That Night

by Lynn, K. I.

  He cleared his throat and stepped back, the air noticeably thick between us. The heaviness was something I hadn’t felt in ages, and it was off to experience it with a man I’d first seen not more than fifteen minutes ago.

  I turned to the mirror to look at my dress, a darker silver replacing the red and even that was beginning to fade. “Wow, neat trick. I’ll have to remember that. I’m always feeding my shirt at lunch.”

  “And all wiping at it does is spread it everywhere.”

  “So true.” There was an ease that I wasn’t expecting, a calm, like I’d known him for years. “Thank you for your help, Richard.”

  “Anytime,” he said, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “Thank you for not slapping me.”

  “I almost did, and you never know. The night is still young.” I reached out and swatted at his ass, which was deliciously muscular.

  “I amend my statement—thank you for not slapping my face. You are welcome to slap my ass as much as you want.”

  “Masochist.”

  He took my hands and placed them on his chest. “I’m a masochist for wanting your hands on my body?”

  I drew in a shaky breath. There was a definite current passing between us that wanted more. “Wow, we should get back out there before I do something I have never done before and will probably regret in the morning.”

  “You’re right. We should remain chaste and pure and not give in to these lustful thoughts.” He held the door open and ushered me through. The music wasn’t as intense in the hallway as the main room, so we stayed back.

  “Who said they were lustful?” I asked. It had been a while since I’d flirted with a guy, let alone one that gave as good as he got.

  “I assumed that ‘something’ you were thinking of was my same ‘something’ I was thinking and that, while I probably wouldn’t regret it in the morning, there is a fair chance I’ll want more.”

  I quirked a brow at him. “More than a night? We just met.”

  “A phone number at the very least.”

  I pursed my lips at him, though I was pretty sure I would give him my number. “Hmm, let’s see how the night goes.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be my dance partner for the evening?” he asked and held out his hand.

  I slipped mine in his and let out a gasp at the current that passed between us. “Oh, I feel like we’re at some high school formal now. All I need is a corsage, booze pilfered from my parents’ lacking at-home bar, and awkward teenage sex, and the night is complete.”

  The crease reappeared in his brow. “I’d like to think my performance has improved since prom.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no basis for a comparison other than my own experiences and—” I drew a breath in through my teeth “—there are no lost world wonders there.”

  He leaned his shoulder against one of the massive columns. “I can’t tell if the bar is really low or if your expectations are extremely high.”

  “Can you make a woman come?” I asked with a quirk of my brow.

  “It’s been a while, but the deed would have my full attention.” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips.

  I mimicked his stance, leaning against the wide base, facing him. “That’s enough to be a consideration. How long is a while?”

  “How long is a while to you?” he countered.

  “I had three dates with a guy around Valentine’s Day, hoping to have some great love connection and not be alone on the biggest love-fest day of the year, but the sex put the nail in that coffin real quick.”

  “That bad?”

  “I’m not sure he ever progressed past prom sex. Plus he barely had it in before he was coming.”

  “That is bad.”

  I twirled my hand in the air. “Hence my dry spell. Why do I need a guy when my vibe does a better job than any man ever has?”

  That perfect grin appeared again. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Well, I know you have zero hesitation about shoving your hands into my clothes. Assertiveness is sexy.” It was possibly the strangest first conversation I’d ever had with anyone, but I went with it simply because it flowed so well and he never approached or said anything in a sleazy manner.

  “I wish my employees thought that. Then again, they’re probably praying I get laid.”

  Our exchange had twisted, and I wanted an answer to my question before we veered off course. “So, how long was that while?”

  His eyes were locked with mine, unfaltering as his lips ticked. “Two years.”

  My mouth dropped open. “No.”

  He held his hands up and pursed his lips. “I’m married to my job. Trust me, it’s not for lack of desire or performance ability.”

  “That’s a turnoff.” I straightened and slipped my arms around his arm to pull us away. “Back to the people and the booze that hopefully will not end up on my dress again.”

  He held firm, causing me to turn and look at him. “Wait, what was a turnoff?”

  “Married to your job.”

  “And why is that?”

  I tilted my head to look at him, actually believing the two years and quite possibly a lack of women in his life, period. “Because my female brain is already releasing chemicals, making me think of you as more than a night.”

  “Chemicals?”

  “Hormones, whatever.” I waved my hand in front of me. “There’s this attraction physically, and our banter is on point, making me like your personality more and more with each minute. That then transitions into wondering what happens after tonight. Will this be all? Because as is, I am already interested in getting to know you, which has me thinking about a future with you, because I’m not one of those live-in-the-moment types,” I explained.

  “I’m not either.”

  “Then you said that, and a bucket of cold water rushed over me because those thoughts of something more were extinguished as soon as I understood there would be no room for anything more in your world than tonight.”

  He stared into my eyes, unblinking. “You are so interesting.”

  My brow scrunched and I glared at him. “I hate that word.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it can go so many ways.” Both good and bad, and I never knew how it was meant.

  “I thought the inflection of my voice would be a giveaway that it was a good interesting. I’m quite in awe of you. And to clarify—I’m married to my job because I don’t have anyone in my life. There is nothing but loneliness when I walk into my house.”

  The last sentence hit way too close to home, but at least I had Jenna. “Friends?”

  He shrugged. “They all have families or live far away.”

  “No kids for you?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Hmm.” I stared out the window at the lake, watching as a party boat set off from the pier. On board was a mirror image to what was happening inside the ballroom where we stood.

  “Now what’s going on in that interesting brain of yours?” he asked with a tug on my hand.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve known you for less than an hour, and I already know it’s not nothing.”

  The man was observant, driven, witty, courteous, and sexy as fuck. And that was just what I’d picked up in a short time. “Another tick in the you-are-too-good-to-be-true column. Are you a serial killer?”

  He threw his head back in laughter. “I do have flaws. Thankfully not of the serial killer variety.”

  I narrowed my gaze on him. “Hmm, I’m not so sure you have any so-called flaws.”

  “You know nothing about me,” he pointed out.

  That was a challenge if I’d ever heard one. Time to test him and his interest level while showing just how observant I was.

  “You’re a workaholic who probably orders food in every day or has one of those meal delivery box services. Some big condo that overlooks the lake, devoid of personality or comfort. Your employees dislike and respect you at the same time.
”

  “How did you know I live in Chicago, let alone have a condo that overlooks the lake? Are you stalking me?” His expression was a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

  A laugh left me. “I don’t even know your last name, so that’s a no. And a man who is married to his job isn’t going to go on a road trip for a New Year’s Eve party. You’ll probably sleep in tomorrow and then work from home in the afternoon while downing coffee like it’s life.”

  Suspicion and curiosity were quickly replaced with awe. “If we hadn’t met by absolute chance, I would be seriously freaked out by how accurate you are.”

  I gave him a shrug and a smirk. “It’s a gift.”

  “All I’ve gotten is that you are beautiful and sexy and quite possibly the most perceptive person I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s it?”

  “And you can hold your own in possibly any conversation or situation. But I’d like to know more than that, and more than how fucking fantastic sex would be with you.”

  “You think it would be that good?” I asked, though I had the same feeling.

  “Don’t you?”

  I tugged on his hand. “Let’s go dance and find out.”

  We stopped at one of the thirty bars located around the party on our way back to the area where we’d left Jenna. Richard replaced my drink while getting himself a beer. I took a few quick sips before we moved through the crowd.

  Bodies gyrated everywhere, the crowd at max energy. It took some weaving until I located Jenna’s familiar form dancing with a couple of people not far from where we left her.

  “Keenan,” Richard called out.

  A very handsome black man with a megawatt smile turned at the sound, but didn’t stop dancing with Jenna.

  “What happened, man?” he asked, glancing over to me.

  “Wardrobe malfunction.”

  “And you were being a gentleman helping the lady out?” He gave me a wink.

  “He was a perfect gentleman.” It wasn’t a lie. While our conversation had been full of innuendos and highly sexually charged banter, physically his focus was on helping me and making certain I was okay.

  “All good?” Jenna asked, giving Richard an appraising once-over before mouthing to me, “He’s hot.”

  I mouthed back, “I know,” before Richard caught my attention again.

  “Natasha, this is my friend Keenan. Keenan, Natasha.”

  Keenan held out his hand, that megawatt smile still covering his face. “Nice to meet you.”

  I slipped my hand in his. “Same.”

  “So you do have friends,” I said to Richard.

  He chuckled. “A few.”

  Jenna whipped around to me when a remix of “Heathens” came on, and immediately we began belting out the lyrics and jumping to the beat. Richard and Keenan eventually joined in, both showing off some skillful moves, especially Keenan.

  The DJ was good, keeping the energy in the room up, mixing familiar songs with electric beats. Each song rolled effortlessly into the next, and we never stopped. The lights zipped across the crowd in brilliant colors, refracting off any shiny surface.

  Smiles lit up every face as everyone let go, if only for a few hours.

  Turning to Richard, I smiled and locked eyes with him as I tipped my cup back and gulped down the last of my vodka and cranberry.

  “We have some catching up to do.”

  He nodded his head, then followed suit. “Another?” he asked once his cup was empty. I nodded, and he looked to Jenna. “Refill?”

  Her eyes went wide and she nodded. “Thank you!”

  “I’ll help,” Keenan said and they stepped away, leaving us to stay lost in the beat.

  “There are major sparks going on between you two,” Jenna said as she fanned herself.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “Did you fuck in the bathroom?” she asked.

  My mouth popped open. “What? No!”

  She shrugged. “You were gone so long, I figured that’s what was going on.”

  “Minutes after literally bumping into me?”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “I would have.”

  “I don’t know what is going on,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “We’ve had this instant connection. I feel like I’ve known him for years, not to mention the sexual chemistry, which is…wow.”

  She bounced with excitement. “You have my permission to go get it, girl. I am good.”

  Jenna was a social butterfly so I had no doubt about that, but I wasn’t sure I could do it.

  Richard and Keenan returned, drinks in hand, and passed them out.

  “Do I need to test this?” Jenna asked, and both men stared at her in confusion. “You know, for drugs?” Both men’s eyes widened as they adamantly shook their heads in protest. “Good. Thank you.”

  Richard leaned in. “What is she talking about?”

  I reached into my wristlet and pulled out a key fob with a white disc. “Date rape drug tester.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know such a thing existed.”

  I nodded. “Yup. Jenna loves to go dancing, and she’s been slipped a few in the past. Luckily there was always someone she trusted close by to take care of her. As soon as they came on the market, she bought a ton and insisted I carry one around.”

  “That’s damn smart and a good thing to have.” He leaned in closer. “Just so you know, I would never do anything like that.”

  I bumped his shoulder with mine. “I think we both know you don’t need anything like that with me.”

  He bumped me back. “If I do, I’ve been reading this whole night wrong.”

  We went back to dancing, and at some point a group of people came up—people who obviously knew Richard and Keenan. Jenna and I paid no attention and continued to dance.

  When my third drink was empty and I was feeling tipsy, I leaned in toward Jenna.

  “I’m hungry!” I yelled to her. “Feed me, woman!”

  She continued to dance as she pointed to the wall where the buffet was set up.

  I glared at her. “You don’t love me.”

  A kissy face was all the response I got before she used the dance to conceal pointing behind me.

  Richard glanced at me from a group of guys he was talking to, a smile on his face.

  I used my first finger to point to my open mouth. Oddly, his eyes widened. After a few quick words, he stepped over to me.

  “You want to give me a blow job?” he asked.

  My eyes widened in horror. “No! Oh my God is that what…it’s the international ‘feed me’ symbol.”

  “And with our conversations tonight, I took it as ‘feed me your cock.’”

  I shook my head. “You have to deliver before that happens. It’s not all about you.”

  A chuckle left him, and he nodded. “Deal.”

  “I’m starving.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Let’s grab some plates and go upstairs.”

  I shook my head. “That’s VIP seating.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I stared at him, openmouthed. “You’ve got a table on the balcony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lead the way, Mr. VIP.”

  The buffet spread was huge, and I began to wonder why we hadn’t been before. I loaded my plate, Richard in step behind me.

  “Are you copying me?” I asked as he took the tongs from me.

  He glanced at my plate and chuckled at the matching items. “Not intentionally.”

  Some flatbreads, cheese, veggies, potatoes, meats, and dips filled both our plates as we made our way upstairs.

  Richard flashed his ticket, and the guard stepped aside to let us through. It was quite a walk around the balcony until he stopped at a four-topper and set our plates down. The view of the crowd was insane. Nothing but a mash of bodies in flashes of light in the dark. I was kind of happy to have the brief reprieve.

  My feet let out a groan of appreciation w
hen I sat, giving them the first bit of relief in hours.

  “Wow, these are great seats,” I said.

  “Keenan is to thank for that. It was his idea that we get a table.”

  “So, who is Keenan?” I asked with a laugh before crunching on a carrot stick.

  “A friend,” he said before taking a bite of one of the flatbreads.

  “Well, I gathered that.”

  He chuckled and finished chewing. “We met in college and both ended up in Chicago. What about Jenna?”

  “We met at my first job after college, became fast friends, and have been inseparable ever since.” I moved on to one of the flatbread pieces, pleasantly surprised by the pop of the unexpected combination of sweet and savory.

  “What do you do when you’re not bumping into strange men and having their hand down your dress in less than five minutes?”

  I threw my head back in laughter. “Total numbers nerd—I work in accounting.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Finance.”

  “You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “Another tick for Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-True.”

  He laughed while biting on one of the potatoes. “I’m a numbers nerd as well. I have an unhealthy relationship with spreadsheets.”

  My mouth popped open. “I love spreadsheets. Like, legit obsession. Spreadsheets are life.”

  He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you love pivot tables as much as I do?”

  A shudder rolled through me. “Stop talking nerdy to me. I already liked you before I found out about the nerdy side of your athlete-in-a-suit disguise.”

  “What?”

  I waved my hand in his direction. “Hide the muscles all you want, but that ass says differently,” I said with a wink.

  He shrugged. “I think best in the gym when my mind is occupied, and since I’ve already told you how I’m a lonely bastard, pretty much all of my free time is spent there.”

  “So you can peacock on these rare nights out?”

  He smirked and shook his head. “I was a high school football player, you got me there. Got a football scholarship to college and not halfway through my freshman year, I was injured. Keeping my strength up helps keep the pain away.”

  It was quite possibly the most serious thing said all evening, and damn if it didn’t endear me to him further. “What happened?”

  He finished his bite and wiped his mouth. “I intercepted a pass and was booking it toward the goal. I made it thirty yards before I was tackled by two players and we went down wrong. Broken leg, broken elbow.” He pointed to his right leg and left elbow. “End of a dream.”