by Bromberg, K
“Thank you,” I say, reaching out to smooth his tie. “You don’t look bad yourself. I like you in a tie.”
“Note to self—skip the gym and keep the tie more often.” He drops a ten-dollar bill on the bar and slides off his stool, motioning toward the front of the restaurant. “Let’s see if our table’s ready. I checked with the hostess a few minutes ago, and she said it should be set soon.”
“Perfect. I’m starving,” I admit, shivering slightly as he puts his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the growing crowd milling around the bar. Even through my clothes, his touch is enough to send electricity zipping across my skin.
“Cold?” he asks.
I shake my head, saved from having to say more as the hostess makes eye contact with Graham and motions for us to follow her up the steps to the dining area. I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling so self-conscious, but I’m nearly as nervous as I was that first night at Patio West.
Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m feeling self-conscious, and I decide to confront the issue head-on.
As soon as we’re seated with menus and the hostess has stepped away with assurances that our server will be with us soon, I brace my hands on the table and lean in to whisper, “Thank you for the flowers. And the dessert. I’m sorry we fought.”
Graham leans in, mirroring my pose. “We didn’t fight. We had conflicting opinions that were amicably resolved with assurances and presents.”
“Very nice presents. The flowers were incredible,” I continue in a soft voice. “But still. You were right. I was letting the meeting with Lucy affect my thinking when that really has nothing to do with us.”
“Exactly. That was a very different situation.”
“Totally different,” I whisper with a firm nod.
Graham’s forehead wrinkles as he whispers back, “Why are we whispering?”
My grin turns into a laugh. “I don’t know,” I say at normal volume, my shoulders relaxing away from my ears as I sit back in my chair. “Growing up, my dad had a thing about keeping dinner conversation light and as emotion-free as possible. I guess he got in my head a little.”
“Parents will do that to you,” Graham agrees. “I can’t leave the apartment without doing a walk-through to make sure all the lights are off. I keep hearing my dad’s voice in my head preaching the evils of wasting electricity.”
“Aw, Bob,” I say affectionately, thinking of his gruff, no-nonsense father, who loves to laugh—loudly—at anything and everything. “How’s he doing? Did they let him back in the fishing club yet?”
“Not yet,” Graham says. “But he and Mom took up tennis so he has an outlet for his competitive streak. From what he tells me, they’re crushing it in the mixed doubles over-fifty-five division in the local league.”
I shake my head in admiration. “That’s awesome.”
“It is. Now as long as they can resist the urge to play each other too often, they should be able to make it to the over-sixty-five division without filing for divorce. The only thing they love more than each other is winning.”
“No. I’ve seen the way they look at the other. You can’t fool me. They are proof that love can last.”
His smile softens. “Yeah, they are.”
I start to ask him if his mom’s still working part-time, when our server appears. Graham lifts a brow in my direction as he points to the menu. “The usual, I assume?”
I nod. “Yes, with the chimichurri on the side and—”
“No beans on the antipasto plate,” he finishes before communicating the rest of our order. We both love to try new things, but when the flank steak, truffle pasta, and antipasto variety platter are this good, I can’t bring myself to part from tradition.
“My mouth is already watering,” I confess, biting my lip as our server hurries away. “You’re going to have to fight me for the last mozzarella ball tonight.”
Graham laughs. “You can have it. I had more than my share last time we were here, before Thanksgiving, when you had to leave early so you wouldn’t miss your show. How was that one, by the way? Funny Farm, wasn’t it?”
“Fun Home,” I correct with a roll of my eyes. Graham is pretty well versed in the classic musicals, but I haven’t dragged his appreciation into the current century just yet. “It was incredible. Beautiful. Funny. Heart-wrenching. I ugly-cried so hard at the end I had to go to the ladies’ room as soon as the curtain was up and clean the mascara off my cheeks.”
His brows draw together in concern. “And that was an enjoyable night at the theater for you?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. It was. The story is about a lot of things, but the theme that got to me was how the fear and shame we don’t deal with as we grow up is passed on to our children. A kind of legacy of pain, you know? And how loving and accepting yourself, even when society is telling you that you don’t deserve love, truly is a gift you give the world, not just the person in the mirror. I thought that was beautiful. And important.”
“Wow,” Graham says, sobering. “I didn’t realize musicals got that heavy.”
I shrug. “Sometimes. There were funny parts too, but I think that was the part I needed to hear.”
Graham’s head tilts quizzically. “Really? But you always seem so . . . you. Unapologetically you, and happy about it.”
I grin. “Well, I am usually. But there are times, like when facing down my twenty-sixth birthday without experiencing things I was certain I would have experienced by this point, that I struggle.”
He nods thoughtfully, holding my gaze as a slow smile curves his lips.
“What?” I laugh again. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m smiling because I’m glad you decided to stop waiting for experiences to find you and decided to hunt them down for yourself. And I’m glad I’m the one who gets to show you what you’ve been missing.”
My cheeks flush, and my chest feels warmer than it did before. “Me too.”
His eyes glittering, he adds, “And you are absolutely worthy of love and acceptance. You’re one of my favorite people and, as you know, I have excellent taste.”
My gaze falls to my bread plate as the warm feeling floods through the rest of me, all the way to the tips of my fingertips and toes. And I know what this feeling is. It is familiar to me from bear hugs from my brother, and hour-long girl-talk sessions with Chloe, and long, lazy summers with my grandmother before she passed away, learning how to knit and laughing over old episodes of SNL.
But I’ve never experienced it like this, all tangled up with wanting to press my lips to every inch of the person who’s inspiring the sensation, to thank him for making me feel loved in my body as well as in my soul.
I know Graham doesn’t love me romantically. But his words are the perfect reminder of why this is so right . . . and so dangerous.
Who better to teach me how to make love than someone who loves me already?
But who is it riskier to learn with than someone I know I could fall so hard for, who only loves me as a friend?
“You okay, Butterfly?” he asks, his hand coming to rest on my knee under the table.
I look up, forcing a smile. “Yes, I am.” I take a deep breath and add in a teasing tone, “Though I’m not going to look very sexy in whatever lingerie you have picked out for our lesson later. I can’t resist seconds of the truffle stuff, and I’m not even going to try.”
“You will always be sexy in anything you wear,” he says, giving my knee a gentle squeeze. “But I didn’t pick out any lingerie for tonight. You want to know why?”
I nod.
He runs his hand up my knee. “Because the lesson I want you to learn is that you’re beautiful just as you are. You’re gorgeous in whatever you choose for yourself, be that panties, T-shirts, music, friends, work, or anything else.”
A flush spreads over my chest as my heart beats harder, faster, trying desperately to wiggle closer to him. “Thank you,” I say, because it’s all I can manage.
>
“Besides, the other lesson for tonight is that sex can be amazing when you do whatever feels right for you. When you’re ready, whenever that is.”
When I’m ready . . .
I nod, nerves and breathless excitement flaring behind my ribs, making it feel like a balloon is inflating in my chest. But before I can give verbal confirmation that yes, I’m ready, all ready, so ready, the server arrives with food and share plates. So much food. Delicious, incredible food.
But I can barely taste it.
I can’t focus on the rich, yet delicate cream sauce or the perfectly firm pillows of smoky mozzarella. I am only partially present for my conversation with Graham about Luna, his best friend from grad school who is preparing to launch a new fleet of food trucks in the financial district, or our discussion of why Birreria’s tiramisu is superior to all others in the city.
All I can think about is that tonight is the night. In an hour, maybe less, I will know things that I’ve never known, and I will never be the same. And Graham will be there, and he will forever be a part of this story, this decision, this transition from one stage of my life to the next.
And yes, it’s a little scary. But it’s also right. Because I’m ready.
Chapter 18
Graham
Handle with care.
That’s what I keep telling myself during the car ride to my place.
Be gentle.
Take it slow.
But when she kisses me like this, all lips, teeth, and a newly discovered confidence that’s downright addictive, I don’t want to take it slow. I want to slam my lips to hers, tangle my hands in her silky hair, yank her head back, and leave a trail of rough kisses up the gorgeous column of her throat.
I try to slow my pace, but she’s leading now, kissing me hard and relentlessly, almost as if she’s saying over and over I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.
She might be, but I need a breather for a second.
I press my hands on her shoulders and separate us. “CJ, you’re driving me crazy.”
She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “Isn’t that the goal?”
“Butterfly, you’ve already reached the goal. We need to slow down till we get to my place. I don’t want to hurt you, and right now, you’re kind of making me want to pull you under me and take you right here in the car.”
Mischief sparkles in her eyes. “I thought you were the one who said you won’t break?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Yes, I remember. But it’s you I’m concerned about.”
“News flash,” she whispers. “I’m not going to break either. And I really like wild, crazy kissing.”
I close my eyes and groan, my bones humming with pleasure. I glance out the window, grateful for the familiar view of the buildings on my street. The car pulls to the curb, and I thank Gary.
A few minutes later, the elevator doors close, and I press CJ to the wall, returning the favor from the car, kissing her neck, sucking on her jaw, and devouring her lips. This time, she’s the one who groans first.
“Payback,” I tease.
“I want more payback,” she says in a dirty whisper.
I oblige with more ravenous kisses.
She moans my name, and it sounds needy and desperate, and that’s exactly how I want her tonight. Because if she feels that way, then there’s a damn good chance I can make her first time amazing for her.
That’s how I want it to be.
When the doors open, and we walk down the hall, the words handle with care flash again through my mind. But there are new ones too. Listen to her.
She’s been telling me something.
She doesn’t want to be treated like a box filled with china. She wants me to treat her like the woman she is. And I’m determined to give her exactly what she wants, everything she needs.
Once inside my home, she turns to me and whispers, “Bedroom. Now. Please.”
A shudder racks my body, a bolt of lust that nearly overwhelms me with its power. Her power. This woman is so goddamn sexy. She might be innocent in body, but in her mind, she knows exactly what she wants.
When we reach my bedroom, I flick the light on low. “I need to see you.” My eyes roam over her from head to toe, loving the way she looks in that dress. She kicks off her shoes as I let my fingertips play at the hem. A soft smile is my reward as she lifts her arms, and I pull the sweater fabric over her head.
I groan, probably louder than the last time I came, because of what I see underneath. She kills me with her sexiness, slays me with her pure sensuality.
Tonight, she’s wearing white. A lace demi-cup bra and lace panties. They are so simple and so pretty, and so intoxicatingly her. The color is a secret message, just for me. She’s giving me this gift of herself, and she’s wrapped her gorgeous body up so perfectly.
“See? I didn’t need to send you anything. You knew exactly what you needed to wear to feel beautiful.” I run the back of my fingers over her cheek. “Do you feel beautiful? Because you are. So beautiful.” I press my body against hers, letting her feel the evidence of how much I want her.
“Yes. I do.” A ragged breath falls from her lips as my hands move to her breasts. I cover them, kneading them, squeezing them, then my hands band around her back, and I unhook her bra. Before the soft material can fall to the floor, I grab it and toss it on the bureau.
I bury my face between her perfect tits, licking the tops, sucking on her nipples. I walk her backward to the bed and lay her down on it. She grabs a pillow, sets it under her head, and looks at me with wide eyes.
“There’s only one rule tonight,” I say as I unknot my tie and take it off. “You tell me if something doesn’t feel right. Be open with me. I need to know how you feel so I can make it good for you. Can you do that?”
She nods.
I bite my lip as I slide her white panties down. “Wait. There’s one more rule.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I need to eat you first.”
A naughty smile is my reward. “If you insist.”
After I tug her panties off, I bury my face between her legs, licking and kissing her glorious wetness, and driving her wild in seconds. Soon enough, she’s rocking into my mouth, grabbing my hair, pulling me even closer. Her moans intensify, carrying across the night. Soon, she’s nearing the edge, and I kiss her hungrily, greedily, until I can taste her flooding my tongue, covering my lips.
“So good,” she moans as she drifts back to earth. “So, so good.”
“My pleasure. Every second.” I stand, unbuttoning my shirt as she blinks open her eyes. They are glassy and sex-hazy, and her hair is a wild mess.
“I think you’re trying to get me drunk on orgasms,” she breathes.
“I see absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t come as often as possible.” Tossing my shirt to the floor, I move my hands to my jeans. She shakes her head and sits up, reaching for the button. “Let me.”
I drop my hands to my sides and stare as she unzips my jeans, pushing them down my thighs, allowing my dick to make its appearance. A soft, sexy sigh falls from her gorgeous mouth.
As I take off the rest of my clothes, she gazes up at me, excitement and anticipation clear in her beautiful brown eyes. She’s so eager, so curious, and it’s such a gift to have her trust, to be the first person to experience her like this.
My heart beats faster, from pleasure but also from something more, something entirely new that I’m only beginning to understand. But I can’t sort it out now. All I can think about is how much I need to be closer to her, joined with her, feeling her tight around me for the first time.
I grab a condom from my wallet.
As I open it, she grabs my wrist and says, “There’s something I need to say.”
I wince inside, but steel myself for whatever comes next. I’m dying to be inside her, but I don’t want her to do anything she isn’t ready for. And as I look in her eyes, it hits me—I care so much more for her than I realized before our classe
s started. And this has become so much more than lessons in seduction.
If she’s not ready, I’ll wait, blue balls be damned. If she needs another month, hell, a year, I’ll be here. I’ll wait until she’s ready.
I just want it to be me that she’s ready for.
“What is it, Butterfly? Tell me anything,” I say gently.
Her gaze locks with mine. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
And if I wasn’t already lost for her, that pretty much seals the deal.
Chapter 19
CJ
Just because I’ve carried my V card for a quarter of a century doesn’t mean I’ve kept a pure mind too.
Quite the contrary.
My brain has run wild. My imagination has frolicked in Naughtyville thousands of times, and though the details—the catalyst and the location—varied, one aspect was nearly always the same.
Graham.
Him over me, him inside me, him being my first.
That’s what I’ve wanted most of all.
A rush of anticipation fills my body as he climbs over me, but then anxiety rises up, pulling at me, tightening in my belly. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, and my heart jams in my throat, but as I look up at his handsome face, I know it isn’t having sex for the first time that’s making me nervous.
What scares me is that I’m already failing at the lesson I tried to teach myself this afternoon.
My heart isn’t in another room.
I’m here, all in, heart, body, and mind.
It’s wildly exciting and completely terrifying. But how can I even consider turning back when this is everything I’ve dreamt of and so much more?
I reach my arms around his neck, pull him even closer, and press my lips to his, kissing away my fears. “I’m so ready,” I whisper.
“I like the so.” He positions himself, rubs the head of his erection against me, and I gasp. A pulse beats between my legs, where I’m wet, ridiculously wet.
Relax. I spread my legs wider, letting my knees fall open, inviting him in.
He pushes the tip inside. “Okay?” he pants.