“Oh,fishing for compliments, huh?”
“I’ma little self-conscious right now,” I reasoned, reaching up to touch my hairand everything that was missing. “You’ve gotta stroke my ego a little bitbefore I face my friends. They have no idea I did this.”
“Okay,”she conceded, her voice conditioning and soothing as she slid her fingers betweenthe lapels of my jacket and down over my stomach. “Well, it makes your jawlinelook really good.” Her head tilted, pressing her lips to the complimentedregion. “And your neck …” Her fingers slid lower, resting over my groin as hermouth moved to my throat.
Igroaned, closing my eyes to the wetness of her tongue and the gentle rubbing ofher hand. “For the record, I wasn’t suggesting that youliterallystrokemy ego.”
“ShouldI stop then?” Her question was muffled against my neck, her fingers stopping tounzip my fly.
Ishook my head. “Fuck no.”
***
I’dsay I’ve been a very lucky man.
Mycareer took off at an early age. I made a good, honest living doing what I lovemost. I’ve played with some incredibly talented people, made a lot of friends,and fucked a lot of amazing women. I’ve seen the world and everything inbetween.
Ithought there wasn’t anything more I could see that could impress me. But, inthe backseat of the limo, on our way to the restaurant, I watched Tabby reapplyher deep-red lipstick, and all of those things I’d seen—the Grand Canyon, theNorthern Lights, Stonehenge, the pyramids … Suddenly, they didn’t matter. Theypaled in comparison, mere postcard prints in my memory, someone else’s photoalbum, and this …
Thiswas what it was like to be in awe.
“Thatwas probably the dirtiest thing I’veeverdone,” she confessed, glancingat me before coating her bottom lip.
“Oh,come on. People have donewaydirtier things in the back of limos,” I teased,unable to take my eyes from her lips. Her warm, wet mouth.
“Peoplemeaning you?” she asked, accusing and smiling, as she capped her lipstick andstuffed it in her bag.
Withan embarrassed smirk, I tipped my head toward her. “I don’t want to talk aboutthat shit tonight, okay?” My voice was gruff and sincere.
“Whynot? You never have a problem talking.”
“Yeah,but talking about it also requires thinking about it,” I explained, reaching toher lap and threading my fingers between hers, “and the only woman I want tothink about right now is you.”
Theonly woman Ieverwant to think about … is you.
Shelifted her eyes to mine. The limo slowed to a halt, the city lights reflectedin the emerald greens, and she shook her head in what could’ve been a protest.
“Sebastian,I need to tell—”
“Excuseme, sir,” the driver spoke through the intercom. “We’ve arrived.”
“Awesome,”I replied, and he got out of the car to open our door.
Igot out first, then held my hand out to Tabby, helping her from the car andonto the sidewalk. I slipped the driver a fifty and wished him a good night,and Tabby asked if he was meeting us later, after dinner.
“Nah,we’re not going back to my house tonight,” I told her, waggling my brows andleading her inside and to the elevator.
***
“Ho-lyshit,” Devin uttered in awe.
Hestood from the table the moment he spotted us approaching. I towed Tabby alongwith me to greet him, but the minute I was within hugging distance, I releasedher and threw my arms around my friend. I clapped his back and realized all atonce just how much I’d missed him in the months we’d been apart.
Kyliewas standing behind him, her purple hair hanging in loose tendrils, framing herface. I let go of Devin, pushing him aside, and spread my arms. “Get the hellover here, Ky.”
“Youcan’t demand hugs and not tell me what the hell you did to your hair,” she demanded,pointing at my head. “Babe, did you even notice what hedid? What thefuck!”
Devin’shands were in my hair immediately, messing it all up as he shook his head. “Whathappened, man? You become a dad and so you get a dad haircut?”
