Chapter 82
T hursday night came without any other news from Morgan, which told me that Edwin had either gotten better or there was just no news to speak of.
I didn’t really spend much time thinking about Edwin, anyways.
Removed from the presence of Morgan and the impact everything had on him, I just saw Edwin as a man who had led a life of greed, underhanded behavior, and poor decisions, and that was coming back to bite him.
Hopefully, in the last few months or years of his life, he could make amends for what he did.
But until he chose to sincerely and really apologize to me, I wasn’t going to waste my time thinking about Edwin Hunt in any fashion. Instead, I texted Layla over the ensuing couple of days, building up to our date on Thursday.
I was determined this time to act a little bit more boldly and a little bit more aggressively.
I was still going to try to abide by my “no alcohol, no sex” rule, almost because I knew skirting those rules would make things more erotic—there was something fun about pushing up on boundaries, shoving against them, but not actually doing anything about then.
But I also readily acknowledged that there was a very good chance that I was not going to be able to follow my own rules.
So it was that I stood outside the front door of her apartment, wearing a suit with a button down shirt. I had thrown on some nice cologne and a good watch as well; I wanted to woo her as if I were a supermodel coming to take her out for the night.
“Damn, Chance,” she said when she exited. She had on much more lipstick and makeup than before, and she looked hella sexy. I got hard on the spot, thought about just driving into her on the steps, and having some of the most intense, kinkiest public sex a couple had ever had.
Fortunately, I had just enough self-control to make sure I didn’t do something that crazy. Though I certainly gave it more thought than normal.
“What’s up, beautiful,” I said as I moved in to her.
When she came up to me and wrapped my arms around me, I think she might have been expecting just a hug, similar to how we had started our Monday morning date.
It made kissing her and sweeping her off her feet just that much more fun; that she wasn’t expecting it caused her to yip out and moan in surprise when I literally lifted her off the ground to kiss her.
“Now this is more like it!” Layla said. “This was the Chance I’ve been wanting to see.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more where that come from you haven’t seen yet,” I said, smirking as I called our Uber.
“And will I get to see more of it later tonight?”
I just batted my eyes and shrugged with my right shoulder.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I could see Layla narrowing her eyes, which was a great sign. If she’d taken such a statement as me keeping her away more, it would have been the worst kind of reaction possible. But if she was taking it playfully and cheerfully, then there may have yet been hope for the two of us.
When we got in the Uber, I spent so much time in her ear, whispering all sorts of flirtatious yet naughty things, that she couldn’t help but have her hand on the inside of my thigh, very far up my leg.
I didn’t quite get to the level of saying the kind of things I would in bed, but that was part of the fun—let it build up, let the tension rise, and then unleash it all at once…
Tonight, though?
You’re not doing a very good job of positioning yourself to follow your own rules.
Oh, well, it’s not like the end of the world if you don’t follow your own rules.
“Just you wait,” I whispered at one point. “By the end of the night, you’re going to be craving Chance Hunt unlike you ever have before.”
“Oh, goddamnit, Chance,” she said, her hand grasping my thigh tightly. “Don’t you dare tease me like that if you’re not going to deliver.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, putting my hand on her thigh, under her skirt, and tracing up… and up… and stopping just before I got to her underwear. “I think you’ll find that I’ll deliver just fine.”
At that, I motioned up to her and showed her where I was taking her.
It was Elmer’s Steakhouse, a five-star restaurant on the sixtieth floor of one of New York’s skyscrapers.
Layla’s eyes widened in surprise, first at me pulling away, and then at the gesture.
Elmer’s Steakhouse usually required months of reservations; let’s just say it was a real nice feeling to know that sometimes, the Hunt name came in quite handy.
I grabbed her hand and escorted her out of the car, letting her put her arm around mine as we headed to the elevator.
“Chance,” she said, practically gasping. “What changed? Why are you so much sexier and better now than Monday?”
I laughed at her bluntness.
“Don’t worry, I’m still going slow relative to what I want to,” I said with a wink. “But going slow doesn’t mean not going at all.”
As the elevator rose, Layla’s hands got more and more exploratory, running over my chest, my stomach, the area just above my junk… it was like she was taunting me, daring me to break my rule.
And what did I have to lose, really, if I violated the rule? I suppose I’d be going against my own self-control, which wasn’t necessarily a great feeling. I’d have to face up to some worse heartbreak if things didn’t work out. There was the risk I could hurt Layla in the process.
But the rewards that could have come…
Just moments before I grabbed her ass and squeezed, the elevator dinged, signaling it had arrived at the top floor.
“Let’s be good while we’re here, shall we?” I said.
“Never,” Layla said as she patted my ass.
“That a girl.”
We walked forward like just any other couple, the front waiter having no idea how, if the elevator ride had been five more floors, we probably would have been caught in the act already. I smiled, gave him the name, and he took us back to a private table overlooking Central Park from afar.
“Chance…” Layla said, gasping.
“Not too bad, huh?”
“Not only not too bad… I’ve never had a view like this before. Not a dinner like this.”
I smiled. There was probably some exaggeration with that, but now was not the time and place to correct her. Now was the time to just enjoy what I had.
Immediately, a waiter by the name of Francesca came forward and introduced herself.
“Can I interest you in some drinks?”
I eyed Layla, who eyed me back. My will to follow my first rule was diminishing by the second.
“Yeah,” I said with a groan, giving Layla a satisfied smirk. “Let’s do it. Give me a whiskey cocktail and a gin for the lady please.”
Francesca thanked us and headed out quickly, perhaps picking up on the tension between the two of us. Layla arched an eyebrow at me when I looked at her.
“You’re a very naughty boy for breaking your rule,” she said. “If you let me, I might just have to punish you later.”
“See,” I said, seizing the opportunity. “I know you think I’m at fault here, but in reality, you’re the one at fault.”
“Really.”
“Yes, you are simply too sexy to be ignored, and your beauty just compelled me to order a drink.”
I don’t think this is still going slow. I think this is going slow in the sense that speeding down the highway is slow compared to the speed of light.
Meh, whatever.
“Oh, then how will you ever stop?” she said. “I think I’m going to only get more beautiful the more liquor goggles you get.”
“Or,” I corrected. “You’re already so beautiful, blindingly so, and the only way for my eyes to adjust would be to have some liquor myself.”
“Or, your eyesight sucks, and you just need some liquor to settle it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as Layla also lost herself in laughter. It felt good to be in this setting without limitation. It almost made me forget about the fact that, in two days, I’d be out with Sarah.
But that was merely a glimmer in my mind.
As was the fact that, just on Monday, she had seemed so distant.
This is further evidence to go slow. You gotta ride out the highs and the lows to make sure you’re good fits for each other. Take your time, Chance.
Just… maybe enjoy some cocktails.
Francesca came back with our drinks and took our food orders, each of us getting some fish and asparagus.
The main highlight, though, was the drinks—we each dared each other after the previous round to have a drink, and it quickly became less of something to relax us and more of a dangerous, daring game.
Who would pull back first from drinking?
Who would get the other to the breaking point?
Not only did we violate my first rule, we outright flaunted it. We laughed in its face. We told each other that we’d have to face the equivalent of capital punishment for what we did.
It was only when I went to the bathroom or she did that I had a chance to settle my mind a bit. I’d given up on the idea of going slow, that was a given; I was more curious as to why.
Maybe Layla’s reaction on Monday had compelled me to be more cognizant about treating her well and giving her reason to like me.
Maybe my talk with Morgan that night had given me the drive to seize the moment.
Maybe Sarah’s arrival was pushing me to seal it with Layla so I wouldn’t have to face temptation.
Maybe I was just horny as hell.
By the first time Layla had gone to the bathroom, my mind was going a bit too fast for me to think clearly.
I wasn’t really able to think straight about it and consider the why.
That was something that would have to be saved until the morning.
Provided, of course, that Layla doesn’t bring something up herself.
The daring continued through the meal, at which point we had our fifth drink of the night. When Francesca put them out, she made a comment about us having fun, to which Layla said, “Do you see my man? Wouldn’t you want to?”
I laughed, but it was the sort of thing that could have signaled quite a bit. By “my man” did she mean she thought we were an item now? Or was it just a slip?