Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
S kye
"This pizza is delicious." I'm almost singing as I stuff my face with pepperoni and mushroom pizza. I lick my lips and look over at Kingston, who is staring at me with a bemused expression on his face. His blue eyes are dazzling and I try not to shiver at the glance that he's giving me. I feel really comfortable in his company and I'm putting it down to the three glasses of wine that I've already had and the fact that he was super nice to leave the restaurant with me.
"It is pretty good pizza. I'm glad you're enjoying it." He nods as he reaches for another slice. "Do you still want to order those breadsticks that you were talking about?"
"Is that an actual question?" I ask him, groaning.
"Yeah, it is. You said you wanted breadsticks as well as pizza."
"I didn't realize this pizza was going to be so huge." I lick my lips. "I mean, I'm hungry, but I don't know that I can eat breadsticks as well, even though they look absolutely delicious. That marinara dipping sauce?" I nod over to another table. "Well, I can smell it from here. It feels like I'm in Italy."
"Oh, you've been to Italy?" he asks.
"No," I say reluctantly, taking another bite of my pizza. "But not because I don't want to. It's definitely on my list of places to go."
"Oh? Anywhere in particular?"
"Well, I want to go to Roma and Sicily and Milan and Florence and Tuscany and..." I pause. "Well, almost everywhere in Italy, and then France and Greece and Spain and Portugal. Oh, and the UK, of course, and then Denmark, Sweden, Norway."
"Oh, so you want to go all over Europe." He looks impressed as he grabs another slice of pizza. "You're a Europhile?"
"I’m just a travelphile. I want to go all over Europe and then I want to go to Africa, North Africa, and mainland Africa. I have heard that the safari in Kenya and Uganda is amazing. And then I want to go gorilla trekking and maybe down to South Africa to see penguins. Even though I do want to go to Antarctica as well to see penguins, but that's so expensive and I don't know that..." I pause and sigh apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just rambling now."
"Not at all." He looks at me keenly. "So you are a travel bug, huh?"
“Not really, though I want to be." I sigh a long, deep sigh. "It's always been my dream to travel the world, but I haven’t really been anywhere yet." I wrinkle my nose. "It's on my list, but..."
"Your list?" he asks, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry, I know you mentioned it before, but I didn’t process what you were saying before.”
"Yeah, my dream goal list. I want to"—I hold up my fingers—"one, travel all around the world. Maybe take a year off and just see everywhere I can see. And then I would love to meet the man of my dreams and fall in love and have a fairy tale romance. And three, write a book about my travels and my love and have it become a bestseller and then a movie and..." I giggle again. "Well, you know. They say that you should dream big."
"Yeah." He nods. "So when are you going on this big adventure?"
"I don't know yet." I grab my wine and take another sip. "That's why I've been working so much. I'm trying to save money. The signing bonus from Whittaker will certainly help."
“Oh, the truth comes out.” he says with a mocking smile. "And that's why you work for me, then you work on the weekend, and what else?”
“I had a weekend job that I would start on Fridays,” I finally admit to him. “So no, I wasn’t going on a hot date.”
“Oh I see. Well good for you.”
"You know I lost that job." I scowl at him.
"Yes, I do. But at least you still work for me."
"I'm going to get another job. I had this idea where I'm going to be a photographer."
"Oh? Of babies? Weddings?" he questions.
"No, a professional selfie taker. Argh, that’s not the right name, but?—"
"Sorry, what?" He blinks at me. "A professional selfie taker? Maybe I’m not understanding what you mean by that.”
“Let me try and explain. You know when you go out and you see people taking selfies?"
"Yeah?"
"And you know how hard it is to get the right angles and the right light?"
"Not really." He shakes his head.
"Well, trust me, it's really hard, especially for a woman. Women know you hold the camera up and you look down. That way, you look slimmer. But a lot of men, they don't get it. And even friends who are haters don't get it. But as a professional selfie taker, I know the right angles to hold the camera."
"Okay, so you're going to take selfies with people?"
"No. Basically, people who are taking selfies, I will take the photo for them instead."
He looks confused, "So then it's not a selfie."
"Well, no, it's not a selfie because I'm not going to be in it, but I'm going to replace the selfie with my photography skills."
"Okay, cool. And what sort of camera are you using?"
"I'm not going to be using any professional camera. I'll be using their phones, but maybe I'll get one of those Polaroid cameras? But then you can't really do much with them and you can't really post those images online, which is primarily what a lot of people are taking selfies for, to post and show their friends and family. Look at the life I'm living. I'm living my best life. Be jealous." I bite down into my pizza again and lick my lips. "You know what I mean?"
"Not really. I don't take many selfies and I certainly don't post them on social media to say, 'Look at me. I'm living my best life.'"
"That's because you don't want all your women knowing that you're with another woman," I say, smirking as I sip my wine again. I watch as he picks up the wine bottle and empties the last of the Pinot Noir into my glass.
"Do you want another?"
"I shouldn't," I say as I nod.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"I shouldn't." I nod again.
"You shouldn't, but you're nodding."
"I'm saying I shouldn't, but get another bottle, Goofy," I say with a grin and he bursts out laughing.
"You're different when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I counter. "I am just tipsy."
"Well, you're different when you're tipsy."
"Don't think that means you're going to have your wicked way with me."
"I think we've already decided that neither one of us is going to have our wicked way with the other."
"I could totally have my wicked way with you if I wanted to," I say, leaning forward and reaching over. I press my finger against his lips and rub my thumb against his lower lip.
He stares at me, his blue eyes hardening. "What are you doing?"
"Just feeling your lips to see if they're as soft as they look."
"And are they?" he asks in a gruff voice.
"They feel soft, but I don't know if they would be soft to kiss," I lick my lips and swallow. My throat is dry.
"And is that something you want to find out?" His voice is soft, low and breathy.
"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'll find someone else to kiss tonight." I look around the restaurant. "There are a lot of cuties here."
"There are," he says, though he doesn't look around.
"Are you hoping to kiss a hot woman tonight?"
He shakes his head.
"There are plenty of good-looking women here," I say, staring toward the bar. There's a group of three women that keep looking at Kingston and they're kind of getting on my nerves.
"I'm sure there are," he says. Still, he doesn't look around."
"You're not even looking."
"I don't need to look," he says. "I'm here with you and we're enjoying pizza and wine and that's all that matters.
"Really? If I told you there was a hot brunette staring at you, looking like she wanted to eat you, you wouldn't want to know what she looked like?"
"Nope," he says, grinning. "Why? Are you telling me you want me to look? Are you telling me you want me to?—"
"I'm not telling you anything," I say. "I'm just saying…" I grin. "You're kind of cute when you're not being all bossy and annoying."
"Bossy and annoying, huh?" He smirks. "When am I bossy and annoying?"
"When we're in the office and you're telling me what to do."
"Oh, you mean when I am acting like your boss?"
"Yeah. You're bossy when you act like my boss and you can be grumpy. Shit, I didn't know men could be as grumpy as you."
"I don't think I'm grumpy. I just think?—"
"You're grumpy. Trust me." I laugh. "You know, this is really nice," I say sitting back, all of a sudden feeling nostalgic.
"What's really nice?"
"Just being here, eating pizza, drinking wine, hanging out. The evening started out kind of shit with Camden and if I'm honest, it didn't improve when I saw you."
“Thank you." He gives me a hurt look.
"Oh, come on now. After the conversation we had the other day?"
"I get it. You were like, 'Oh no. There's my jerk face of a boss.'"
"Exactly." I laugh. "But you were kind of cool telling off Camden and leaving Angelica in the restaurant." I give him a small smile. "And this place is cool and it's just nice chatting and…you know."
"And not trying to seduce each other," he says with a wink.
"And not trying to seduce each other," I agree, laughing. "You going to get that additional bottle of wine or what?"
"I've already nodded at the waiter and he's bringing one," he says with a smirk. "You just didn't notice."
"Oh, well, thank you."
"You're welcome. So you want to travel the world?"
"Yeah, I do. What about you? What are your dreams and goals?"
"My dreams and goals? Well, I want to have the most successful law firm in The City."
"You guys are practically there already,” I say.
"We are." He nods. "We're not number one yet, but if things keep going as they are, we will be."
"Is that really your only dream now?" I push, surprised. "To be successful at work?"
He stares at me for a couple of seconds. “Not really. When I was younger, I used to want to be in a rock band."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. To be clear this was when I was like fourteen years old and I thought I had an inkling of talent."
"You're telling me you're not talented?” She feigns shock. “I thought you were the second coming of Mick Jagger.”
"I'm telling you that I don't think I would've been the front man for a successful rock band."
"You're good looking enough to be the lead singer of a rock band," I say, checking out his handsome face. "Though, I guess you're more suited to being the lead in a film."
"You think I’m good looking?"
"You're all right," I say. "I mean, you have got the most mesmerizing blue eyes." I stare at him for a few seconds. "Like when people say they could swim in someone's eyes, I never really got it, but as I stare into your eyes, whoa. I feel like I'm in the Maldives or something just staring into the blue water."
"Really?" he says. "Thank you. I never expected such a compliment from you."
"Don't get used to it or anything. I'm just saying that you got nice eyes."
"Thank you," he says. "And you do as well."
"Thanks." I blink and then I blush, biting down on my pizza again. "I wonder if the chef is from Italy," I ponder, changing the subject because I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable.
The mood has shifted slightly. Staring into his eyes has made my heart start racing and my stomach is churning with butterflies and my skin feels hot. I don't want my skin to feel hot. My finger is still burning from when I touched his lips and I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel his body pressed against mine. I wanted to smell him. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. I wanted to feel him pressed against me.
I’m on fire and suddenly, I understand what he'd meant earlier. Suddenly, I understand what it is to have chemistry, to have passion with someone, to just want to feel their naked skin against yours without thinking about anything else.
I don't care about his intentions for our future. I don't care about whether he sees me as a woman he could marry or have a long-term relationship with. I just want to extinguish this fire. I just want to touch and taste and be consumed by him, and it’s something I've never felt before. I can feel my face going red as I stare down at his strong hands; hands I can feel pressed against my skin, massaging me, touching me, teasing me, taunting me, making me feel things that I haven't felt in a really long time.
"What are you thinking about, Skye?" he whispers in a low voice and I blink as I gaze up at him.
“You really want to know what I’m thinking about? What if it’s something you don’t want to know about?”
"Well, you've just been staring at me and your face is getting redder and redder and I was just wondering what you were thinking about."
"It must be the wine," I say quickly. "Wine always makes my face go red, you know?"
"Oh," he says. "It's not something that's on your mind?"
"What could possibly be on my mind that would make my face go red?"
"I don't know. I mean, maybe you're thinking about?—"
"I'm certainly not thinking about your hands or your lips on me. I'm certainly not thinking about how..." I pause, realizing that I've said way too much.
He's smirking now. "Where would you like my hands to be on you?"
"I don't want your hands on me anywhere," I say. “Sure, if you were to offer to give me a massage, I may say yes, but only because I've been so stressed out and you look like you have strong hands and oh my gosh, I need a massage so badly. I'm definitely carrying tension in my shoulders and my neck and?—"
"You want me to give you a massage?" he asks softly.
I blink at him, "What? You'd give me a massage? Really?"
"If you really desperately need one from me."
"I do," I say, not sure where the words are coming from. I do not desperately need a massage from this man. Definitely not. Definitely, definitely not. "I mean, if you think you give good massages," I say quickly.
"I've been told I give the best massages," he says softly as he licks his lips. "However, you would not be allowed to have clothes on."
"What?" I blink at him. “No clothes? Like naked naked?” My heart races at the thought of his strong warm hands on my bare skin. Naughty thoughts crash through my mind and I want to slap myself. I should not be enjoying thinking about being naked around my boss right now.
"The best massage is when you're naked. Just so you know, you'd be face down though, and we'd wrap a towel over your ass, so I'd only really be seeing your back…" He smiles, "And then I would put some essential oils on you and...well, I don't want to tell you everything I do. I don't want to ruin the surprise."
"The surprise?" I ask him.
"Yeah. That’s if you want a Kingston special, that is."
"A Kingston special." I take a sip of water. I know I'm playing with fire, but I can't help myself. "What's a Kingston special?"
"Let's just say it's the best massage you'll ever receive in your life."
"Really? You think you would give me the best massage I've ever received in my life?"
"I do think so, as a matter of fact, but it doesn't look like you really want one."
"Oh, I do," I say. "I really want one. But you don't think it would be kind of unprofessional for my boss to give me a massage?"
"I don't think it's unprofessional. Do you?"
I stare at him for a couple of seconds and every brain cell in my body is screaming at me, saying that getting a massage from this man would be the worst mistake of my life. "I don't think it would be a mistake, but I can't really have you come back to my place. Elisabetta would be like, 'What's going on?' and I don't really want to?—"
"You could come to my place," he says with a small smile. "I have a king-size bed. I can give you a massage there and then you can take a taxi home."
I blink at him. "Are you sure?"
"I mean, I feel partly responsible for all the stress that you're feeling right now." He gives me a warm smile. "I guess I should help get rid of it."
"It is partly your fault for being such a jackass to me and getting me so upset that I ended up losing my job and now..." I stare at him. "Si I guess if you think that you can give me a great massage, I'm not going to say no."
"Perfect," he says. "We'll take the wine with us to go."