Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,56
now she could feel the heat radiating off his body and that familiar pull of gravity that made her want to slide over one more inch, two, until she could drape her leg over his, let him run his hand up her thigh, up to where there was already evidence that she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended, and her body had its own ideas about what kind of special birthday treat it might like—
Sarah deliberately moved away from Joe again. He might be taking the night off, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t afford to. Not now, not ever.
Not without losing too much in the bargain.
***
Sarah yawned. She made a point of never drinking on these trips because she knew she’d feel too fuzzy-headed in the morning. But she didn’t mind feeling that way now, thanks to the wine, especially since it helped turn Chapman’s monologue into white noise in the background while she concentrated on what was happening underneath the table.
She wasn’t sure which of them moved first—it could have been either—but it wasn’t long before they sat leg to leg again, Joe’s hand resting comfortably on top of her thigh.
“Right,” he’d say to Chapman, or “Yep,” while at the same time letting his hand roam upward on Sarah’s slick pajama pants, the heat inside her building with each centimeter he climbed higher, until finally she had to capture his fingers and push them back to safe territory. They sat there that way for a while, fingers intertwined while they ate and drank with their outside hands—Sarah trying to maneuver her fork left-handed, which was a challenge—and then Joe’s hand began drifting upward again and Sarah had to guard the gates.
It was a tease and a seduction and a game they both knew, but Sarah had little desire to stop it. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the birthday, or maybe it was just the fact that she had let him get this far, and she didn’t care anymore where it went. Not tonight. Just this once.
He stroked his thumb across the top of her hand now, the movement slow and rhythmic, and Sarah had to clamp her lips together to keep the moan from escaping. His touch felt as arousing as if he turned to her in the booth, spread her kimono top open, and took her breasts with his hands and his mouth.
Joe must have noticed her yawn. She had tried to be as obvious about it as possible.
“Listen, Paul,” he said, “I’m going to have to call it a night. I don’t have your kind of stamina.”
Chapman obviously liked that. He chest almost visibly puffed out.
“How about you, Sarah—had enough?” Joe asked.
“Plenty,” she said.
Joe signaled for the check. As soon as it arrived, Sarah reached for it.
“Not on your life,” Joe said, snatching it up. He released Sarah’s hand so he could pull his wallet out of his jeans.
Chapman sat there, making no such move.
But Joe wasn’t shy. “Come on, Paul, let’s have your credit card.” He held out his hand and waited.
Chapman dug out his wallet and took his time pulling out the card. He looked over at Sarah. “What about you, Henley? Or are you pulling the female thing?”
“She’s pulling the female thing,” Joe confirmed. “Dinner’s on you and me tonight.”
“Unbelievable,” Chapman muttered.
Joe ignored him and handed the bill and both credit cards to the server.
“So, you’re one of those?” Chapman asked Sarah. His words had grown more slurred throughout dinner, and his eyes seemed to lose their focus.
“One of what?” Sarah asked coldly.
“A ‘feminist,’” he said, putting finger quotes around it, “when it suits you, and a ‘female’ when it comes to paying for anything?”
“That’s right, Paul,” she said. “You have me all figured out.” She started to exit the booth.
“Is that why you went to law school?” Chapman asked.
Sarah paused for the inevitable follow-up insult.
“To get yourself a husband?” he continued. “Only it didn’t work out, huh? Too much of a ball-buster.”
“Yep, that’s right, Paul,” she said. “Balls spontaneously exploding everywhere I go. You got it.”
Sarah turned to Joe. “Thanks for dinner. It was . . . unusual.”
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“Aren’t you afraid for your balls?” she asked for Chapman’s benefit.
“I’m a risk-taker,” Joe answered.
He signed the receipt, then escorted her out of the restaurant.
“What an asshole,” Sarah muttered.
“He never disappoints,” Joe agreed.
“Why did you invite him?” She’d been dying to ask him that for the last hour they had been trapped.