7. Naomi
NAOMI
At five minutes until six, I catch sight of Wyatt’s SUV rolling up the street just as I’m digging in the depths of my closet for the one pair of heels that don’t make my toes beg for mercy. The glossy black SUV has zero bumper stickers, tinted windows and matches Wyatt perfectly.
I give my reflection one final glance. My hair is curly and big, as controlled as it's going to get.
The dress is a deep green, just shy of scandalous but not so fancy that I look like I'm trying to impress a board of directors. My makeup features a dramatic eye because why the hell not, and I have on a little more lipstick than I usually wear. Tonight, is all about seducing Wyatt. I’m tired of waiting for him to make the first move.
I feel the panic starting to rise but I push it aside telling myself to trust my feelings for Wyatt. I stare myself down in the mirror, give my boobs a pep talk, and decide not to care if my curves poke out of my tight dress.
There’s a loud knock on the front door and I take a deep breath before pulling it open.
My girly parts wake up when I see Wyatt standing there.
He’s traded his usual black t-shirt for a dark blue button up that makes his eyes look feral, and his tight dress pants hug his muscular thighs perfectly.
He’s holding a single red rose which turns my insides to goo.
“Wow,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. The word wraps around my brain, sending a shiver down my spine that lands right between my thighs. His eyes darken like a storm cloud ready to burst, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating off him from three feet away. “You look stunning, Fever.”
I take the rose he’s holding out, my fingers brushing against his, and the contact is electric. I bring the flower to my nose, inhaling its scent, but all I can smell is him. I feel my cheeks flush like a freaking schoolgirl. “Thanks,” I manage to choke out, embarrassed to hear my voice trembling.
“If you’re good,” he murmurs, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my lips, “you’ll get the other eleven later tonight.
” His voice is a promise, a threat, an invitation to sin.
My heart skips a beat, and I can feel my panties getting damp just thinking about what “later tonight” might entail.
“I plan to be very good then,” I purr, giving him a wink that’s more of a promise than a tease. Before he can respond, I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me. Our lips crash together like two whirlwinds colliding, and the world around us disappears.
His mouth is hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
I can taste the faint hint of mint, and something darker, something primal on his breath.
Before I know it, his hands are everywhere.
There’s one tangling in my hair while the other grips my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
I press myself against him, feeling the hard line of his cock through his dress pants, and a moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
He growls into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like an earthquake. His hands slide down to my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, and I can’t help but grind against him, desperate for more friction.
Luckily, Wyatt has enough sense left to pull back before we get caught practically having sex on my mother’s porch. Again. “Why don’t we finish this later when we have some privacy?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I manage to mutter as he offers his arm. Pretending I’m not trembling as I take it is nearly impossible.
The inside of Wyatt’s SUV is exactly what I pictured. The pristine black leather interior smells just like Wyatt. There are zero fast-food wrappers and zero mess. The only thing out of place is a battered copy of The Stand on the passenger seat, which he shoves into the console as I climb in.
As he pulls away, he says, “My cousin tells me The Broadway Steakhouse is the best place in town. You okay with steak?”
“Is there a human alive who isn’t?” I ask, instantly regretting how eager I sound.
He grins. “You’d be surprised.” He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His posture is relaxed, but I can tell he’s hyperaware of everything.f
“I missed seeing you last night.” Last night was my typical night off while he worked a “private” event. Needless to say, I didn’t get much done except missing him too.
I’m about to lie, but then I see the tiny up-tick of his eyebrow in the rearview, and I can’t.
“I missed you, too.” He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips for a soft kiss.
“I’ve been counting the minutes until our date.
This is the most nervous I’ve been since my first commercial audition. ”
“Me, too.” He laughs, deep and real. “What was the commercial for?”
I hesitate as my face heats. “Tampon ad. I didn’t book it.”
“Crime against humanity.” He says it with such conviction I nearly snort. “I bet you would have crushed it.”
“Maybe. But they said I had too much, uh—” I gesture vaguely at my hips and chest.
He glances over, not even pretending to be subtle. “They must have been blind. Or just plain fucking stupid.”
It’s so ridiculous I actually do snort this time, which breaks the tension.
He drives thorough town drumming the wheel with two fingers. I relax a little until we pull up outside the fancy restaurant.
The Broadway Steakhouse seems to be the place to be tonight. The parking lot is crowded and there’s a line waiting for the valet.
Once we finally get to the front of the line, Wyatt comes around and helps me out of the SUV.
We walk up to the front door holding hands discussing what we’re going to have for dinner.
Inside, the hostess wears a black sheath dress and an expression that could cut glass.
She clocks Wyatt instantly and her eyes go all soft. “Good evening, May I help you?”
“Reservation for Byrne,” he pulls me closer wrapping me in his warmth. She leads us to a corner table and waits for Wyatt to pull out a chair for me before laying two menus on the table in front of us. She gives us a tight smile before quickly disappearing.
A waiter appears with glasses of water and a basket of bread. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
Wyatt nods. “Perfect.”
My mouth waters just looking at the menu. Wow. I have no freaking idea what to order, “What do you recommend?”
Wyatt leans in, his voice low. “Go for the ribeye. It’s huge, with the perfect marbling, and a buttery texture.”
“Sounds perfect,” I close my menu and lay it on the table.
When the waiter returns, Wyatt orders for both of us, which should piss me off, but doesn’t. He looks to me for confirmation, and I give a smile. “Rare,” I say. “Make it moo.”
This earns a genuine, dazzling smile, and my heart does something stupid.
Once we’re alone, Wyatt says, “So how did you spend your night off last night?”
I take a deep breath and blurt out the truth. “Daydreaming about our date.”
He stares into my eyes and I swear the air around us fills with electricity. “Me, too.”
Needing to change the subject before we self-combust on our shared lust, I ask him. “My sister is dying to know if Steel Pulse is as insane as everyone says?”
He sits back and takes a sip of his wine. “Worse. I once had to drag the lead singer out of a hotel laundry chute because he thought it would be ‘hilarious’ to pop out naked during a press event.” He shakes his head. “I spent ten years getting paid to be invisible and terrifying at the same time.”
“Sounds…pretty awful,” I say, before I can stop myself.
He meets my gaze, and there’s something raw there, something he doesn’t show other people. “It was.”
There’s a pause, but not an awkward one. More like we both need to let the gravity of that settle.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he changes the subject. “Tell me one secret you’ve never told anyone else.”
I stall, caught off guard and trying to find something to lighten the sexual tension swirling around us. “Wow. Uh… okay. When I was nine, I accidentally set my neighbor’s deck on fire trying to grill Pop-Tarts. I blamed it on my little sister for three years.”
He laughs, loud and real, and I decide right then that I’d grill Pop-Tarts with him any day.
“Your turn,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate. “I once body-slammed a fan into a decorative fountain at Caesar’s Palace because he called my mom a whore.” He shrugs. “Still not sorry.”
I burst out laughing. “Good. He deserved it.”
The food arrives, and the steak is truly huge. Wyatt watches me take the first bite, his eyes hungry in a way that has nothing to do with meat. I moan a little, which is half-performance, half-orgasmic, and his jaw tightens. He looks like he’s ready to devour me whole which isn’t a bad thing.
Conversation flows as we share stories while devouring the perfect ribeyes. At one point, our hands brush across the table, reaching for the same piece of bread, and neither of us moves away. His thumb traces slow circles on the back of my hand, and I have to concentrate to remember how to breathe.
I don’t even notice how late it’s gotten until the waiter comes by to say they’re closing up soon.
Wyatt glances at me, and for a second, I think he’s going to suggest we go home separately. Instead, he says, “I’m not ready for the night to end. Are you?”
My pulse stutters. “Not even close. I want my other eleven roses.”
He throws down his Amex and leaves a tip that would make my mom faint. “They’re waiting for you at my house. Want to come back to my place and we can watch a movie and find your roses?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I’d agree to just about anything right now.
Outside, the air is cool, and he puts his arm around me as we walk to the car. He opens the door for me, and as I slide in, I catch him watching me with that hungry, possessive look again.
I’m in so much trouble here but I don’t care. Wyatt Byrne already owns me heart and soul. Now, I just have to hope he feels the same way.