“How recent?” His steely gaze remained locked with hers.
“Six, maybe seven months ago.”
“How long were you together?”
“Three years.”
The light strumming along her inner thigh didn’t stop.
Loralai found it difficult to think straight. He reached her on so many levels, it was impossible to process all of the consuming sensations. The heat, the exhilaration, the anxiety, the longing, the insanely erotic feel of his skilled touch.
The way he devoured her with hungry eyes, she had no doubt he experienced the intense arousal himself. Which only seemed to heighten with every passing second.
In a questioning tone, he started to ask, “So that makes you a les—”
“I don’t subscribe to labels,” she told him. “Designer or otherwise. Sometimes I enjoy the finer things in life. Sometimes they feel overindulgent or not in mesh with my personality. I’m not ruled by labels, as I stated yesterday, or confining descriptions. They’re just words, Tague. I can’t be defined by them.”
“Alright.” He gave a slight nod.
“Meg and I were each other’s rebound dates.”
His brow quirked. “For three years?”
“Think of it as life-preservers. We both needed emotional intimacy, more so than sexual intimacy. In fact, we were rarely together since I was in Paris for the most part and she was here, opening the club. She’d gone through a painful breakup, and so we created a safety net for ourselves. We finally admitted that was all it was—all it would ever be. We’d never fall in love with each other. It was a very amiable, mutual split.”
“Have you dated since?”
“Does it matter?”
10
“Yes, it does.”
She let out a soft sigh. “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, Tague.”
“Did I suggest that?”
Loralai’s gaze dropped briefly to his hand on her leg, his thumb still caressing that overly sensitive part of her body. Making her burn brighter.
He rested his other arm along the top of the plush booth. Loralai held fast to her glass of champagne, fighting the urge to touch him. Already, this spiraled out of control.
She said, “I believe you mentioned your bed.”
The thin lines around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Why yes, I did. I guess I couldn’t help myself. Make no mistake, I thoroughly enjoy your carefree daytime persona. And this side of you is sensational. As a whole… you are definitely the complete package.”
“Still not your type.”
“Again… You don’t get to make that judgement call.”
“I’ve spent enough time here at the club to deduce—”
“Loralia. I don’t subscribe to labels, either. So don’t categorize me. I’m not a cookie-cutter Mason.”
“Well, then. I guess we both have multiple facets neither was anticipating.”
“Agreed,” he said. “And I suppose you learned a lot from your relationship with Meg.”
“Immeasurably.” Her gaze didn’t falter as she added, “To answer your question, I have gone out on occasion. With guys I considered more friends than dates—I didn’t have sex with any of them.”