Charmed by the Billionaire (Blue Collar Billionaires #2) - Lemmon, Jessica Page 0,62
don’t always like butt grabs as they’re walking away. And we like to be told we’re smart as well as hot. Oh, and having a ceiling fan on while he’s going down on me makes me cold. In turn he’s taught me if I bury him under the covers while he’s pleasing me he’s in danger of suffocating.
We’re both learning.
“Leave it to Josie,” he says, wrapping up his story. I was listening, partially. In my defense, I already knew what happened. I know everything going on in the office. I overheard his conversation with Josie this afternoon. “I figure you can iron it out on Monday. She likes you.”
“Absolutely.” I reach for my cell phone and open my calendar.
“No phones at dinner,” he says.
“Now you’re turning into your mom?”
“It’s Dad’s rule, but he made it for her.”
“Will is a good husband.”
Benji nods, his smile as warm as a mug of tea. “He is.”
“How else am I supposed to remember I need to do something for you on Monday if I don’t put it on my calendar?”
“One of the perils of mixing business and pleasure.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling at him unabashedly. The mix of business and pleasure between us is less fifty-fifty and more like thirty-seventy. I’m having trouble compartmentalizing like I promised myself I would. The lines between best friend and boss were easier to navigate than the lines between best friend and lover.
“I didn’t invite you to dinner to talk about work. And here I am talking about work.” He picks up his wineglass and promises, “No more work talk.”
“Don’t be silly. What else do couples talk about when they’re on a date?” I lift my own wineglass as an awkward silence falls between us. Clarity dawns as I replay what I said. We’re a couple in the most technical sense of the word. But we’re not a couple by the standard definition. There will be no shared holidays. No snuggling on the sofa after a long day. No moment where he gives me his house key or we talk about how to navigate the treacherous waters of dealing with the in-laws.
I am saved from further dissecting who we are to each other by our server, who glides over to ask if we’d like dessert. She rattles off a long list of options. By the time she mentions “warm vanilla-glazed donuts” I exchange glances with Benji across the table. His eyes sparkle, a knowing smirk parked on his lips. I assume his mind returned to the memory of the donuts we shared the night I surrendered my virginity. If, like me, he’s thinking how any donut, no matter how gourmet, would fail to stand up to the divine perfection of the donuts we shared that evening.
“Just the takeout boxes,” I tell our server without breaking eye contact with my date. “We’ll have dessert at home.”
“Excellent choice,” Benji praises after our server leaves.
“The takeout boxes?” I widen my eyes and try to look innocent.
“Pray tell,” he says, holding my hand over the table. “What kind of dessert do we have at home? And are you now calling my house ‘home’?”
“I… I guess I am. I’ve been at your house more often than mine.” Lately especially. For good reason. My house is cavernous and lonely. There are no noisy brothers to keep me company any longer, and no luxurious bedding with Benji on top of it.
“Yeah, I guess you have.” His eyes narrow in consideration. “I didn’t notice. I’m so used to you being there. Huh.”
“I can cut back if you like,” I sort of joke as my hand grows damp in his.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he reprimands gently as he pulls his hand from mine.
“I’m just surprised I didn’t notice.”
“Too busy having your mind blown?” I lob the brag at him, hoping he takes my cue. We can banter our way out of being uncomfortable if he’s willing. He doesn’t disappoint.
“I have created a monster.”
“It’s not nice to call a lady a monster.”
“I can’t say what I’m thinking here, Cris,” he murmurs.
“Those damn decency laws,” I whisper, noting the exact moment when the awkwardness dissipates between us. He leans in, taking my hand again. I’m warm all over, eagerly anticipating some signature Benji dirty talk.
Unfortunately, at that moment the server returns with our takeout boxes. Even more unfortunately, we are forced to sit back in our seats and wait while our server makes small talk and packs up our food for us.