Chapter Ten
Aubrey
Ursa Minor was like the cooler younger sister of some of the more established fine-dining restaurants in Philly.
Instead of a stripped-down modern aesthetic, splashes of color greeted you in every direction, from the mosaic tile flooring to the graffiti-stained glass windows and the mismatched velvet chairs at every table.
Upbeat music spilled from the speakers, and the rest of the decor gave off a retro feel that made me want to dance.
The Midtown Village spot was busy for a Wednesday, which made it perfect for subtle reconnaissance. Jillian had learned who a handful of the other catering competition applicants were, and I figured getting a feel for their food might be helpful.
Plus, eating incredible food from other chefs was the best inspiration out there. Not just by learning from what they did well but by imagining what I might do differently.
It was part of what I missed about working in the same kitchen as Jase—working alongside him made me better.
Cool air kissed my spine as I slid off my leather jacket and placed it in the circular booth.
My dress was long-sleeved with a low back that showed off the tattoos along my spine and hugged my hips before ending mid-thigh.
It was pink and shimmery too, which made it a favorite for nights like this.
I wore loose black pants and a boxy white jacket as a uniform sixty hours a week; any opportunity to glamour out and feel like Barbie, I took full advantage of.
As I turned to sit, Gabe emerged from the crowd with our drinks. His gaze locked on me, roaming the full length of my body, down my bare legs to my heels, his throat moving on a swallow.
My skin heated, but not with self-consciousness. I liked the way he looked at me.
I liked looking at him too.
His usual sweats and workout clothes were gone, replaced with the sexiest-fitting Henley I’d ever seen and a snug pair of black jeans to match.
Add to that the scent he brought with him as he slid into the booth, and it was enough to make goose bumps erupt along my body.
The smell of something clean layered with something masculine. Sandalwood maybe.
Whatever it was, I breathed it in, and my tongue went heavy with the urge to lick. I forced down a groan.
I wasn’t supposed to want to lick him. We were here as friends and friends only. A mutual exchange of helpful contributions to each other’s business ventures.
This was not the time for my horniness meter to skyrocket into the red.
“What’s the verdict on the food?” he asked, stretching one arm across the back of the booth and taking his drink with the other. It shouldn’t have been attractive, but it was.
Everything about the way he moved was. Like he was swimming through air, effortless and confident yet smooth and controlled. I wanted to curl up with a pillow and watch him do it naked.
Which was another temptation I needed to rein in. No licking and no naked thoughts. Just focus on the food.
I turned my attention to the card stock, skimming over the words I’d already studied on the website. “The menu looks fun. Some of their flavor combinations will be interesting.”
“What should we order?” He shifted closer to look at the menu, and his hand brushed my leg.
I stiffened.
“Shit, sorry,” he said, snatching it away.
“No, I—” I swallowed against the sparks still firing through my body from the touch. “It’s fine.”
My voice was too tight. Too strained. I tried to relax, but it was as if someone had turned me into a wind-up doll and cranked me to my limit.
Being here with Gabe felt different, and not just because of our clothes. The restaurant itself was sexy: the lighting dim but warm, the music sensual with a steady bass, and the booth small enough to feel private. All of it charged me to the point of shocking anything I touched.
I’d never felt this electric with anyone. Definitely not Patrick, who had been as timid at initiating sex as I was. So much so we’d waited a whole year into our relationship before actually fucking.
Not that the word “fucking” really fit. The sex between Patrick and me had been as measured and predictable as the rest of our relationship. Which, in fairness, was exactly what I’d liked about it.
Patrick had come into my life right after my grandma had died when my world had become untethered.
He’d been the accountant in charge of Nana’s finances and helped me manage it all in the months after she was gone.
When he’d expressed an interest in more, I’d clung to it.
Moving through life back then had felt like sitting in a spinning teacup that kept going faster and faster, and for three years, he was the stable fixture I held on to.
I felt untethered in a different way now, craving the experience of a fuller kind of sex. As if for years, I’d been buckled into a skydiving plane, and I was finally ready to jump. What I still needed was someone to jump with.
Trying a random hookup hadn’t worked. The bar Kelly had chosen for our night out was sexy too, but talking to that guy had left me the opposite of charged.
I ran my fingers along the smooth edge of my glass as my mind spun, letting my metallic press-ons catch the light. I never wore nail polish in the kitchen for risk of it chipping into the food, but my nails deserved to feel pretty during my off hours too.
I cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Gabe said, setting aside his drink. “Anything.”
“Have you ever had sex in a public bathroom?”
His brows jumped before his lips curved with amusement. “Yes.”
I didn’t imagine it. Didn’t picture him locked in a tight space, rushing to undo his fly as legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer.
Didn’t see his hands shove up a skirt and tug panties aside, his every movement frantic with need and the risk of being caught.
I definitely didn’t imagine it was my legs around his waist or my skirt he bunched.
“I’ve never understood what’s sexy about it,” I said, though that might not have been true anymore.
He nodded in understanding, then studied the table as if deciding how to respond.
After a moment, he leaned in close. “It’s not the bathroom itself that’s sexy,” he explained, voice low and full in my ear.
“It’s the urgency. The being so consumed by another person that you can’t wait long enough to get somewhere more comfortable or private.
The feeling you’ll die if you don’t have them then and there, on the nearest surface, and knowing they need it just as bad.
It’s not caring that everyone else in the building will probably know you’re fucking, because fucking each other is the only thing that matters. ”
I tried to breathe and couldn’t. My body had drawn so tight there was no room for air in my lungs. I waited for him to continue, to give me more glimpses at the type of sex I wasn’t sure really existed, but he didn’t. His eyes caught mine in their snare.
“I’ve never felt that way before,” I managed shakily.
His gaze flashed to my lips so quickly I might have imagined it. “What about with your exes?”
“There’s only one. We weren’t big on PDA.” No way Patrick or I would have gone for bathroom sex when we were together.
A corner of Gabe’s mouth tipped up. “No bathroom sex. No New Year’s kisses. What was he big on?”
I stared at his lips as our New Year’s kiss flashed through my mind. I could hardly remember who Patrick was, though I still felt a need to defend him. “It wasn’t all him. I didn’t push for more either.”
“Did you ever want to?” Gabe asked as if it wasn’t completely bizarre we were talking about this. More bizarre was how easy it felt.
Sex wasn’t something I talked about much, even with Evan. He and I discussed our love lives plenty, but not to this degree. I could see myself eventually trying with Dani or even Kelly, but not yet. Sharing it with Gabe was a relief.
“Maybe,” I answered but knew in my gut it wasn’t right. “Yes,” I corrected. “Or I would have, except…I didn’t really like sex with him much.” Guilt bubbled up at admitting it out loud.
“Why not?” There was no judgment in Gabe’s voice, only curiosity.
I studied the coral-pink color of my drink. “I’m not sure. I think I didn’t know what I liked and was never fully comfortable to figure it out.”
“Seems like you two didn’t have much of a physical connection, huh,” he asked gently, as if I might be sad over it.
Maybe I was. Sad that Patrick and I had been closer to friends than anything else. We’d cared about each other deeply, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever truly desired one another.
But also sad we hadn’t. Sad we’d spent so long together despite missing something so obvious.
“He gave me a lot of what I needed back then, which I’m grateful for,” I said. “But I think I’m realizing how much I need something different now.” Something I’d only become aware of after Gabe walked into my kitchen on New Year’s Eve.
I found his gaze. The blue of his eyes caught me off guard every time, as clear and crisp as the sky.
They contained something else at the moment, an intensity I couldn’t look away from, making that same something grow and expand inside me until it had wrapped me up completely and sent my body spinning.
This time, I let myself imagine what it would be like if his hand shifted to graze my knee.
How the touch would shoot sparks up my leg.
How his fingers would tighten a fraction, maybe intentionally, maybe a reflex, before he trailed them up my thigh.
I could hear my own gasp slip through my lips as I shifted in my seat, hitching my skirt an inch higher.
His pinky would tease the newly exposed skin, then pass below my skirt, drawing my nipples tight.