I stepped in and hugged her, giving her a lingering kiss on her cheek. “This is sensational. I’m so proud of you. You’re also very sexy in that dress.”
She giggled. I could tell she was tipsy, which made me hate that I had a gig to go to, especially with Ethan acting all chummy.
“Come outside for a minute,” I said.
Miranda looked at Ethan, whose smile had quickly faded.
“This is Lachlan.” She gestured. “And this is Ethan.”
“I’m the business partner.” He sounded so cocky that I disliked him immediately.
“I’m the boyfriend,” I said.
Miranda looked at me then Ethan and back and smiled tightly as though stymying a giggle.
I led her out into the alleyway, where a large, noisy crowd smoked and loitered about.
“This is a great turnout. You must be pleased,” I said.
“I am.” She studied me with a frown. “Are you truly my boyfriend?”
“To him, I am.”
“And to me?” she asked, tilting her head.
“I’m all yours, Miranda.” I held my arms wide.
She stopped walking and scrutinized me with a questioning frown.
“Are we good?” I asked.
Miranda nodded slowly, as though trying to make up her mind.
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ran my fingers over the curve of her neck. “I want to be with you, Miranda,”
“Is it because you just want to have sex with me?”
“It’s more than just fucking.” Taking a deep breath, I searched for the right words. “I’ve been with a lot of women, Miranda. And none of them have made me feel the way you do. I like being with you. The simple things, like you lying about, reading barefoot on the couch. Or us playing Scrabble and chess, even when you beat the pants off me. You’re real and beautiful and smart.” I pointed at the chipped brick wall stenciled with street art. “And I love what you’ve done with the Artefactory.”
She stared up at me wide-eyed and ran her tongue over her lips, drawing my attention to them.
I traced my finger around her lips, kissed her softly, then waltzed her away from the flickering lantern to a shadowy corner.
“You look good enough to eat,” I said, running my finger from between her breasts down to below her stomach.
Arousal grew between my legs as I rubbed myself against her, almost dry-humping her.
Her dress had a front opening, designed just for me, an impatient and horny lover. I hooked my finger inside her panties. “Oh god, you feel nice.”
I brushed her breasts as my mouth ate at hers. My tongue whipped around hers as though it were my cock inside her.
Someone walked past and whistled. I stopped, realizing we were putting on a show.
“Come to my gig,” I said.
“I can’t. I have to lock up.”
“Can’t Lover Boy do that?”