The champagne I’m sipping goes up my nose as a very unladylike snort escapes me. I begin to cough as I choke on the champagne.
Zane begins laughing a full belly laugh again. It feels like every eye in the restaurant is on us. But soon I join him because it’s kind of infectious. It’s really nice that he doesn’t worry about the surroundings and is unapologetically himself. And he really doesn’t go out of his way to make me feel comfortable or less embarrassed about what happened. But somehow, he does anyway.
And if that’s not confusing, I don’t know what is.
The rest of our meal is relaxed and enjoyable. He takes me to a club to dance afterwards. Around one in the morning, he’s walking me back up to my apartment. “Thank you, Zane,” I tell him when we get to the door. “I had a good time.”
“Even though you tried hard not to,” he says giving me a knowing look.
“Which obviously didn’t work,” I admit. He shakes his head with a chuckle.
“Go out with me tomorrow night.” It’s not a demand, but it’s not a question either. It's just his way.
“Zane,” my tone dips showing my discomfort. “I -.”
His lips are on mine before I can form a complete thought. Before I can argue any further, he has me pressed against the door. He winds his hands into my hair as his tongue invades my mouth. I try to fight, but it’s hopeless. This pull I feel toward him is too much to resist when his mouth is on mine.
My hands that I put against his chest to push him away are gripping him trying to pull him closer. I want to bury myself inside of him. I want him buried inside of me. It’s evident by the heat flooding my core and the throbbing I feel.
I am just about to drag him into my apartment, straight to my bed, when he pulls away leaving me flushed and wanting.
“Tomorrow, Tori,” he tells me as he walks away leaving me standing there with a gaping mouth and unfulfilled needs.
Zane
Laughter fills the conference room as we sit and wait on everyone else to make an appearance. “This makes the third time you’ve been up there, and you still haven’t fucked her?” Jax chortles.
I just got back from New York this morning after another extended trip. I lean back in the plush chair around the massive, glass conference table with my fingers laced behind my head. A slow grin spreads my face. “Nope,” I pop, “and every time I walk away, she’s panting harder than the last time.”
“You’ve got a lot more self-control than I ever thought you did. Don’t understand why you want to make her beg though.”
“I don’t want her to beg,” I say because it’s true. I don’t want Tori to beg me for anything. I want her to know it’s already hers if she will just fucking take it. “I just want her to admit that she wants me instead of fighting it. To admit there is something there and take a fucking chance. I don’t know what the hell she’s scared of.”
Jax laughs again as he tries to stretch his long ass legs under the table. He joins me looking at the ceiling as we both consider what I’ve told him. “Maybe the idea of commitment just freaks her the fuck out,” he suggests.
Bastian and Rory stroll into the conference room. Rory looks strangely calm. No. He looks warm and friendly. I’m still having a hard damn time getting use to his face looking anything but stony and icelike. Bastian, on the other hand, looks bored and like his head is somewhere else. If I had to guess, it’s back at his loft across the river with a certain curly haired blonde that has turned him inside out.
“Ask him,” Jax says jerking his head toward Bastian.
“Ask who what?” Rory says as he takes a seat beside Jax.
“Ask Bastian what fear of commitment looks like,” Jax says with cocky grin.
Bastian growls beside me, and I have to work not to laugh. “I don’t have a fear of commitment,” he grumbles. “I’ve been committed to you three assholes for a while now. Among other things.”
“What else have you committed to?” Rory asks incredulously as he begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Business,” Bastian says with a look daring anyone to disagree.
“Bastian,” Jax chuckles, “that’s not exactly a hard commitment for you. We’re talking about committing to a woman.”
Another growl slips his throat. Bastian is already in a bit of a struggle right now because of Verity. She stumbled in and knocked the asshole for a loop. He can fight it all he wants but what he feels for Verity is written all over his face. “What about him?” he finally counters with a jerk of his head in my direction.
“I’ve never been afraid to commit. Just haven’t found anyone worth the effort.”
“Until now,” Jax adds.
Rory and Bastian both turn their eyes to me. Curiosity and questions fill them as they wait for me to elaborate. Then, before I can, realization comes into both their eyes. “The girl from New York?” Rory asks me with a look very similar to mischief in his eyes. It fucking unnerves the hell outta me. Rory McCabe doesn’t get looks like that.
