“You know, Eric, sometimes I find myself just a little bit curious. I wonder what it’d be like to play like Lisa and Ben play.” Her mouth dried and as she finished her sentence. Eric’s arm tensed under her hand. He glanced to the side and surveyed the mostly empty diner.
Gillie kept her gaze on him, knowing no one could hear them. She’d slipped a twenty to the hostess on the way in, just to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. She held her breath until Eric’s dilating eyes returned to hers. The soft flesh between her breasts quivered.
“I suppose every couple is different,” Eric replied, betraying nothing.
“My fantasies make me hot. And…and I was wondering if…” breathe, “…you might be interested in exploring with me?”
Eric blinked a few times before clearing his throat.
“Are you asking…if I would…if you and I could…?” His eyebrows were high and his voice sounded low and gravelly.
Gillian nodded, never breaking eye contact. She shivered from her spine down to her hips as Eric searched her face. She left herself open, tilting her chin. Emotions played on his features, thoughts Gillie couldn’t hope to read and, if she were honest, didn’t really want to understand.
Of course, it was complicated. Of course, it would change things. Those details didn’t concern her, not anymore. She would have him, even if it were just for one night.
“Gillian, I—” Eric looked away.
“Don’t.” She gripped his arm.
He stiffened. Panic jolted in her belly. She let go. Consent can’t be forced. She shoved her hands back under the table so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him again.
“Eric,” she made her voice even and sure, “I don’t want any promises, really, I don’t. I don’t want to talk about the past or the future—not even next week or next month. I just need one night. I need this. It’s all I can think about, and,” she took a deep breath, “I think you want it, too.”
She’d done it. No matter what he said, things would never be the same.
She looked out across the diner, trying to give Eric time and privacy to think. Gillie closed her eyes. If Eric walked out, she didn’t want to watch.
Her heart jerked as the diner bench creaked. He hadn’t left, however, he’d come round to her bench and settled in next to her. Rough heat radiated from his fingertips as he slid them, slowly and lightly, from her cheek to her chin. His knuckle touched the bottom of her chin and urged her face up.
When she opened her eyes, she found a lingering reserve reflected in his. Her gaze fell to the opening of his shirt. A few dark hairs peeked out and she imagined how he would look when naked. Light curls would spread across his chest, tapering off lower to a taut stomach and then…Oh God. She licked her lips. Closing her eyes again, she focused on the sensation of his finger on her chin.
“Tell me more about your needs.” His baritone broke her reverie.
Light as an eyelash-kiss, his knuckle retraced its path across her cheek. Gillian couldn’t call forth a single sound, though her breath returned in a rush. There was a vast gap between suggesting a fantasy and actually spelling one out. She edged toward the precipice.
“I…I…” Gillian peeked around him. The diner was empty except for a few old men reading papers at the far counter.
Eric wrapped one arm about her waist. She snuggled into his hard, athletic body and inhaled. His soothing scent filled her, dissolving the tension from her shoulders. He stroked her hair to a gentle rhythm and effervescent bubbling tingled in her chest like cold champagne.
“Better?” he asked, his lips muffled by her hair.
“Yes,” she sighed. His warmth eased through her and her heartbeat slowed until it matched his, steady and strong.
“Tell me what you want, Gillie. Tell me everything,” he whispered against her ear. His tone held just a hint of command. Gillian sucked in her bottom lip. She loved that tone.
