42. Gwen
forty-two
Gwen
Present
The speed at which my heart races in my chest should be concerning. It hasn’t stopped galloping since Lance texted he was on his way, and that was thirty minutes ago.
“Get a grip, Gwen.”
I’ve never been so nervous about a first date before. Like, vomit-inducing butterflies that won’t stop swirling in my stomach. It’s silly, considering I’m married to Lance and we’ve already had sex. Mind-blowing, out-of-this-world sex. But still.
This date is different. It marks the beginning of a new era in our relationship.
As if to make a point, light reflects off the ring on my finger, catching my eye. As he requested, I’m wearing it on my hand and not around my neck.
I stare at the pink diamond in wonder. Wearing this. Going out in public.
There’s no more hiding. Everyone will know. My family will know.
With a deep inhale and exhale, I tie the satin sash around my waist into a bow and take one last look in the mirror, twisting side to side.
Makeup: natural, but gently bronzed and highlighted.
Hair: curly and pinned back on one side.
Outfit: simple and sexy.
After what felt like a hundred outfit changes, because I was a nervous, sweaty wreck, I finally landed on a blush pink maxi skirt with a slit that starts mid-thigh, a silk white crop tube top, and sandals with straps that twist around my ankle and calves.
My intercom buzzes, and those pesky butterflies in my stomach flutter again. I let Lance up and wait by the door, fidgeting with the pink diamond ring on my finger.
The elevator dings, and Lance steps out. An unexpected ache between my legs has me squeezing my knees together.
Lance is so freaking hot. Like, just-stepped-out-of-a-magazine hot.
But it’s not just his rugged good looks and rock-hard body. He has this aura about him that’s calm, confident, and secure. No matter what he wears, that aura rolls off him in waves and pulls you in.
Tonight Lance is wearing a white button-up shirt rolled to his elbows, dark-gray dress slacks with a black belt around his trim waist, and matching leather dress shoes. His blond hair is a little longer on top than usual, but I like it.
When I finish checking him out, I find that I’m not the only ogler.
Lance’s blue eyes drift over my body in a heated caress.
The lump in his throat bobs as he swallows. “Damn, you look gorgeous.”
My cheeks flame at his compliment as he leans in and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to my forehead, cheek, and lips, stealing my breath.
“Thank you,” I exhale, sounding wispy and lightheaded. I can’t help fiddling with the bow on my skirt. “You clean up nicely, as well.”
“Thank you. Are you ready to go?”
“Do you want to come in first?”
His pupils dilate, but he shakes his head, declining my offer. “Not tonight. I promised you a date first, and if we don’t leave, I can’t be trusted not to strip you down, bend you over the couch, and fuck you.”
Memories of this morning float to the surface, and the ache between my legs throbs heavy and tight with desire. A fierce hunger swirls in my belly, and it isn’t for food.
At the thought of food, my stomach vocalizes its hungry existence with a loud growl.
“I think that’s your stomach telling us food first.” He chuckles.
“Food first,” I confirm.
Lance extends his elbow out, allowing me to hook my hand in the crease, as he leads me into the elevator and out of my apartment building. Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for me, helping me inside before getting in on his side.
The drive to the restaurant is smooth sailing, which is rare for LA at night mid-week. Our conversation flows as we each fill the other in on our day.
When we arrive at the restaurant, Lance ignores the valet attendant and rushes out of the car to open my door himself. He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leads us to the entrance.
A cheerful hostess dressed in all black, with red-painted lips and a tight bun, greets us and immediately guides us to our table.
I take in the rustic and modern steakhouse as we walk through the large, warm space. It’s all reclaimed wood and black metal finishings, and smells incredible. My mouth waters just thinking about food.
The hostess points to the booth facing the kitchen. “This is you. Your server will take your order shortly.”
“Thank you.” Lance nods.
“The chef’s tasting table, huh?” I ask, slipping into the booth.
“Only the best for you.” Lance winks as he slides into the spot beside me.
“Smooth.”
“I thought so,” Lance says, amused by my observation. He lifts his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer to his side. His citrus and pepper cologne fills my nose, making me dizzy.
Ignoring the way his nearness sends my body reeling, I pick up the menu and study it, while Lance studies me and not the menu.
“What are you getting?” I ask.
“Same as usual. The signature roasted beef Wellington.” He spins one of my curls around his finger. The spot on my head where my roots meet my scalp tingles, sending shivers down my spine.
“Come here a lot?” It’s taking everything in me not to grab Lance by the collar and kiss him.
“This is Reed’s favorite place. He drags us here all the time.”
“Ah.”
The server arrives and, like Lance, I order the Wellington with roasted vegetables, potato puree and red-wine demi-glace sauce, and a glass of Pinot Noir.
I place my hands on the table. Lance reaches over and runs his thumb over the gemstone. “You’re wearing it.”
“You said you wanted me to. Should I not have?”
With his thumb and forefinger, Lance tilts my chin up. Blue eyes, so rich in color and depth, find mine. “No. You should. No more taking it off. You hear me?”
The air crackles with electric energy, and Lance’s irises darken. A storm brews behind his indigo gaze. I reach out and grip his wrist like an anchor, steadying myself in their destructive wake.
“Gwen.” The growled command to answer vibrates between my legs.
“I hear you.” My answer is a whimpered plea. “I won’t take it off.”
“Good.” He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, and I match the movement.
The bustling restaurant, the people, the entire world, everything around us melts away as we stare at one another. A voracious wave of lust washes over me, and my nipples harden to painful points beneath my bra as my brain pleads for him to kiss me.
“Your dinner,” the server says, popping our bubble.
Lance keeps his gaze locked on me as he thanks the server and dismisses him.
“Lance?”
He shakes his head. “Eat your dinner, my little witch.”
“Okay.”
I channel the hunger simmering in my belly to the food on my plate, fully aware of Lance’s gaze on my mouth as I eat.
Throughout dinner, the tension between us remains thick, almost tangible. An invisible erotic force between our bodies. My poor body and I are no match for Lance’s raw sexual magnitude.
I blame my hormones. They know not what they do to me in his presence.
By the time my belly is full, I’m a bundle of nervous energy. My skin feels tight and itchy, ready to burst at the seams.
I throw my napkin on the table with a sigh, and Lance covers his mouth with his fist, stifling his chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” I huff.
“Now you know how I feel,” he says.
“What?” I whip my head in his direction.
“I’ve been suffering from the same frustration for months now.”
“You have?”
“Why do you think I swim so much?”
“Because it’s part of your training?”
Lance laughs. “No, baby. It’s keeping me and my dick tired and in line.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Lance pulls out a wad of cash and drops five one-hundred-dollar bills onto the table. “Let’s get out of here. I have one more stop before I take you home.”
Extending his hand, I reach out and take it, letting him lead me out of the booth and the restaurant.
At the curb, while we wait for the valet to bring the car, Lance pulls me into his arms. My head falls back so I can look him in the eye.
“Are you having a good time?”
I place my hands on his broad chest, searching for his steady heartbeat beneath my palm. “The best.”
A wide smile fills his handsome face. Unable to hold back any longer, I lift onto my toes and kiss him. His lips are soft and cradle mine with the tenderest of touches.
Needing more, I slip my hands behind his head and tug his face to mine, kissing him harder.
As one, our mouths part and our tongues meet in a sensual swirl.
Lance tilts my head to the side, deepening our kiss, as he tightens his grip and pulls me closer. His hard cock presses into my lower stomach. I moan, arching into his shaft, making him grunt. The sweet vibrations on my tongue travel down the length of my body and settle between my legs.
My head spins and my knees wobble, but my dirty knight is right there with me, holding me up and kissing me with everything he has, same as when he kissed me on the streets of New York City.
Also, like then, this kiss has me ignoring my head and following my heart. And just like last night, I grasp onto the emotions I’ve been ignoring for so long and let them lead.
“So, what do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thought so.” My date shoots me a cheeky grin as he hands me the oversized, pink stuffed panda and hooks his arm around my shoulders, leading me away from yet another carnival game he’s beaten.
Lance’s last stop was a walk down the Santa Monica Pier and a quick stop at the amusement park. This part of the date is not what I would expect from him, but it’s turned out to be amazing. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.
I love seeing this lighter, more relaxed side of him. It reminds me of when we skipped out of the club. Ready for an adventure. No plan, just fun.
“What’s next on the agenda?” I ask Lance, clutching the panda with one arm and wrapping the other around his waist.
We started out on the Ferris wheel for the view, which we missed because we ended up making out like teenagers the entire time. Then I watched him win every game he played and give his winnings to children passing by.
Except for the pink panda. That’s mine.
Lance stops and faces me, trapping the stuffed bear between us. He brushes a curtain of curls behind my ear, grazing my skin. At his touch, goosebumps pimple the skin along my neck and arm. “Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Name it, and it’s yours.” His lips find my forehead, and I swoon, legs shaky and heart racing.
“You have got to stop telling me that.” I sigh, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Never.”
“Giving me whatever I want might get you into trouble one day,” I warn.
“I think I can handle that. One more game?”
“My choice?”
“Your choice.” Lance smirks.
I’ve been paying attention, and there is one game he’s been avoiding. “In that case, I choose the Hoop Shot.”
Lance’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Hoop shot, really?”
“You’ll see.” I slip out of his arms, stepping backward. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little basketball.”
“Talking smack already.” Lance lunges forward, scooping me and the panda into his arms, and carries me to the free-throw booth.
He places me on my feet and takes the panda, setting it on the ground. “Show me what you’ve got, little witch.”
Lance pays, and the attendant hands me the ball.
I stare at the hoop, mentally calculating the distance, as Lance stands just out of the way, his hip resting against the railing, with his arms crossed and a rather amused look on his face.
My grin can’t be contained. “No being a sore loser, okay?”
“Just shoot the ball.”
“Fine.” I inhale a deep breath and, with my exhale, I shoot.
At the peak of my jump, I release the ball, flicking my wrist just right so the ball rolls off my fingertips, creating the perfect backspin.
The ball floats through the air in a perfect parabola, falling perfectly through the hoop with a swish of the net.
“Your turn.”
Lance shakes his head with a laugh, as if he already knows how this is going to go down. “Hand me the ball.”
He misses his first two shots, but makes the third, while I sink all three of mine.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I think I got swindled.”
“Maybe a little,” I admit, holding up my thumb and forefinger.
I pick out my prize, a small stuffed basketball, and hand it to Lance. “I should have mentioned that I played basketball in high school, huh?”
Lance chuckles, throwing his arm over my shoulder again, leading me away from the kiosk. “Your family owns a baseball team; shouldn’t you have played softball or something?”
I shrug. “Probably, but basketball was a winter sport, and since it didn’t conflict with the Evaders baseball season, my dad attended a lot more of my games.”
Admitting that I chose a sport based on my dad’s availability makes me sad. Constantly vying for his attention and approval is exhausting.
All that, and look where it’s got me. I haven’t spoken to my father in weeks. He hasn’t called to apologize or talk things out. He doesn’t know anything about my life.
About me.
If I think about it, I don’t think my father knows me at all. He might have been present physically, but emotionally? He was distant. The Evaders always came first.
Tears prickle my eyes, and my nose stings.
Lance shakes my shoulders, forcing me out of my trance. His blue eyes are filled with worry as he searches my face. “Where’d you go right now?”
“Sorry.” I sniffle, swallowing the lump of sadness in my throat.
“I just realized I haven’t spoken to my dad in weeks.
He hasn’t called, texted, nothing. It’s always me keeping in touch.
It’s like he doesn’t see me unless I’m standing in front of him, and even then, I don’t think he knows anything about me. ”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Lance wraps his thick arms around me, hugging me tight to his body.
He holds me until his strength and warmth penetrate my skin and dig deep below the surface.
When we separate, he cups my cheeks in his large palms. “I hate that you feel this way. I know how deep it cuts when your dad doesn’t see you.
But that’s on him. He’s the one missing out.
You’re amazing, Gwen. You’re kind, driven, determined, and far stronger than people give you credit for.
So, fuck him. You’re going to prove him wrong one way or another. I believe in you.”
No one, not even my mom or Juju, has looked at me or believed in me the way Lance does. He sees every part of me and accepts all the pieces without conditions.
“Thank you.” My heart expands with something akin to love inside my chest. The sensation is warm and tingly, and downright terrifying. But I know without a doubt …
I have completely fallen head over heels for my husband.
And it’s the best feeling I’ve ever experienced.