I duck my head, a blush rushing into my cheeks. I can’t help it because it’s been a long time since I’ve received such a compliment, let alone from a gorgeous stranger. “That’s quite a line,” I manage finally.
“Is it working, though?” he asks, and I realize he’s moved a bit closer to me. I can smell his cologne, and it’s expensive from the woodsy notes to the deep male musk that’s all him. Hell, everything about the guy looks expensive, right down to the gleaming watch on his wrist.
“We’ll see,” I say, and now it’s my turn to smile flirtatiously. “I’m Annemarie by the way. And you are?
“Bruce,” he replies, holding his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Bruce,” I reply, taking his hand and shaking it. His palm is rough and calloused, and his touch sends a jolt of electricity up my arm, making me start. I look up at him, eyes wide and already breathing hard.
“Well, Annemarie,” Bruce says, “what brings you here tonight?”
I wonder if I should lie, but then decide against it. It’s not like I’ll see him again after this.
“My friend and I just graduated,” I say lightly. “We came out to celebrate.”
He lifts his drink to his lips.
“Well, congratulations on finishing your college career. Those were the best four years of my life.”
I giggle a little.
“Oh no, not from college. From high school.”
That makes him choke a bit on his cocktail.
“Oh shit, I had no idea. You’re beautiful, honey, and I never would have guessed.”
“You mean, I’m dressed like a twenty-five year old skank.”
He smirks again a bit, those blue eyes flaring.
“Okay, that too, but I like it. So sneaking into a shitty bar in New Jersey is your way of celebrating?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I fire back, echoing his earlier words to me. It’s amazing how easily the banter is coming. It’s like we’ve known each other far longer than a few minutes, bouncing flirtatious questions back and forth like we’ve been doing it our whole lives. “You look like you belong somewhere bougie. Expensive. Manhattan, I’m guessing?”
“What are you implying?” Bruce asks in a low tone, raising a dark eyebrow at me.
“That a guy like you wouldn’t come somewhere like this if he wasn’t looking for something in particular,” I respond boldly. “The question is what.”
“Indeed it is,” says Bruce, and once again that knowing smile appears on his strong features, cocky yet attractive too. It’s aggravating, mysterious, and alluring at the same time, and the butterflies are back in my stomach in full force.
“So what are you here for then, Bruce?” I dare to ask. “What are you looking for?” I’m kicking myself almost the second the words are out because the questions sound desperate. I’ve never flirted this openly before, and especially not with someone who’s so much older than I am.
In return, the handsome man looks at me for a moment, those blue eyes missing nothing. Suddenly, I feel utterly naked under his gaze and flames burn in my pelvis as I hold still for his searing appraisal. When he speaks again, my heart threatens to burst from my chest. “You know, sweetheart,” he says, taking a step closer, his body heat filling the space between us, “I think I might have just found it.”
2
Annemarie
I don’t usually go home with strangers. It’s not that I’m a prude, but the truth is that meeting handsome men isn’t exactly easy when you live at home and are still treated as a child by your parents. There’s always something or someone to get in the way. It’s like an ocean of cock blockers.
Not this time, though. Even if my parents weren’t out of town for the weekend, I’m about to move into my own place, and I’m old enough to make my own decisions. Even if those decisions are irresponsible as hell.
This is to say, I’m practically consumed with anticipation as Bruce leads me out of the club, to where a luxury sedan sits parked along the sidewalk. My mouth nearly drops open when I see it, but I manage to keep my cool… even if I’m about to lose it anyway at the feeling of his hand on my lower back. I can feel his palm through the flimsy fabric of my dress, and it’s already making me hot, the excitement mixing with nervousness and jitters. I remind myself that we’re both sober, consenting adults. I remind myself that I deserve this. But that doesn’t make the experience of getting into the passenger seat of a luxury sports car any more surreal.
Bruce doesn’t say much as we zoom away from the club, heading straight for the George Washington Bridge. At least I won’t get lost in the city, I reason, and Colette knows I’ve left since I remembered to send her a text as we left. Throughout the ride, I can feel Bruce’s energy, which is as dark, brooding, and mysterious as his appearance. When he puts a large hand on my knee, sliding it slowly up my thigh, I can’t help but to shiver. I do my best to play it cool, but I catch the way he’s sliding glances at me, like a predator hungry for its prey, and it only makes my insides go warm and loose.