Moments of contact so brief they barely counted as touches, but so potent they wreaked havoc on my body. My entire right side tingled from his proximity, and awareness pulsed to life in my veins.
We were on a New York rooftop in late October, and I was burning up. It wasn’t because of the heat lamps or the blankets; it was because of him.
“I’m surprised you scheduled this for Halloween.” I made conversation simply to divert attention away from the rapid patter of my heartbeat. Get a hold of yourself, for Christ’s sake. “There are dozens of parties tonight.”
“Those are boring. This isn’t.”
“You would rather watch a rom-com about a witch and a plumber falling in love than attend a costume party with celebrities?”
“One hundred percent. As long as I’m watching it with you.” His answer came out so casually, it took a second to register. Once it did, the patter morphed into a full-blown marching band, drums and all.
Damn him.
Tonight was supposed to be an obligatory date. I wasn’t supposed to like it this much.
You know you have to actually give him a chance, right?
Vivian’s gentle reminder from our happy hour yesterday floated through my mind. Don’t go through the motions waiting for the trial period to expire. It won’t be fair to either of you.
I hated when other people were right.
“What about you?” Xavier asked. “No Halloween plans with the girls?”
“No. They’re with their families.” A small pang hit my gut. “Vivian and Dante took Josie to this Halloween thing at the zoo. Kai and Isa have a Mode de Vie event, and Dominic and Alessandra are at Valhalla’s fall gala.” Kai and Isabella technically weren’t married yet, but they might as well be.
I was the odd one out. I didn’t mind it; I would rather be single and content than in a relationship and miserable. But there were slivers of time when I wondered how it would feel to exist in the world knowing there was someone who loved me totally, unconditionally, and whole-heartedly for who I was instead of who they wanted me to be.
“Speaking of Dante, did you figure out why he’s on the inheritance committee?” I asked, eager to think about something—anything—else.
“No, I haven’t spoken to him yet. I’ve been focusing on next week’s meetings.” Xavier’s leg brushed mine again, and there was that stupid zing again. He glanced at me, the moving images onscreen throwing his features into light, then shadow, then light again. “He did a lot of business with my father, so I assume that’s part of the reason.”
“Maybe. I can ask Vivian—”
“Luna.” He gently hooked his pinky around mine beneath the blanket, and my knowledge of how to breathe evaporated. “This is a date. No more work talk.”
“Right.” In and out. You know how to do this. “Are you ever going to tell me why you call me Luna?”
“One day.” His dimples winked into view. “If you’re really nice to me.”
I tamped down a smile. “I’m nice to you right now.” “You forgot a word.”
“Really nice. What does that entail, a blow job?”
My quip trailed off when I realized my mistake. Discussing blow jobs with Xavier? Bad idea.
Abort, abort! Alarm bells clanged in my head, but it was too late.
Something intense swallowed the humor in his eyes, and my already-scarce supply of oxygen dwindled to emergency levels.
Neither of us was paying attention to the movie at this point. Unfortunately, that meant all my attention had rerouted to 1) the delicious warmth of Xavier’s body, which had inched close enough to short-circuit my brain, and 2) a salacious mental gallery of images that revolved around me, him, and a certain activity with the initials BJ.
My blood sang with sudden heat.
“Perhaps, but not tonight.” His silky murmur ghosted down my spine. “I don’t pass first base on the first date. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re telling me you’ve never done more than kiss someone on the first date.” It wasn’t a question, but the voice that delivered it was so breathless, I didn’t recognize it as mine.
“I have, but that was years ago, we weren’t dating, and I wasn’t trying to woo them.”
Another type of warmth, one that had nothing to do with arousal, pooled in my stomach. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Woo me?”
“Depends.” A smile played on his lips. “Is it working?”
Yes. “No.”
“Liar.”
“A suitor shouldn’t call the object of his wooing a liar. It’s poor etiquette.”
“I’m honest when the situation calls for it, and you’d die of boredom if someone simply agreed with everything you said and did.” His pinky, still hooked around mine, curled just a bit tighter. I wished I minded.
“You think you know me so well,” I whispered, even though he was right.
“Only parts of you.” The gentle brush of his thumb against my hand unlocked a colony of butterflies in my stomach. “But we’ll get there.”
The implication that we would last until that point sent my defenses into overdrive, but the evening was so nice, and his touch felt so good, I ignored it.
It was only when the witch movie ended and the Christmas one began that I realized I’d watched a rom-com without writing a review for the first time in five years.
