She shrugged against him. “I suppose that’s true.”
“So there. I know stuff about you already.” He snuggled her closer, drawing lazy lines across her belly as they talked. “I also know you’re daring, and not afraid to speak your mind, and that you have a healthy sexual appetite.”
She smiled, and elbowed him playfully. “I do, but don’t think I get around because I don’t. You’re the first man I’ve been with in a year.”
“You’ve been with women in between then?” he asked, in a teasing tone.
“Ha ha. But not what I meant. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind.”
“I absolutely would not mind watching you eat pu**y one bit. In fact, I’m going to add that to my bucket list. You, and all that gorgeous red hair spread out across a pair of sexy thighs as you lick and kiss and suck…”
She shook her head and laughed. “You are trouble. All I was saying is that I don’t do this often. I don’t hookup with men who come to my bar.”
“I came in your bar too,” he added, making Julia snicker once again. The moonlight shone through the window that overlooked the streets of San Francisco, and the white gauzy curtain blew gently in the night breeze. Outside the door, she was vaguely aware of a cart being rolled, which meant room service somewhere on the floor was being delivered. Maybe to another pair of new lovers who were famished after the best kind of workout. But even if there were other lovers nearby, she knew – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that no one else had this kind of mind-blowing chemistry. She and Clay were electric. “Anyway, I don’t do this either. It’s not a habit. You have to know you’re irresistible, Julia. Irresistible,” he repeated.
With that one word, her heart beat the tiniest bit faster; maybe it even started to leap. And a part of her wanted to bolt for having the single tiniest little feeling beyond the physical. But another part of her wanted to bask in that feeling a little more.
“So are you,” she whispered.
He ran his strong fingers through her hair, touching her softly. “Now, let’s go back to the start of this conversation. I want you tell me something about you. You’re not getting out of this so easily.”
She wriggled her rear against him. “I wasn’t trying to. What do you want to know?”
“What do you like to read?”
She smiled in the dark. She liked that he’d asked first about books, rather than movies or TV, the world he trafficked in. “Books,” she said dryly.
“What kind of books, Little Miss Sarcastic?”
“Adventure stories,” she said, and she could practically feel him raise an eyebrow inquisitively. She shifted to her other side so she could face him as they talked. He shot her a quizzical look, as if he were perturbed by the breaking of the physical contact. He solved the problem quickly, reaching out to touch her, running his hand down her thigh.
“Can’t keep your hands off me?”
“No, I can’t. And I see no reason not to touch you. What kind of adventure stories?”
“Real adventures. Scary adventures. Like the ship captain who was held hostage by Somali pirates.”
“A Captain’s Duty,” he said, and she was impressed he knew the title of the book, rather than simply the title for the film based on it. “Good book. Good movie too, Captain Phillips. What else?”
“Stories about Seals.”
“The fictional ones where they’re back from their missions and they fall in love with the hot woman they’re assigned to protect?”
“No,” she said, laughing.
“Wait. The ones where they fall for the physical therapist who rehabs them after war?”
Another laugh. “My my, don’t you know everything about romance tropes? But no, I mean the real ones about their real missions.”
“That’s it. You’re going to have to stop talking now. Because if you say anything more it’s going to become clear you are the most perfect woman ever made.”
“And why is that? You a fan of seal stories too?”
“I’m a fan of you growing more fascinating with every detail I learn.”
“I’m an onion. Keep peeling me.”
“A sexy onion. Let me take off another layer,” he said and bent his head to her shoulder, nibbling playfully.
“What about you?”
“What about me? What do I like to read?”
“No. I’m picking a different topic. What movies do you like? And don’t name your clients’ films.”
“Of course, their works are all my favorites. But when I’m not watching their movies, I like heist flicks.”
“Like Ocean’s Eleven?”
He nodded. “Best heist movie ever.”
“And the Italian Job?”
“Another excellent one.”
“And the Thomas Crowne Affair?”
“Brilliant plot.”
“And Die Hard?”
“Seen it ten times. Maybe more,” Clay said.
“I love them all too,” she said.
“Okay, now you have to cease speaking.”
“Because that makes me perfect?” She joked.
“Something like that,” he muttered as he pulled her in close, and kissed her once more.
* * *
When she woke up the next morning, Clay ran a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat. “I can push back my flight until later tonight. Do you want to spend the day with me?”