The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,49
. . toilets.”
“You need a plumber?” Nathan asks me. “I can recommend someone.”
Jesus Christ. “I was asking for a friend.” I lift my chin. “Nathan, will you show me to the table?”
“Of course.” He gestures for me to follow, and we make our way through the crowd.
“I can’t wait until later,” Andrew says behind me, his voice low and gravelly. “Let’s leave.”
“Are you insane?” I shoot back over my shoulder.
“Probably.”
“I just got here,” I whisper-hiss.
“Then meet me in the bathroom.”
I attempt a scoff at his inappropriateness, but it comes off weak. With him this close, this insistent, it’s hard not to be reminded of what it’s like to submit to his demands. When I wished for a few hours more with Andrew, I should’ve specified I’d like to have him to myself.
“At least give me something to hold me over until later,” he says. “What are you wearing under this dress?”
“Another pair of underwear for you to steal.”
“What?”
A few days after Andrew left, I realized I was missing the lingerie I’d been wearing when we were together. The black lace pieces he’d commented on. I’d been alarmed but figured some guys were into that. I throw a glance over my shoulder. “I know you took my bra and panties when you left.”
He laughs gruffly over my shoulder. “I definitely did not.”
Nathan looks back at us, his eyebrows furrowed. We’re talking softly enough that he won’t hear what we’re saying—but clearly he can hear us speaking.
“I admit, at first I was a little pissed,” I say. I have a tendency to splurge on beautiful lingerie. I know when it goes missing.
“I didn’t take your dirty underwear, Amelia,” he says huskily. “Now, if you want to give it to me, I won’t turn it down.”
I want to look back to see if he’s serious about not taking it—it doesn’t seem like him to lie—but we’re suddenly at the table. My eyes go straight to Mindy.
She doesn’t notice me watching her, because she’s tracking Andrew with big, bright eyes. Did he give her some reason to look hopeful? And if so, why would I care? I got what I wanted from him, and it seems as though I can have it again if I choose.
Andrew pulls out a stage-facing seat for me, and I give him a look. Already, Nathan’s suspicious. “Just being polite,” he says.
“You wouldn’t guess it, but my brother’s a complete gentleman,” Sadie tells Mindy.
“Aw, sis,” Andrew says. “Why wouldn’t she guess it?”
As I sit, I respond under my breath so only he can hear, “Perhaps it’s stealing a lady’s unmentionables. Or the suggestion of screwing her in the bathroom.”
Andrew leans down as he helps me scoot my chair under the table. “You’re the one who can’t stop talking about toilets.”
“No, you’re right,” I say over my shoulder. “You are a complete gentleman. Tattoos and all.”
“What’s wrong with my tattoos?” he asks.
“Tattoos?” Nathan asks from the seat to my right. Apparently we weren’t talking as privately as I thought. “How do you know about his tattoos?” Before I can answer, Nathan hisses. “Oh, Jesus. Did you two—”
“Dude,” Andrew says. “Shut up.”
Sadie turns away from Mindy and puts a hand on Nathan’s forearm. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Nathan looks to her and back at us.
Imperceptibly, I shake my head, imploring him not to give us away.
“Nothing,” he says. “I thought I saw, uh, Karl Lagerfeld.”
“Karl Lagerfeld? Here?” Sadie gives him a funny look. “Do you even know what Karl Lagerfeld looks like?”
“Of course,” he says, looking flat-out guilty. The man is a shit liar, but fortunately, he’s lost Sadie’s attention. Her eyes are lasered to Andrew. When I look up, I realize why—he’s pulling out the chair next to mine.
“Andrew,” she says. “We already have a spot for you. Next to Mindy.”
“Ah.” He glances down at me. I widen my eyes at him, jerking my head to get him to go away. He’s turning out to be the least subtle person I know, and Sadie is about two seconds from picking up on our connection. Andrew clears his throat. “I thought it might be nice to sit across from Mindy so we could actually see each other.”
Sadie glares at him so hard that he slides the chair back in and rounds the table to sit between Howie, my digital strategy coordinator, and Mindy. Across from me. “But, of course you’re right, sis,” Andrew says, skating his eyes over me. “This is much better.”