Chapter Ten

 

Wade greeted the pretty hostess who took them straight to what he considered to be the best seat in the place, a table near the front window, already set with a bottle of what he’d been assured was expensive California Cabernet for her and a cold Shiner Bock for him. He pulled out the simple, ladder-backed chair for Sam, then settled himself across from her and tried to sip the beer. But his hand was shaking too much, so he set it down and leaned back, attempting to regain his composure.

This was way too weird. Exactly like he’d been afraid it would be. This woman was messing with him somehow, and he didn’t like it, but at the same time, couldn’t resist it.

She did look good enough to eat. He blinked at that thought, willing it gone so he could stifle the urge to drag her out of there, take her home and do that. Her curves were perfectly enhanced by the silky fall of the dress. The long line of her tanned neck made his mouth water every time he looked at her. Her huge blue eyes and high cheekbones were mostly makeup free, as he preferred, and whatever perfume she’d chosen must be combining with her own natural pheromones in such a way that he had to bite the inside of his cheek and sit on his hands to keep from yanking her across the table and kissing her.

With a long sigh, he picked up the beer again and watched as the older woman server struggled with the wine cork. “Here, I can do it,” Sam said, her smile genuine, her voice soft. She finagled the thing open and poured herself a glass, then held it up. “To first dates,” she said, her eyes shining.

“Yeah,” he grunted like an idiot, unable to find anything more useful to say, considering he was struck dumb by her perfection. He sipped, keeping his gaze on her full lips as she put them to the glass and did the same.

She put the glass down and touched the paper napkin to her mouth. Another fight seemed to break out in the bar area, and she glanced over at it, then back at him. “Nice place,” she said, unable to keep from smiling.

“What it lacks in ambiance it more than makes up with food quality,” he assured her as he knocked back the beer. Another one appeared. “So,” he said, desperate for something to say that wasn’t the words burning the back of his throat—words to the effect of I want to make love to you for hours, sleep with you in my arms, then wake up and do it all over again. “About my house.”

“Yes,” she said, taking another sip of the wine. “About that.” She propped her elbows on the table, which had the effect of pressing her tits closer together and giving him an eye-popping deeper view of her cleavage. He tried not to gulp. “Why are you selling it, Wade? It’s a beautiful place.”

“Oh, uh,” he mumbled around the beer bottle. “It’s not mine, really. It was all my ex-wife’s doing. I’ve been too lazy since she dumped me to do anything about the place until now. I want it gone, along with her, if you know what I mean.”

She tilted her head, tempting him all over again with that beautiful neck. He could already taste her skin there. As Wade tried like hell not to allow the half boner he’d been sporting since he’d turned around to see her in the elevator to spring to full life, he opened his mouth. But before he could speak, two salads were plunked in front of them without ceremony. They ate, saying little. But the air between them wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, as if they’d been on a thousand dates before and could sit and eat in silence.

“No menu,” she observed, pressing her napkin to her lips again.

“Nah, I ordered ahead.”

“How do you know what sort of cut I like? Or how I want it cooked?” Her blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

“I guessed,” he admitted, smiling up at the woman who took their salad plates away. “So, can you sell my house or what, hotshot real estate lady?”

She settled back in her seat and seemed to study him a few seconds. “Of course I can,” she said. He refilled her wine glass, and she sipped. “Tell me something about you, Wade. Something that might surprise me.”

He choked when his beer went down the wrong way at her words. Nervous all of a sudden, like some virginal teenager hoping to get his cherry popped after prom, he swiped a hand across his lips and cast around for the right response.

“I like to be in control,” he said, deciding to jump right in with both feet. “In all situations.”

She tilted her head—the damn woman was gonna make him come in his jeans if she kept doing that. He tightened his grip on the beer bottle and went on. “If I can’t be in control, it makes me unhappy. But you . . .” He looked down at the huge steak that had just been set in front of him. Ignoring it, he met her gaze again. “You are doing something else to me, Sam. When you did . . . what you did at the barbecue, I, uh . . . I don’t usually like that. I mean. I liked it but . . . oh hell, never mind.”

She kept staring at him. He could almost see the lust quivering in the air around her, like heat waves on asphalt. He had to consciously stop himself from grunting in pain when his cock got serious behind his zipper. They glared at each other a few seconds across the small table. Then she picked up her fork and knife.

“I love filet,” she said, her voice soft. “Thank you.”

She cut into the expensive slab of cow flesh, put the bite in her mouth and chewed, closing her eyes in enjoyment. Frozen in place by the sight, he watched her do it again until something compelled him to reach across the table, take her utensils from her and cut into her filet himself. He put the perfectly seared morsel to her lips. She frowned at him, then opened her mouth and took the bite from his fork.

Wade thought he might die on the spot. But he kept feeding her in silence until nothing was left on her plate but a few green beans.

“I think I understand what you mean,” she finally said, taking a sip of her wine. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“I’m not hungry anymore. Not for steak, anyway.”

She shivered. He smiled. “So, about this control,” she said, putting her glass down with a telltale clink. “Tell me more.”

He leaned back, equally rattled and hornier than he’d been in his entire life. “I have a better idea,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Let’s dance.”

A band had taken the stage at the far end of the large space and was calling participants out onto the dance floor. She blinked, and then took his hand, her lovely face flushed red. He pulled her close and loved how she molded against him as if they’d been together forever. “I’ll show you what I mean later, I promise,” he said, allowing himself a quick nip of her earlobe, trying not to groan at the exquisite press of her breasts against his chest. “But first, you have to prove that you’ve fully assimilated to Texas and line dance with me.” He pulled away with extreme reluctance.

With a wry smile, she took his hand and let him lead her into the mass of humanity now crowding the dance floor. To his surprise, she did indeed know how to line dance and frankly, watching her move did very little to allay his painful hard-on.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, he grabbed her and yanked her close, forcing the dancers to eddy around them like a creek bed disturbed by a rock. At that moment, nothing existed in Wade’s universe but Samantha Jean Weaver. His entire being ached with longing and satisfaction at the same time as he tilted her chin so she met his gaze. “You’re pretty damn amazing, Sam,” he managed, Mr. Super Cool Conversationalist as always.

Her smile lit up his world. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Please. I can’t stand it another minute.”

He obliged her, diving deep into her until the wolf-whistles and cat-calls penetrated his consciousness and he broke away and took her hand. As they passed the hostess stand at almost a run, she held out a brown bag. He grabbed it, then opened the door for her, as the hot Dallas night air wrapped around them.

 

**

 

Sam stopped, turned around, and leaned against the SUV door before Wade could open it. The best way to describe how she felt was starving. Sam required more of him—more of his lips on hers, of his hands on her body—like she required the nutritional energy of the steak she’d consumed. She yanked him forward by the front of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck, loving it when he groaned low in his throat and lowered his lips to hers again.

Finally, she broke away, breathless, unable to resist the compulsion to put her palm against the erection straining his jeans. He smiled and put his hands on either side of her head against the car window, pressing his forehead to hers as she stroked.

“So, about this control thing,” she whispered, putting her other hand alongside his cheek, dying to know more. She’d read a few of Skye’s sexier romance novels that had described some of that stuff. At the time, she’d scoffed, thinking no strong woman in her right mind would ever allow such a thing.

But now, she wanted it. She wanted to surrender everything she had to the man pressing her against his car door right then. “Take me home and show me,” she whispered, taking his earlobe between her teeth.

“You sure?” he asked, taking both of her hands and pressing them against the door behind her. “Because I can only take control if you relinquish it.” His dark eyes mesmerized her. She nodded. “Okay,” he said, letting her hands go and grabbing her ass, pressing her against him once more. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth like he’d done the day before.

“Jesus, I think you just made me come,” she gasped when he let her go.

He chuckled. “Merely a preview, lovely lady. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He opened her door and handed her up into the seat, lingering a moment to stare into her eyes. His warm hand started at her foot, passed up her ankle, her calf, then slid between her thighs. She shut her eyes and let him slide a finger alongside her now soaking wet panties.

“Mmm hmm,” he muttered, planting soft kisses along her neck as he teased her flesh, making her part her legs in the car, right in the parking lot. “Here’s the deal, Sam,” he whispered as he stroked her clit. “You only come when I say so, got it?” She nodded, grabbing his arm and angling her hips, needing more. But he stopped and withdrew his hand, putting his fingers to his lips. “Just a taste,” he said. “You have a lot to learn.”

She was gasping, her body on the verge of release, quivering with the lack of it. Sweat rolled between her breasts. Her thighs were soaking wet as she pressed them together and tried to focus. “I want to learn,” she said, reaching for him. “Teach me.”

He moved out of her reach, his lips curled up in a smile that she’d come to associate later with a true turning point in her life. “I think we can teach each other,” he said. “And for me to admit that is something, I assure you.” He pressed his fingers to her lips. She smelled herself, her sex, her need, on them.

“Take me home, Wade,” she said.

He slammed the door by way of response.