“Hi,” she said, smiling. “I’m here for Gage Navarro.”
The hostess looked back, smiling at her with approval.
“He has arrived, miss. I will show you to your seat.”
The hostess grabbed a menu and guided Rylee inside the establishment.
It looked like a fancy Italian restaurant decorated in minimalist shades of eggshell white with subtle mint green accents. The walls were cherry oak lined with evenly distributed medieval-era paintings that Rylee vaguely recognized. Each table was adorned with a lit sconce emanating a soft glow amongst the romantic dimness of the room.
It was a dreamy space that made Rylee feel even more nervous. The hostess took her to a secluded booth, dark beyond the small glowing light at the center of the table. Gage was sitting with a glass of bourbon swirling in his hand, a velvety green curtain enclosing the booth for privacy.
Rylee’s heart skipped a beat. She could barely see him, most of his face veiled in the dark. But the sight of his strong hands, as well as the spilling of tattoos on his knuckles, made parts of her flutter that she had never imagined could.
“Thank you,” Gage said quietly.
Rylee didn’t realize that the hostess had placed the menu on the table in front of her, and Gage was slowly leaning out of the darkness. He was smirking at her. His pink lips were the first thing that caught her eye, painting perfectly on the backdrop of that flawless jawline. His beard had been groomed and trimmed, tightly cascaded around his face like the most expensive fabric.
His dark blue eyes were next to captivate her. Like the mystery of the deep ocean, they called to her, matching the lustful scent of the sea that she had caught a whiff of the first night they met. They stood out like sapphires in the snow.
Rylee was clutching her purse, feeling like everything was moving in slow motion as she took in the tight beige dress shirt he wore, clinging to his biceps desperately. He was still smiling when she finally came down from the surreal moment, the din of the clinking and clanking of the restaurant anchoring her.
“Sorry,” she said rapidly.
Gage raised an eyebrow which made Rylee already want to squirt in her panties.
“For what?” he asked, the vibrato of his voice shooting up through the bottom of her legs.
Rylee tried not to bite her lip and instead began unbuttoning the front of her jacket. Gage took a slow drink of his bourbon, breathing in the sweet perfume as he watched her closely.
“You took me aback for a second,” Rylee said, trying on her sensual voice for a size.
That smirk returned.
“Back where?” he responded slyly.
Rylee was doing everything she could not blush, giggle, to give into how intimidatingly handsome he was. She maintained eye contact as she finished unbuttoning her jacket and then threw it off her body in one fell swoop.
Gage’s beautiful eyes wandered her body slowly but in a way that was admirable and sexy, rather than leering and disturbing. He returned to her gaze, his eyes still faint as he blinked at her slowly. He maintained his half-grin as he took a slow sip of his beverage.
She hoped he was satisfied with what he was seeing. She had put work into how she looked, telling herself that it was for her, to help her feel attractive, but it was truly mostly so his hands would magnetize to her hips again.
As well as many other hungry places.
“To wherever you want,” Rylee responded.
She was standing still, wearing that revealing and provocative dress in the middle of a restaurant that was probably packed with over a hundred people. But locking eyes with Gage made her feel like they were alone somewhere dark and secluded, touching each other the way they did in his office a week ago.
His gaze was erotic, torching her pussy with its inviting conviction.
Rylee slowly sat in the booth opposite him, her legs needing a break from her heels. Gage continued to watch her closely, amused but not critical. She hoped somewhere beneath the table he was getting hard, unable to imagine having to get through a meal without, well, making her the meal.
She squeezed her legs under the table at the thought.
Gage peeled himself away from her as he picked up the menu.
“I hope you brought an appetite,” he said.
His voice made her shiver. Everything he said sounded like a double entrada, whether he meant it to be or not. How the fuck was she going to get through this meal?