think we can. Maybe we can only move forward and figure out what our new world order will be.
One thing I know for sure is that new world orders are best negotiated over martinis.
We head into the bar.
With low flickering lights, lavish archways, curved wood trim, and faded green woodwork on the walls, the quiet bar hearkens back more than a hundred years to turn-of-the-century Paris.
Even the bartender looks like she’s stepped out of the Belle Époque, hair piled high above her head and wearing a low, ruffled top.
She says hello to us in French as soft, sensual music floats in the air, surrounding us.
The kind of music that plays when you sigh wistfully, fling open your balcony window, curl your hands over the iron latticework railing, and stare out at the city, asking the river what you should do next.
I wish I could talk to the river. I wish it could tell me what to do about my desire.
But there’s no river here.
No one to ask either.
I can only ask myself if I’m going to proceed with the role-play. Take the game we began to the next level.
I flash back to Nadia’s words in the shop, to my own confidence then.
But then intimacy with Daniel was merely a delicious idea.
A lovely notion.
Now it’s real.
Now it’s happened.
Do I want it to happen again?
Well, the obvious answer is yes.
But can I withstand it when we need to stop playing?
Can I control my need?
We slide into a small circular booth, and his thigh grazes mine. A bolt of electricity rocks my body. Lights me up again.
I am flammable around Daniel Stewart.
One touch and I melt. One kiss and I flame. That’s how I feel around him.
Like I’m truly combustible.
Maybe because it’s been so long for me. Perhaps because I’ve shut down those parts of myself since my marriage, when my sense of faith and trust was immolated.
Or perhaps I’m vibrating with desire simply because I want Daniel Stewart madly, deeply.
The woman from behind the bar circles by our table. “What can I get you two? We have some specials if you’d like to hear them. We also have local wines.”
My instinct is to say yes to a white, but I need something stronger. “I’ll take a dirty martini, please.”
“Sounds perfect,” Daniel agrees. “Make it two.”
When the woman leaves, he looks at me and says, “We don’t ever have to do that again. But what we do have to do is this. Make sure we’re all good.”
At his words, all my worry slinks away. It tiptoes out, turns the corner, and barely waves goodbye. It simply fades into the night.
The fact that he cares so deeply about us, our friendship, our partnership, means the world to me.
“What do you think we should do?” I ask, eager to know where he’s at.
He locks his blue gaze tight to mine, holding my eyes with his intensity. “Scarlett, I’m wildly attracted to you. I want to take you to the room and fuck you. I want to bring you pleasure over and over again. I want to have you,” he says, and I tremble with lust. I squeeze my legs closed, my thighs rubbing together, my center aching for him. How can he do this to me over and over? Maybe the answer is because he’s so damn direct. He owns his lust. “But the next day, I want us to be like this again.” He gestures from him to me. “I want us to talk. To banter. To make decisions together.” A small, vulnerable smile crosses his lips. “That may be a dream. But it’s mine. Is that even possible?”
He raises an excellent question, one I don’t have the answer to, even though I love the idea. “Is it?”
He shrugs, sighing heavily. “I don’t know how that would work. I’ve never had a relationship like that,” he says, his tone more vulnerable, more earnest than he’s ever been.
And because he’s been honest with me, I must be with him. “I’ve never had anything like that before either. I’ve never had that kind of relationship at all.”
“Have you always been in serious relationships? Committed ones?”
The answer is easy. “Yes. I have. My marriage, and before that, I was always in relationships. I’ve never truly had a fling. I wouldn’t know what one’s like.”
He takes a beat, but his eyes never stray from mine. “Do you want to try?”
“I don’t know,” I say, answering from the heart as the server swings by, setting down our martinis.
“Here you