He’s slicing into the goat cheese ravioli while I tell him about my friends Charity and Shawn.
I nibble on a crab cake as he fills me in on the firm, his partners, and the office, making me laugh as he tells stories of his staff pranking him by sending him singing telegrams, which he happens to find incredibly embarrassing.
He chews on calamari as he listens to me go on about this time Charity and I went skiing, only to be stuck at the top of the mountain because she was too scared to come down.
We laugh about our common love of the show Impractical Jokers while enjoying our oysters. We happen to have the same favorite episode and a deep love for the comics.
Over a shrimp tempura roll, he reminds me of being an only child, and I tell him about growing up as the youngest of five children.
“My sisters are both married to their college sweethearts. My brothers have gorgeous and equally successful wives.”
“Nieces and nephews?” he asks.
“Six,” I say, and his eyes widen. “They’re awesome and my absolute pride and joy. You’d think that would keep everyone happy enough to not worry about my single status, but it only makes things worse.”
“Ah, so you’re the spinster of the group.”
I raise a fork in agreement. “Yep. My parents aren’t my biggest problem though. It’s the siblings. They’re all professionals—a doctor, day trader, vice principal, and an ad executive—so my entrepreneurial whims are a little too adventurous for them to grasp. Plus, they never approve of anyone I bring home. Heather analyzes his job. Fiona, his looks. Henry thinks he’s smarter than everyone—and possibly is—while Matthew is ready to bench anyone just to show he’s more masculine. No man stands a chance against the Morgana crew.”
“Then, you’re not bringing the right man over to see them,” he says with a cocky smile.
“Have anyone in mind?” I tease.
“I bet I could come up with someone.” He winks.
Everything about dinner is going great. The food is amazing, the service is prompt and friendly, and my date is … well … a dream. As someone who just came out of a one-sided relationship, I can instantly feel the difference. Sebastian is a proud man but not in a negative way. In fact, I feel as if he looks at me, a woman he has welcomed into his world, as something he finds pride in as well.
He wants to know about me, and in return, I’m enamored by him. When you look up the word swoonworthy on the internet, I bet there’s a picture of Sebastian Blake next to the definition.
Our dishes are cleared, and the waitress comes to ask if we’d like anything else. Sebastian declines and asks for the check. He must sense my confusion as he leans in.
“You seem disappointed in no dessert.”
“Surprised actually. I hope you don’t think I’m a confection snob.”
“Not at all. I happen to have something special planned.”
“How special?”
“A jazz club.”
“Jazz, huh? What makes you think I’d like that?”
“It’s more of a jazz fusion club. When I called last night to tell you what time to be ready, I heard the music in the background.”
He has a good ear. I was listening to the Lady Lady album by Masego. The artist incorporates the saxophone into his music creation, making a sexy, sultry blend.
“Jazz for dessert it is.”
He moves his hand across the table until it’s lying on top of mine. His palm is large and hot as it encloses my tiny one. “I also heard they serve the most amazing chocolate martinis.”
A slow, sexy smile graces my face as I look at him from under my lashes. “Well, Mr. Blake, it seems you have figured out a way into this woman’s heart,” I say as I roll my palm over, exposing it to his.
He takes my hand and raises it to his lips. “Then, let’s get out of here.”
We drive to the other side of town, where a neon sign with the word Jazz is lit up in blue outside the building. After we exit the car, Sebastian holds the door for me as I step inside, and I feel like I’ve been transported to another time.
Red brick walls are on two sides of the room with large windows in the front, and drapes hang tall and long behind a stage. A four-piece band plays up front with someone else on a black grand piano.
The hostess walks us to a table with a placard that says Reserved. As soon as we sit down, a waitress, who smiles at Sebastian in a familiar way, places chocolate martinis in front of us.
“I take it, she knew we were coming then?” I run my finger along the rim of the glass.
“I might or might not have sent her a text, saying we were on our way. She dates a friend of mine.”
We cheers, and I sip the most decadent martini I’ve had in a while.
Unlike at the restaurant, Sebastian and I are seated side by side as we watch the band and listen to the music. His arm wraps around the booth behind us, making it easy for me to slide into his side without seeming forward. Our hips touch, and there’s something about the contact of our bodies, as simple as it is, that ignites a fire in my belly.
He talks to me throughout the set, speaking directly into my ear so I can hear him over the trumpet. His breath tickles my skin, and the citrusy scent of his cologne is invigorating.
I turn my head to respond, and our faces are close. So close that my chest rises with the deep inhale as I look up into his steely gaze and lick my lips, having to bite down so I don’t do something foolish, like attack this man and kiss him senseless.
Because I want to.
From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, electricity courses through my body, and I’m dying to latch on to this man and taste his lips and touch his body. I could blame it on the martini I’ve drank or the oysters, which are said to be an aphrodisiac. That would all be a lie, of course. No food or drink could make me want this man more than his mere presence does.
Sebastian Blake is a walking, talking aphrodisiac.
“Dance with me,” he croons, and I nod with a swallow.
He rises and takes my hand, walking me over to a small dance floor, where a few people are gliding to the music.
His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush to him. His hard body is like a magnet for my soft one. His other hand skims my hip as I raise my arms around his neck and move with him.
We sway to the beat of the saxophone.
My heart pounds with the bass.
As he lowers his forehead to mine, my entire soul gives in completely. It’s silly really. A man I met barely two weeks ago has barreled his way into my world, and I’m beyond smitten. I should hate men after what Hardin did to me.
I can’t though. Not when this one is holding me close and staring at me from under hooded eyes, like I’m the only woman in the room. No, he’s looking at me like I’m the last living being in the entire world.
I move my hand down to his chest and lay it over the space where his heart beats hard and fast. His hand clenches my side, and I know he’s just as affected as I am.
“I want to kiss you, Amy,” he whispers in the space between us.
“Why don’t you?”
“I’m afraid if I start, I won’t want to stop, and we’re not in the most private of places.”
“Good thing you have restraint,” I say.
His brows curve in concern. “Why’s that?”
“Because I have none.”
My cheeks are flush, my body is aching, and my heels rise as I lean up and kiss him. In a jazz club with the rhythmic beats of a sultry ballad, on a dance floor, in front of people who are probably too consumed by their own lives to notice, I kiss him.
His mouth parts instantly and welcomes me in, sliding his tongue against mine, eliciting a moan from deep in my throat. My hands grip his neck as I pull him closer, savoring his delicious mouth. His hands hold me tighter as my fingers grip at his shirt.
Chests press up against each other, and groins roll. It’s a good thing we’re already dancing because the movement must loo
k lethal. Our kiss is heady and delicious—the kind you can get lost in for days.
Thankfully, Sebastian pulls away before we get too carried away.
Our foreheads find one another again. Our breaths are pants as we gaze into each other’s eyes and smile.
“This is happening?” he asks, and I nod happily. “We are happening.”
“I like we.”
“I like you. A lot.” He kisses my forehead and takes my hand as he walks us back to the table.
I snuggle into his side and enjoy the rest of the evening, drinking, listening, stealing kisses, and loving every moment of being by Sebastian’s side.
When the night is over, we walk to the car and head back to my place. I have Sebastian pull up into the alley this time. It might not be glamorous, but it’s my home, and it’s late.
He looks out the window, seeming uncomfortable. “This is the only way inside?”
“It’s the direct way. You can also access it from the gym but only during business hours.”
“This is your business and your home?”
“Yep. My own piece of heaven,” I joke.
His face still looks disturbed, so I grab his chin, lean over, and kiss him—a surefire way to get that expression off his face. Now, he is drinking in my kisses, gripping my waist, and pulling me over to him. I kick off my shoes and crawl over the center console to straddle his waist.
My dress rides up my hips, and my lace thong and his pants are the only fabric between us. His thick, granite-like erection springs forward, and I still for a second, surprised by the mass between my thighs before moving on instinct, finding it a welcoming friction.
His hands are in my hair as he groans. I take the opportunity to run my fingertips down his torso, exploring his gorgeous physique over his clothes.
Our simple kiss turns hot and heavy quickly. His hands move to my waist, holding me steady as his hips lift up and push into me, making me gasp at the feel of his cock hitting the most absolute perfect spot to cause shivers all over my body.
We’re completely clothed, and yet every move is tangibly erotic. My breasts are heavy, nipples tingling with electricity that rushes down my spine and straight to my core.
We kiss and paw at each other like teenagers until I’m about to combust.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask, almost coy.
“I do,” he says in earnest. “But I won’t.” He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, frustration evident in the bite of his jaw. His expression says it all. “I’m going to hate myself in a few minutes for doing this, but I should call it a night.”
My shoulders fall, as does my face, I’m sure, because the rejection stings.
“Hey.” He grips my chin and kisses me again. “I’m putting the brakes on this because I like you, Amy. More than I’m ready to explain. I think this thing between us can go somewhere, and I’m not in a rush. In fact, I want to do everything correctly. If that means going home with an insane case of blue balls, then so be it. I hope I’m explaining this clearly because telling you to go inside without me is the last thing I want to do. But it’s the right thing to do.”
Well, how can a girl be upset after a declaration like that?
I smile and kiss him again. We don’t stop for a while, making out like teenagers who just can’t get enough of each other. Because that’s how I feel. Like I will never get enough of Sebastian Blake.
It pains me to slide off of him, but I do. He helps me fix my dress and then gets out of the car to open my door.
He walks me to my stoop and kisses my cheek. It’s so chaste that it’s adorable.
I unlock the door and walk inside when he grabs me and pulls me back for yet another long, deep kiss after pushing me up against the wall.
“Sweet dreams, Amy.”
“Good night.”
“Get inside quick because I’m rethinking this decision.”
“I’m more than happy to help you rethink it,” I tease, but he swats me on the butt, and I yelp in laughter as I rush inside and close the door.
As I stand in my dark, empty kitchen, I can honestly say I’ve never felt more alive.
It’s going to be very easy to fall in love with Sebastian Blake.
Chapter Seven
“Someone is smitten.” Charity shimmies her hips as we walk down the street.
There’s a vendor on the corner, selling flowers. I stop and smell a bouquet of roses. They have a fruity and spicy scent with a bit of moss. So fresh and invigorating, like a certain man.
“What makes you think that?” I ask as I check out the sign to see how much they are.
“You’re practically skipping, and you’re buying yourself flowers.”
I hand cash to the gentleman at the booth and grab a pink bouquet. The smile on my face is huge as I look over at my best friend. “Let’s just say, I’m enamored. Punch-drunk,” I say and then add, “Hooked!”
Charity stops walking. It takes a second for me to realize she’s not by my side. When I turn around, I see her jaw has dropped, and her brows are raised.
“I was wrong. You’re not smitten,” she says. “You’re love-struck.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not there … yet.”
“Hell yes, you are. When was the last time you spoke to me about a guy? I’ll tell you. It was Hardin, and you were so in love that you moved in with him. You, my friend, are not a kiss-and-tell kind of lady, but I’m going to demand you tell. Because with that goofy expression on your face, you most certainly kissed him.”
I smash my lips together and grab her by the arm, bringing my nose close to her face and declaring, “We kissed. Oh my God, did we kiss. It was … amazing.”
I’m practically dancing at the memory of just how heated our make-out session became last night. My toes curled, my thighs tingled, and my senses came alive. Today, I feel like the sun is hotter, the sky is brighter, and everything smells extraordinary.
“Does he have a brother? Because I’m ready to drink from whatever fountain you’re tasting.”
“Sorry. Only child.”
“Of course he is.” She stops again, holding her arms out to her sides and looking up at the sky when she yells, “What does a girl have to do to meet a good man in this city with a steady job and a semi-decent face, who doesn’t want to dip and ditch?!”
I grab her forcefully and pull her to walk again, away from the woman with her dog, staring at us like Charity is a mental patient. “Maybe you need to ditch the dating apps.”
“And what, start randomly texting guys to see if they’re single?”
I shrug. “Worked for me.”
She lowers her chin and stares up through curved brows, as if to say, Fuck you, Amy, and the white knight you humped last night.
“Teasing. Kind of. Swiping left and right isn’t getting you anywhere. Maybe you need to hit the clubs like Shawn. He always has a girlfriend.”
“That’s because he’s hot.”
Now, it’s my turn to freeze and face her with a wild expression. “You think Shawn’s hot?”
She points a finger at my face. “If you ever tell him that, I’ll kill you.” With a sway of her hair, she starts to walk again. “That man’s ego is already huge.”
“I knew you felt something for him.”
She waves a hand in dismissal. “No. I was just making a point, and you can’t deny that he’s not a catch.”
“I suppose you’re right. He does make a steady paycheck, has more than a semi-decent face, and probably won’t … what was it? Dip and ditch?”
“Mock away, my friend. My standards are starting to become lower and lower. Did you know that in Philly, there’s point-seven-six-nine men to every woman? I can’t even get a whole man! I have to share a piece of him with some other broad who’s also looking for her true love!”
A car drives by and honks at us, the driver screaming obscenities about our butts. We both turn and give him the finger as he rolls on by.
“Wh
ere is my Romeo? When am I going to find someone to snuggle and watch movies with? To take me dancing and laugh with?”
Poor Charity. She might come off needy to some, but she’s just vulnerable to love. She wants it badly. It breaks my heart for someone so beautiful, successful, and fun to still be on the lookout for her guy.
I snake my arm around her shoulders and pull her in as we stroll. “Tell you what. I’ll ask Sebastian if he has any friends. There’s a whole law firm of men. I bet he can find someone who has Romeo potential.”
She grips my hand that’s resting on her shoulder and perks up. “A lawyer, huh? I can definitely go for some courtroom role-play in the bedroom.”
I laugh loudly. “That’s my girl.” I give her the flowers in my hand, which makes her smile in thanks.
Charity takes off for her apartment while I head back to my place. The gym is bustling today, but I sneak into my secret door without a strange look, making sure to lock it behind me since Shawn isn’t coming in.
I put on some music and tie my apron on, getting to work on making extra-dark truffles. I grab a cutting board, metal bowl, and Santoku knife. The chocolate bars are in a box on the counter, so I unload the bricks of semisweet chocolate and start chopping it up. The trick to successful truffles is to get the chocolate into very small pieces. The finer the chocolate chunks, the quicker they are to melt.
I’m getting things ready while singing along to the music when there’s a ring at the back door. I look at my phone to see a man on my Ring app, holding a bouquet of flowers toward the camera. After I wipe my hands on the side of my apron, I head toward the door to see who it is.
“Delivery for Amy Morgana.” He hands a large vase to me with an impressive assortment of sunflowers, and I falter a little, not prepared for how heavy it is.
“Wait one second,” I command. I put the vase down on a table and then rush over to my purse to grab money for a tip. I hand it over, and then I close the door behind me and look at the arrangement.
It’s covered in cellophane and tissue paper, so I peel away the decoration and remove the card that’s stapled onto it.
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