Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,52
and her friends dancing at a club. Doing shots together. Grinding on each other at one point, which is hot. Not that I pay attention to any of the other women.
I only have eyes for Eleanor.
Now I’m at Wilder, and I know she is too. They ended up at one of the bars in the casino, and she texted me about fifteen minutes ago to let me know they just arrived. She also gave me the name of the bar. I’m headed there now.
Once I enter the place, I see it’s not just a bar but kind of a makeshift nightclub. There’s a DJ playing music and a few people out on the tiny dance floor. I spot Eleanor standing near the bar with her friends, and yes, they’re all very attractive women. There’s one in particular with long dark hair and a face like a movie star’s.
That’s nice and all, but she’s not my Eleanor.
They do another round of shots, and when Eleanor laughs, my body responds. I stare at her, willing her to feel my gaze, to see me, and I watch as she goes completely still, an unsure expression on her pretty face. She glances over her shoulder, her brows lowered, and our gazes meet.
Lock.
Eleanor parts those pretty peach lips as she watches me, dragging her tongue across her lower lip. I watch her back, keeping my expression impassive, though my body tightens at first sight of her tongue. We’re communicating with each other without saying a word.
She turns away from me, resting her hand on one of her friend’s arms before she leaves them. Her gaze lands on mine once more, and she tilts her head as if to say:
Follow me.
I do as she silently asks, keeping my distance as we move through the crowded bar, but staying close enough that I don’t lose her. She heads to the back of the building, coming to a short, dark hallway before she turns right, and I go after her and find a door. Since she’s nowhere in sight, I open it to find a dimly lit bathroom.
And Eleanor standing in the middle of it.
Leaning my back against the door, I reach out and turn the lock—this is the second time today we’ve done something like this—and remain quiet. She’s quiet too, and there’s this electric energy that fills the air between us. She can feel it too. I can tell by the sudden nervous look on her face. The way her pretty eyes widen ever so slightly, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
Seeing her tongue again is nearly my undoing.
“Having fun?” I finally ask, my voice rough.
She nods. “Yes.”
“Did you miss me?”
Another nod. “I did. I do.” Her voice is shaky.
I push away from the door and draw closer to her. “I missed you too.”
It’s crazy but true. It’s only been a few hours since we’ve been together, but I missed her like crazy. I’ve lived my entire life without her, and now I’m about twenty-four hours in and acting like I can’t function without her by my side.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Eleanor tilts her head back to meet my gaze when I stop directly in front of her. “We’re going back to the suite soon. We have a little surprise planned.”
“What type of surprise?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Strippers.”
Jealousy rips through me. I don’t want some asshole grinding his junk on my girl.
My girl? Where do I come up with this stuff?
“You want to see the strippers?” I ask, my voice even, my emotions chaotic.
She shrugs. “Not particularly.”
What a good answer.
“Sounds like you’re going to be busy all night.” I reach out and rest my hand on her hip, caressing it gently. “Won’t have any time for me.”
“I will definitely have time for you,” she says, her voice firm. “I’m just not sure how I’ll get you into the suite.”
“You don’t want your friends to meet me?” I raise a brow, though deep down, I’m relieved. I don’t want to meet her friends either. Not yet. What if one of them is a football fan? What if one of them recognizes me?
Eleanor will think I’m a liar, and technically, I guess I am, which fucking sucks. I feel bad about it, but I don’t want her to figure out who I am yet. I want her to know and appreciate me for…me. Not because of who I am or what I do or how much money I make.
She shifts even closer to me,