he was gone, I lifted my glass and took a fortifying sip.

I could feel Tom’s eyes burning into me.

“Perhaps this is the ‘friends’ part,” he replied softly. “I want to spent time with my friend, Whatson.”

While that was nice . . . “That’s how things get complicated.” “Not if we don’t let them.”

He must have seen the doubt on my face because next thing his fingers were on my chin, gently lifting my face to his. “Just try it tonight.”

I could feel his touch like a shiver of ripples across my skin. I’d had him inside of me. He’d given me quite a number of orgasms. I knew the smell, taste and touch of him. I thought that would be enough. That it would be over. But looking at him, I realized it wasn’t anywhere near over. This attraction, this need, whatever the hell it was, it had only just caught fire, and neither of us was ready to call out the fire department just yet. “Okay.”

In response, he brushed his thumb over my mouth and smiled at me with his eyes before letting go.