Before I can open my big mouth and humiliate myself by revealing my scandalous thoughts, Enzo leads me past the checkin desk and into an elevator. We get out and he heads down the hall, to a host stand under a bamboo sign that reads “Tonga Room.”
I glance over his shoulder and say, “Oh! A restaurant.”
He turns around and looks at me with his eyebrows pressed over his nose like he’s puzzled. “Yeah. I hope you like Polynesian. Or, you know, the Tonga Room version of Polynesian.”
“Of course!” I say, way too eagerly.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but a polite host leads us through the bamboo-furnished room lit with twinkle lights and candles to a cozy table next to a huge, green lagoon with a floating pavilion in the middle. A band is playing romantic fifties songs from that little floating island. In the lagoon. In the middle of the restaurant.
“This place is amazing.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the sky above the lagoon opens up. Claps of thunder rumble through the dining area and the rain pouring from the ceiling pelts the still water. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”
Enzo looks happy about my reaction. “I’m glad you don’t think it’s too cheesy. People sometimes turn their noses up, like this is place gimmicky, but it’s the real deal. At least as far as imitation tiki bars go. The lagoon is actually the hotel’s old pool. They integrated it into the restaurant design instead of getting rid of it a couple decades ago.”
“I love that.” I pick up the menu and try to read through it, but it feels so amazing to be in this romantic little place on this date Enzo planned for the two of us, it’s actually a little distracting.
When the waiter comes over, Enzo gets a beer, but tells me I should order a stronger drink if I want, because he’s designated driver, and I live my life chained to work, so I may need some liquid fun.
“I’ve never really had a liquor-based drink,” I confess, embarrassed at how many ‘nevers’ I have on my list. “I don’t usually even drink more than a glass or two of wine.”
“Would you like to try our signature cocktail, miss?” the waiter asks, helpfully whipping out the cocktail menu and pointing to the Mai Tai. “It’s made with several different rums.”
“Rums.” I taste the word on my tongue, wondering if I would be able to tell different rums apart like I can tell which Chardonnay is from which vineyard within a twenty mile radius. “That sounds delicious. I’d love a Mai Tai.”
“It’s good,” Enzo assures me. “I think you’ll like it.” He looks down at his menu a little too studiously. I realize he’s trying not to smile.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling so hard now, he can’t even look at me.
“Enzo, are you laughing at me?” I ask calmly. It’s okay if he is. We laugh at each other all the time. But I’d like to at least know why I’m the butt of his joke.
“Just…never mind.” The look of relief on his face when the waiter comes back over is classic.
He puts our drinks in front of us. Mine is in a half of a coconut with a little paper umbrella poised on the side and lime slices floating on top. “Fancy,” I say with a smile for our waiter, who smiles right back, then gestures for me to take a sip.
“Please try it. I’ll be happy to get you something else if you don’t like it.”
I sip some of the liquid from the coconut and it’s a strange mix of sugar and fire. It takes a second for my tongue and throat to adjust, but as soon as they do, I decide I love the taste.
“This is incredible. Send my regards to the bartender, please.”
The waiter looks pleased. We give our orders and Enzo watches me sip my drink. Every swallow goes down smoother and more delicious than the last one.
“Slow down, Jordan,” he cautions. He can’t look my way without his face splitting into the biggest, cockiest smile I’ve ever seen.
I’m about to argue that I’m a grown woman and can certainly decide how much to drink all on my own, but my tongue is too thick for me to get the words out. I sit up straighter and speak slowly. So I don’t slur. “You keep smiling like that.” I point, accusingly, at his handsome, smiling face. “I’m not trying to be funny, which makes me think you’re definitely laughing at me instead of with me.”
“I’m not.” He throws that objection out way too quickly.
“Tell me, then,” I say, twirling the straw in my drink. When I squint down into the coconut, I’m definitely shocked at how very empty it is.
Much emptier than I expected.
I need to pull back before this becomes a repeat of my dad’s wedding.
“It’s nothing,” Enzo stalls. “Hey, I think the band is taking requests.”
“Enzo, tell me.”
When he looks at me, he’s still grinning hard. “Okay.” He grips the table edge and leans back. “I figured out why you were so confused that we wound up at a restaurant.”
My ears go flaming, on-fire red, I know they do because I can feel the molten lava flowing through them. And there isn’t jack I can do about it.
“I—it’s not what you—just I’ve never been—” I stutter.
He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “You thought I was taking you to a hotel.”
I put a cool hand on the back of my burning neck. “Wow. Okay. Holy crap, this is embarrassing.” I bite my lip and raise my eyes to his face. “Is it… is it really so hilarious?”
“I’m not laughing,” he says, his voice low, his smile suggesting he’s a liar.
“Really?” I pull the word out so it’s long and stretched. “So what’s up with that shit-eating grin?”
“I’m smiling because you looked so disappointed we were going out to eat.”
I blink, the full extent of my hussy behavior sending me on a shame spiral.
“Jordan?”
I look up at the sound of my name from his lips.
“I’ve never been so excited in my life. I don’t think sleeping together tonight would be a good idea for either one of us, but that fact that you might be as excited by the idea of it as I am…”
He lets his words trail, and, really, he doesn’t need to say anything else. The dark, hungry sheen of his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
“So it’s not ridiculous that I thought…” In a panic, and left unsure what else to do, I take a deep sip and suck up the rummy dregs of my drink.
Holy punch in a straw!
“Not ridiculous,” he repeats. “Flattering. Really, really flattering.”
Every part of me is overly warm, and I feel so damn good. So happy.
The food comes and saves us from having to dwell on it anymore. Not that it would have been a problem. As far as I can tell, we’re both pretty happy with eating and with the way our feet sometimes brush under the table, smiling, and just being quiet together.
When we’re both full, Enzo stands and offers his hand. “C’mon.”
I decide not to ask where. I let him lead me to the dance floor and lay my head on his shoulder when he takes me in his arms. We sway to an old song that’s familiar, but I can’t place the title or the name of the artist. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters other than the way we move together.
I brush my fingers over the back of his neck and nuzzle close to him, possessively, the way I’ve wanted to so many times before. It’s not official. Like we haven’t made any declarations or slapped on any labels, but it feels like he’s mine.
Who am I kidding? I claimed him that first night we met, at my father’s wedding, when he looked past my phony smile and unraveled the real me.
The song is about the innocent beauty of new love, but the way our bodies move to the music has nothing to do with innocence. The fact that we’re smack in the middle of a dance floor makes every slow rub of his hand down my spine and pull of his arm against the small of my back feel scandalous. He tilts his head low to mine and lets his lips
brush the side of my face, the spot right next to my ear, down my neck.
“You have no idea how much I want you right now, Jordan,” he says lowly, his voice sending a rush of shivers up and down my back.
“We are at a hotel,” I remind him.
“This is our first date. I’m not that guy.” His hand runs up my neck, under my hair, and cradles the back of my head.
“We’ve known each other for three months.” I’m so nervous, my head feels light, but I lean forward and press my lips to the side of his mouth. After a sharp intake of breath, he leans his forehead against mine. “I knew I wanted you the first time I saw you struggling with that wine tent.”
“I knew I wanted you when you were lying on the ground, with all those leaves stuck in your hair.” He laughs, I laugh, we thread our fingers together, and this night feels full of wild possibility.
We dance until the band takes a break, then Enzo heads off to take care of the bill, and I head to the ladies room. I look at my reflection in the mirror and pinch my cheeks, half to give my face a little color, half to make sure being here with him tonight isn’t just a figment of my wild imagination.
I give my pink-cheeked reflection a happy once-over and head back to him. Enzo puts his arm around me and we walk in step down to the elevators. When the doors close, he goes from the reserved, polite guy who just paid the tab and held my hand to someone wild.
And I love it.
He locks his hips against mine and walks me backward to the corner of the car. With an easy motion he lifts me up, one arm under my bottom, his other hand braced on the mirrored wall behind us.
“I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this,” he says, his voice as rough as his lips are gentle. He kisses me once, pulls back, kisses me again, just his lips pressed to mine. When he draws away again we lock eyes. I wrap my legs tight around his hips, put one hand on the side of his face, and lace the other arm around his neck.
“I don’t want to wait anymore either,” I breathe against his mouth, yanking him close.
His kisses go from gentle to fierce. He presses his body against mine, until my back is tight against the wall and I can feel every inch of him against every inch of me. He pulls his hand off the wall and runs his fingers down my arm, over my breast, and down lower, onto the length of thigh exposed by my bunched skirt.
His mouth forces mine open, his tongue licks at mine, deep and sweet, so the taste of him is all I can focus on. I moan into his mouth and he pulls back.
“You’re driving me crazy, Jordan,” he growls, his mouth running up and down my neck. I love the rough scratch of his five o’clock shadow on my skin.
I tug at the knot of his tie and lower my lips so I can kiss the hot, exposed skin on his neck. He lets out a low growl, then spins me around and walks us to the control panel. He’s still kissing me when he reaches around and hits the button for the top floor.
“What’s up there?” I ask, my voice breathy.
“The top floor,” he answers raggedly. “Hopefully no one will get on till we get there. And then, hopefully, we’ll make it back down without being interrupted.”
Before I can say anything else, his hand runs up one side of my thigh and down the other. He keeps running this gentle v up and down the insides of my thighs while his mouth trails down my neck. He lifts me higher and kisses the warm spot between my breasts.
“You smell like heaven,” he says, pressing slow, light kisses along the curve of each breast.
I lean my head back as the elevator ticks higher and the floor numbers illuminate. I pray that our luck will hold and the door will stay closed. His thumb brushes the edge of my panties. He flicks it underneath and runs it up and down, making me gasp. At the same time, his mouth works lower, nuzzling my breast out of my tiny demi bra and over the top of my neckline until he manages to suck my nipple into his mouth.
I gasp, knotting my hands in his hair, sure we’ll be caught any second and loving the thrill of doing something so risky and so damn sexy. His fingers move under the silky fabric of my panties, and he looks up at me, his green eyes almost black, waiting for me to tell him how far to push this.
The elevator dings. We’ve reached the top floor.
I throw a wild hand out and hit the button to close the door and then the button for the lobby.
“Let’s see if we can make the trip down twice as fun as the trip up,” I say, blushing a little at my own words.
Enzo’s eyes widen, he sucks at me harder, and his fingers slide deep inside me, shocking me with the sweet, full feeling of his touch. He slides his fingers in and out of me, using the slick heat of my body to circle just where I’m most sensitive. I buck my hips against his fingers, press my lips to his thick, black hair. The smell of him couples with the steady slide of his fingers and the urgent suck and pull of his mouth. I feel like every nerve ending is frayed and exposed.
The floors flip by, one after another, bringing us lower quicker than I want. I rock into him, my body making a fruitless attempt to get closer, even though I love that I can’t.
“Enzo, we’re almost to the lobby,” I gasp, everything in me starting to unravel.
He slides against me quicker, pulls his mouth away and commands, “Come for me, Bonita.”
My entire body draws in and pulls tight. And then, with a sharp cry, it all explodes, and I feel myself shudder and go limp in his arms. He pulls my dress up at the neck and down at the waist, smoothes my hair and kisses my lips over and over. I’m still in his arms, panting, when the door opens and we step into the lobby.
“You didn’t…” I nod shyly and he follows the line of my sight down to his crotch, then looks back up at me.
“I wanted you to.” He reaches up and tucks a curl behind my ear.
“I can—”
“I’m very satisfied, Jordan.” He cups the side of my face with his hand. “How about you?”
I think about what we just did, and it feels kind of unreal. And so sexy and amazing and…
“Thank you,” I say as answer.
“It was my pleasure.” His smile is so wide it borders on goofy. “I’m going to hit the restroom before we head out. Five seconds, okay?”
He kisses me, then tries to walk off, but I grab his tie and pull him back. He cages his arms around me, presses me to the wall, and kisses me again.
“Let me go, woman, or I’m gonna break my own rules and get that hotel room,” he says.
“I like rule breakers.” He walks backwards a few steps, then shakes his head, comes back to me, and kisses me breathless before he leaves for real.
I stand against the wall, hugging myself, eyes closed, when a slurred voice interrupts my delicious mental play by play of my elevator ride with Enzo.
“Jordan?”
I open my eyes and drop my arms, my good mood evaporated. “Brecken. What are you doing here?”
My idiot ex juts a thumb to the large ballroom down the hall, where the sounds of a party in full swing spill out. “Engagement party.”
Brecken is so completely a part of my past, I don’t even feel a blip of regret. I’m only annoyed that of all the places in San Francisco for him to be celebrating tonight, he had to cross my path here.
When I tell him, “Congratulations,” I mean it sincerely. And hope he’ll accept my good wishes and leave.
Of course, that doesn’t happen.
“Thanks.” He leans one shoulder against the wall, way too close to my personal space, and gestures to me with the bottle he holds loosely in his fist. It’s whiskey from his fiancée’s family’s business. I try hard not to roll my eyes. “You look good. Really good.” He takes a swig and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe I should’ve given you the ring instead.”
There’s a sick feeling low in my gut. “Look, it was nice running into you, Brecken, but—”
He interrupts my polite lie, grabbing me by the wrist. I try to pull back, but he’s got a strong hold. “The way I left you was really…Jordan, I wa
s a prick, I know that now. And don’t think I don’t…regret it.” He drops his voice and leans too close when he says it. His blue eyes are so bloodshot and unfocused, I’m fairly sure he’ll remember exactly none of this tomorrow.
“I don’t regret a thing. It was a relief to be rid of you,” I say, and I feel like I shed some kind of weight I never even realized I was carrying.
“Alright, I deserved that,” Brecken says, weaving too close. “You deserved better than I treated you, Jordan. But we had some fun together, didn’t we?”
“Did we?” I ask, sidestepping him. “If I remember correctly, you told me I was ‘frigid,’ ‘uptight,’ and ‘just not fun anymore.’” I shake my head at him. He looks gaunt, like he’s been spending too much time nursing the bottles of whiskey he certainly has an unlimited supply of now. He holds himself with the kind of entitled arrogance I used to mistake for confidence. Now I know I was just dazzled by his fake charms. “Brecken, you should go back to your party.”
I go cold when he puts out a rough hand, grabbing my breast hard. I look up, but realize with a panic my efforts to avoid him led us further down the hall, away from the buzz of people and their foot traffic. If anyone looks down the hall, we’ll most likely look like a couple who slipped into the shadows for a little alone time.
“Get your hand off me,” I hiss, pushing him on the chest hard.
Even drunk, he’s more solid than I am, stronger and more aggressive. He catches both my wrists in his hands and yanks me closer to him. I have to turn my head to the side because the burn of his whiskey breath makes my eyes sting. I attempt to snap his hold, but he grabs tight enough I think he may leave a mark on my wrists.
“You’re feisty tonight,” he laughs, pulling me into him. “Damn, if you acted a little more like this when we screwed, I may not have seen what else I could get.”
“You’re fucking pathetic,” I say sharply, ashamed of the tears that prick my eyes. I try to rip my hands back, but he squeezes until I cry out, playing with me like he’s a predator and I’m his weak prey.
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