As we wait for his friend, I run my eyes over the room.
Low lights spread a soft glow over the booths. Bouquets of white and purple lilac add a splash of color to the tables.
Soft piano music wafts through the air.
Couples share jokes and make small talk at the tables.
Young. Old. Women wearing elegant dresses. Men clad in suits and ties and starched shirts.
Furtively, I glance at Jaden.
What will happen to us in time?
The past flashes in front of my eyes. We’ve been through highs and lows, love and hate, regret and pain.
We’ve tested our bond through good and bad.
If we survive everything, would our lives turn boring and predictable after a while? Would he ever conform? Would I? Would our passion for each other die or thrive?
His eyes shift to the entrance as a tall, handsome man strides toward us. I swivel in my seat as Jaden makes the introductions.
My hand disappears in Kane’s palm for a moment, and my gaze meets his eyes as he squeezes my fingers gently.
He takes a seat next to me.
The men exchange looks as I furtively study Kane. It takes only a few moments to realize why they like each other. Kane is a version of Jaden. Good looking, oozing sexual power, and just as adventurous, I imagine.
Bangs of dark-brown hair fall over his smoldering, dark-green eyes. His shirt stretches over his hard chest and broad shoulders.
He gives me a glance before connecting his gaze with Jaden’s eyes. They share a smile, and my pulse spikes.
I grapple with a wave of heat.
Jaden slides his hand under the table and touches my thigh.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, everything is fine.”
He searches my eyes. I give him a soft nod.
He cups my cheek with his free hand, giving me a soft kiss.
He lingers for a moment, his mouth locked with mine, his scent and warmth rolling over me as his fingers trace my thigh.
Pleasure shoots across my skin. Kane roves his gaze over us as Jaden gives me another kiss.
My insides turn to liquid pleasure.
Jaden’s mouth slides over mine, and although briefly, he slips his tongue between my lips. A deep need surges through my center.
He smoothly pulls back as if nothing happened while I desperately run my hands over my dress, smoothing the hell out of it.
Discreetly, he adjusts his package.
The waiter, a talkative man, shows up and goes over our food options. Swiftly, he disperses the tension and, with it, the moment's magic.
We spend an hour eating dinner and making conversation, and we talk about business, travel, New York restaurants, and cars.