A sensual light comes to Claire’s eyes at my comment and only confirms what I saw the two brief times before—she is attracted to me too. I take a step closer, and Claire does not step back. “Why are you doing this?” she asks in a whisper, and I take another step.
“I can't stop thinking about you,” I respond feeling a heat starting to fill my body. Whatever her reason for telling me no before appears to be gone, because I see her breath is coming quicker. The chemistry in the air is thick, and I take the final step that brings us an inch from each other. “I want to know you.”
“I want to know you too,” she says so quietly I almost cannot hear it. The multiple meanings hang between us, and I barely restrain myself from kissing her. “But I can't.” Now, she does back away until her body is against the unopened car door. She is, in a way trapped, and I cannot contain my need to touch her.
I reach out my hand, and I run my thumb over her cheek. The contact is electric, and I suck in a breath. She gasps in response, and as she leans into my caress, I must kiss her or explode. As if knowing my intention, Claire turns her face toward mine, and our lips meet. The feel of her mouth is exquisite, and although I try to hold back, I cannot. I crush against her, grasping her hips and pulling her hard against my body. Her moan is my reward as she runs her hands up my arms to take ahold of my shoulders to return the kiss. The primal sexual want inside me rages to life, like nothing I remember feeling before. My need for her makes me tremble, and I ravage her mouth with mine claiming it with my tongue.
Suddenly, her hands are in my short brown hair pulling me toward her, opening her mouth for me to kiss her deeper. She wants me too. As my lips are relentless against hers, I lower a hand from her hip to slide down to the hem of the skirt of her waitress uniform. Slipping my hand under, my palm grazes her bare thigh, and she gasps breaking the kiss.
“Oh my God,” she moans. “What are you doing to me?”
I cannot help but smile, knowing she is as turned on as I am. I let my hand continue, traveling over her burning flesh, feeling her tremble, until I touch her lace panties with my fingertips. Moving my thumb in a slow circle, I brush the mound of her lips at the center of her legs. She is wet through the fabric, and a little cry of surprise and excitement comes from her. “Please,” she gasps. “We can't. Not here.”
I could never be more ready to take her away with me, to make love to her until she is limp and thoroughly spent in my arms. So well fucked she feels me and where I have been in the morning. Suddenly, I realize my mistake. I want her to come home with me but doing so will give me away too early. The penthouse at the International Towers might be a bit of a tipoff that I am not your average woman. Shocked at my own stupidity, I cannot believe I have not thought to prepare for something like this. Especially considering it would have taken nothing but a phone call to put into motion. A small, simple apartment somewhere nearby perhaps, but not a hotel. Taking her to a cheap room somewhere won’t do. Our first time will be hot, and no doubt fast as I can barely contain myself even now, but I want it to be something she remembers over the years as special.
Improvising, I kiss her as gently as I can stand while my body threatens to overwhelm my thinking. “Let me come home with you,” I whisper against her lips. I mean for the words to be a request, but I know they sound like an order. I can’t help it. The need to strip her naked and be inside her is so strong I barely contain it. There is a war raging inside her, I feel it under my hands, but I don't understand it. She wants me. Her body tells me in every possible way, and yet she hesitates to obey. Then, a thought manages to penetrate the fever of my brain.
“Are you nervous because I’m a woman?” I ask licking my lips at the idea of being her first. “I promise to go as slow as you need.”
She gives a small shake of her head. “No,” she starts but then pauses seeming a little confused. “I mean yes, I’ve never been with a woman, but that is not…” Again, a pause, and as I watch her beautiful mouth, she bites her lip. My hand, still between her legs, twitches at the sight, and she moans again. “Wait,” she begs. “I want you even though I don't know you. God, so much I’m dizzy.” I can't let that go, and I stroke her with my thumb again. In response, she puts her head back, and I feel her hips move against my hand. “You make me feel alive.”
“Then take me home with you,” I repeat continuing to slowly stroke her through her wet panties. In response, she moves with me, and I know it will take almost nothing to make her come. I kiss her neck and feel her heart pulsing through her skin. She moans at the caress. Between nips with my teeth on her skin, I restate my demand. “Take. Me. Home. With. You.”
Claire starts to nod, and I know she is close to succumbing to what I want when the unthinkable happens. The backdoor of the diner opens with a bang.
7
Hearing the sudden noise of the door, I step back, pulling away my hand, and giving her enough space to straighten her uniform. I know we are blocked from immediate view by the cars around us, but regardless, I will never embarrass a woman. Especially Claire. She already means too much to me. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and I'm not sure what she is thanking me for exactly. The kisses? The touches? Or for merely giving her room to recover? Before I ask, she looks over my shoulder and spies the unwelcome visitor. Her face pales. I turn to look and see a man walking toward us. From the sight of him and his clothing, he is not someone I would think frequents the diner, which means he is here to find Claire. To make it worse, he grins wide when realizing we spotted him. His dark eyes travel over us, and I dislike him entirely.
Even if he did not interrupt Claire and me in a moment so hot, I was about to combust, I wouldn’t have liked him. I’ve dealt with his kind before. Slick is the word I use to describe men of his nature. In fact, his look is such a stereotype, I'd laugh if not so irritated by his lousy timing. Jet black hair smoothed away from his forehead. Designer jeans, expensive boots, and a black silk shirt unbuttoned two buttons too far. All he lacks are a couple gold chains to fit the look. Nothing but a two-bit punk who wants to appear to have money and influence, but in fact really has none.
“Hi there,” he says when he is only a few feet away. “Am I interrupting?” I narrow my eyes thinking of the best way to get rid of him when Claire surprises me by laughing. The sound is nervous and clearly fake, but she makes her best effort.
“No, Johnny,” she answers him. “We are just talking. She helped with a customer earlier.”
Johnny nods, as his grin fades to a smirk. Any second now I am going to punch ‘Johnny’ in his weaselly little face. “Sure,” he agrees, but the insinuation is still in his tone. “Thank her however you want. Just don’t be late tonight.”
“Tonight?” I ask not liking the idea she is affiliated with anything this scum has to offer. His dark eyes flick to me, and for a moment, I think he recognizes me. This is the very last thing I want, but nothing on earth would make me drop his stare. If the truth comes out, so be it. I will deal with the fallout after the man leaves. Luckily, that is not necessary. After a beat, he shrugs as if he can’t place me and looks back at Claire.