Do You Take This Man (70)
RJ: Something wrong with your neck?
She was at the bar across the room, nursing a glass of wine. She never used to stay for the receptions, always leaving once the marriage certificate was signed or her duties were otherwise fulfilled. She leaned against the corner of the bar from her perch on the stool, one leg crossed over the other. I returned her text, only flicking my eyes from her for a moment.
Lear: Long day.
RJ: You look tense.
Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, her curls restrained and tamped down, and I had an urge to mess it up. She traced a fingertip down her neck and across her collarbone, her teeth just barely sinking into her bottom lip.
Lear: You don’t.
RJ: How do I look?
She met my eyes, and she looked . . . predatory, like this was a contest she was gearing up to win. I’d gotten used to her real smile and her jokes. This was something different. Of course it is. She reminded you what she wants. Not smiles, not jokes, just pleasure. I glanced down at her body, letting my eyes trail slowly back up, knowing she was watching me look. She slowly—achingly slowly—uncrossed and recrossed her legs, and I wanted to groan.
Lear: Like you want to meet me in the bathroom down the hall from the coatroom.
Her lips tipped up in a grin, and she finished her wine, setting it gingerly on the bar top. I tried not to notice the lines of her throat when she sipped or think about how she liked to be kissed along the slope of her shoulders, how she was soft and cuddled in those moments after we’d had sex. No.
RJ: Maybe so.
Across the room, Tina gave me a thumbs-up and motioned to her watch, showing she had things handled. I normally took a break to sit down or return emails or just get off my feet. Tonight, I planned to make better use of the time. RJ had already stood and was making her way out of the hall, hips swaying. Beautiful, round hips swaying, and I couldn’t shake the tension at the base of my neck, the awareness of what she’d said, of the deleted messages on my phone, and the edginess I’d felt all night.
I pushed off the wall, loosening up, shaking off the cobwebs. I wasn’t some touchy-feely, emotional guy. I left that guy in California, and if RJ Brooks wanted sex with no complicated emotion, I could do that. Hell, maybe it would help get my head on straight.
I knocked lightly on the door of the single-stall bathroom, an out-of-the-way place I’d scouted earlier. Spacious, tucked away, and clean. It was ideal for brides in enormous dresses.
“Come in.” Her voice was low and smoky, and when I pushed open the door, she was sitting on the vanity, legs crossed again. Her palms gripped the edge of the marble surface, arms outstretched, which pushed her breasts together. “You have an answer for me?”
I licked my lip and reached behind me to flip the lock. “Yeah.”
Her eyes met mine as I closed the distance between us. “We usually meet after rehearsals. You made me wait.”
I stopped just an inch or two from her, noticing how her knee shifted toward me.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
I dragged my forefinger from her kneecap up her thigh, the fabric of the dress soft under my touch, the heat from her body radiating toward me. My voice came out sharper than I’d planned, deeper and more clipped. “Too fucking bad.”
RJ’s body almost shivered at my touch, like a ripple of want passed through her. She wanted me to go faster, but I continued the slow pace of my finger up her thigh until I was at the top, and then I slid it across her lap, watching her squirm. “You’ve never talked to me like that before.” Her teeth sank into her lip again, deeper this time.
“You lied to me.” I stepped closer, my erection pressing against her leg. Her eyes glinted at this change in our behavior, but I spoke honestly. “It made me mad.”
RJ uncrossed her legs, taking time to rub one against my dick, and her expression shifted, like she was calculating something. “You made me mad, too. You ignored my messages. You know I hate that.”
I continued to slide my finger back up, then down, her thigh, grazing under the hem of her skirt, itching to move my hands up under her dress and feel her heat. “But you want to spread those beautiful legs for me, don’t you?”
RJ’s fingers slid into my hair and slowly curled against my scalp, waking up all my senses. “I told you I don’t like waiting.”
I pulled my hand away from her dress and stroked up her bare arm, seeing the goose bumps rise and the frustration flash on her face. “And I told you, that’s too fucking bad.”
Her fingers tightened in my hair and I inhaled sharply. She spread her thighs, and I stepped between them, our eyes meeting and her dress riding up. “Why is it so hot when you talk to me like that?”
I wanted to slide further, to dip my hands between her legs and give her what she wanted, but I knew this was driving her crazy and I clung to that iota of control. I shrugged. I couldn’t mess up her hair, not here, but making her agitated was enthralling. I reminded myself I didn’t have to be gentle and romantic. She’d made it clear she didn’t want that. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to have sex with you.”
RJ pressed a hand between us, stroking me through my pants. “Yes, you have.”
She hadn’t touched me in two weeks, and I clenched my jaw against the sensation of her palm. RJ’s expression was smug, and she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and damn.