The Trade(82)

“So crazy.” She sips her wine and says, “So any crazy fan stories you want to share?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, any girls a little too aggressive trying to get back up to your hotel room?”

“You know”—I study her for a second—“these are questions I’d never want to know about you. I wouldn’t want to think about you with someone else.”

“Well, that’s because I’ve only ever been with one other man.” She shrugs. “My stories are lame. Unless you consider giving Ansel a hand job in a Wendy’s parking lot, thrilling.”

“Yeah, think I’ll pass on the details of the Wendy’s hand job.”

“You sure? There’s a drive-in story attached to it and a free frosty.”

I hold up my hand. “Really, I’m good.”

“Fair enough.” She grows quiet for a second and then looks up at me through her lashes. “You know, what we did in St. Croix, I’m pretty sure that was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done, and we didn’t even . . . you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say through clenched teeth, thinking back to how amazing she felt up against me, riding my cock with a layer of fabric between us.

“You got me off multiple times and I haven’t even truly felt you, held you in my hand. How is that possible?”

“Trust me, Natalie, if you know what you’re doing as a guy, it’s very possible . . . as you experienced.”

“I guess so.” Her cheeks stain red and then she clears her throat, moving her fork around on her plate. Is she thinking what I’m thinking? The morning we left, her ass up in the air, my cock grinding unapologetically against her until we both came with a roar? Because I feel like I have that moment in my head on replay most of the time. “Are you thinking about when I rode you?” she asks, whispering now.

We’re seated at a faraway table, a very exclusive spot where no one can bother us. The rooftop is covered in heat lamps so even though we’re outside, enjoying the winter air of Chicago, it doesn’t feel like we’re outside from the fireplace in front of us, and the heat lamps above. It’s actually quite comfortable, but just in case she is cold, I offered her my jacket. She said maybe later she’ll take me up on my offer.

There isn’t another patron in sight, but it seems like Natalie is shy when it comes about actually voicing what she’s thinking, at least in public.

I run my tongue over my teeth and say, “No, I was thinking about your perfect, fuckable ass in my hands as I ground my dick on you.”

Her eyes turn lusty and she looks away, a smirk pulling at the corner of her maroon-stained lips.

“Oh, yes, that was . . . different too.” She picks up a piece of non-existent lint and asks, “How often do you think about it?”

“Often enough to make me uncomfortable.”

She chuckles. “Will there be a repeat tonight?”

“No,” I answer.

Her eyes spring up to mine in surprise. “No? So yesterday wasn’t a one-time thing? You’re really not going to have sex with me?”

“Nope.” I bring my wineglass to my mouth and sip. “I’m dating you, Natalie. Which means, we take it slow.”

“Jason did the same thing to Dottie, you know.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “He told her he wanted to date her right, take things slow. Pretty sure she won him over in a few shorts days.”

I take the last bite of my steak. “Jason has no willpower. Don’t forget the hotel room. I wanted you that first fucking night.”

“Yeah, but you snapped the minute I scraped a fingernail over your penis.”

I chuckle from the way she said penis. “Yeah, but you’ve shown me the goods, Natalie. And I’ve tasted them. Tasted you. That will hold me over until I can have you again.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs and tosses her napkin at me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

I take her napkin and fold it up, setting it nicely on the table. “But did you notice, I didn’t hand out the goods, and you’re the one who keeps bringing up sex.” I quirk a brow at her. “See how that works?”

“Wow, Cory . . . just wow.” The smile I’m addicted to stretches across her face while she folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “Maybe you aren’t good at this dating thing.”

“Nah, I’m amazing at it.” I stare at our plates and ask, “Dessert?”

“Oh, we’re having dessert,” she says, her voice rising in challenge. “You’re paying and I’m getting all of the desserts.”

Fuck. I like her so goddamn much.





“The mousse, easily.”

I nod in agreement, licking my spoon, trying to get all the flavor off it. “It was the raspberry compote. That shit was really good.”

Natalie dips her finger in the bowl and swipes the side. “Really fucking good.” I watch her stick her finger in her mouth and lick it clean. She’s not making it sexual in any way, but it still doesn’t stop my dick from stirring from the sight of her sucking hard.

I cough into my hand and say, “Want to get another one?”

“Seriously?” she asks in surprise.