“What is your thing?”
“I had girlfriends, some for more than a few years at a time,” he said. “But I just didn’t have a lot of sex compared to my peers. I’ve always been incredibly busy. It takes a lot to keep me entertained.”
There was a long silence as I studied his profile. It was strange that he had chosen somewhere along the way not to use his beautiful face as a weapon to satisfy himself. He could have so easily let himself be consumed by sex the way he let his other obsessions rule him.
“What was your first time like?” I asked softly.
“Scared the shit out of me,” he said, smiling into the dark. “I grew up in a house full of boys and no one ever talked about women. I’d had a girlfriend for a few months as a teenager and we decided to have sex in her bedroom one day. Turned out she was on her period and she didn’t know. I thought I’d really hurt her and it scared the shit out of me. That was the day I found out that women got periods.”
I laughed aloud and clapped my hand over my mouth.
“You can laugh, it’s funny in hindsight,” he said. “I made sure to talk to my brothers about women. God knows, my father wasn’t going to do it.”
“So, if you can go without sex, why do you want it so much?”
He scowled, his brows low over his smoldering gaze. “Just because I can control my dick doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy putting it in my wife. We both like fucking each other so why not fuck each other?”
He had a point, but there was a strange ache in my chest. I frowned, chiding myself for caring. What had I expected? He wasn’t going to say I was special and that was the reason he couldn’t keep his hands off me. I was just a warm, consenting body that conveniently slept an arm’s length away. Neither of us spoke for a while as he drove into the city, but I kept my eyes on him. Watching the streetlights flash gold in his unreadable gaze.
We pulled up outside an expensive looking restaurant and he cut the engine.
“Can we go home first?” I asked. “I’d like to change my underwear.”
He stabbed out the butt of his cigarette and stepped out of the car. I watched him circle the vehicle and open my door, holding out his palm. I shifted in my seat so I could put my heels on the pavement and my panties bunched between my legs.
Wet from him.
“Peregrine, please,” I said.
“No,” he said.
His eyes were relentless. He didn’t like that I wanted to clean what he’d done off my body. Warmth flooded my hips and pooled, a little heartbeat sparking deep inside. I fell quiet, cowed, and let him lead me up the sidewalk. As we stepped through the front door of the restaurant, I realized in a rush of shame that the wetness between my thighs wasn’t just from him anymore.
Yes, it wasn’t comfortable, but it felt like a sweet, dirty secret in a place only he had ever touched. I squirmed as we walked, trying to relieve the little pulse in my clit. He guided me through the doors, his hand on my lower back, and I was sure I saw his gaze drift down to my hips.
A little smirk touched his mouth.
“Table for two,” he said, passing the seating host a bill. “Sorry, I didn’t make it to my reservation, my wife was absolutely stuffed earlier. But she’s ready to eat now if you have space.”
I gaped at him, but he kept a resolutely straight face.
“It’s alright, Mr. Calo, we have room,” the man said, dipping his head and turning to lead us down the hall.
The dining room was dim and there was a large, decorative stone in the center of the room with water flowing over the surface. It glowed faintly purple and as we passed, I saw the reflection of us in the glossy stone. My throat constricted.
We looked like a real couple going out for a date and it made me faintly sad. I swallowed, my throat dry, and rearranged my face as I took my seat opposite my husband. The waiter offered a wine menu and Peregrine shook his head.
“Merlot, whatever you prefer,” Peregrine said, settling his long legs beneath the table. He had a way of sitting back in his chair with his knees spread and his body relaxed that annoyed me. It felt arrogant.
“I’ll have the same,” I said.
“Bring the bottle, please,” said Peregrine. “And let’s get a starter. What would you like, Lia?”
I froze, glancing around for a menu. “I don’t know.”
Peregrine turned to our waiter. “Just something light, neither of us are picky.”
The man inclined his head and disappeared just as Peregrine’s phone pinged. He took it out and frowned lightly and his mouth moved as he read. I took the opportunity to really look at him for the first time that night. His dark hair was tousled from our ride in the car, but it still had that annoyingly perfect cologne commercial wave. The candlelight flickered off his tanned skin and the faint raised line of his scar.