Chapter 17 Harrison
HARRISON
Damn it. I’m hard as a rock.
And these black slacks don’t hide a boner as well as jeans do.
I shift in my seat, hoping no one is looking as I discreetly tuck myself under the waistband of my underwear.
Fuck. Just being in Bianca’s presence turns me on. She even makes eating an oyster look sexy. And that little move just now, where she nibbled my earlobe in the middle of the restaurant… Holy shit.
Then it dawns on me.
Was that…an invitation?
I’ve been to Brassica a few times in the past. It’s a classy place.
Perhaps it’s the kind of restaurant where the bathroom stalls go all the way to the floor…
But… Bianca can’t possibly expect me to just waltz into the women’s restroom, stalls or otherwise. If the wrong person saw me, I’d be arrested on the spot. Hell, if I saw another man go into the bathroom after Bianca, I’d beat the shit out of him.
I could knock on the bathroom door…
But what if she didn’t mean to invite me?
I’ll look like a fucking creep.
And again, if someone else sees me, I’m done for.
Rock, meet hard place.
Emphasis on the “hard.”
Okay… What if the waiter came by our table, asked us what we wanted for our main course?
Bianca has to be back at Aces by eight, so it’s time sensitive.
I could text her.
But my phone could have died.
There we go.
It’s a flimsy-ass excuse, but it’ll do.
I stand up, subtly tucking my erection away as I do so, and saunter over to the door of the ladies’ restroom, knocking gently. “Bianca, you in there?”
No response.
I knock slightly louder. “The waiter asked about our next course. I know you have to be back by eight, so—”
A hand on my shoulder.
I turn around.
The beautiful Bianca Montrose reels me in for a kiss.
And every nerve in my body sparks to life at the touch of her lips to mine.
I break the kiss, my breath hitching. “You weren’t in the bathroom?”
She shakes her head coyly and then offers me her hand.
I take it. She leads me out the back door of the restaurant to a courtyard in the back where customers might dine al fresco in the warmer months.
It’s a quiet, enclosed garden, hushed beneath a thin blanket of snow.
Iron café tables and curved-backed chairs sit empty, and lanterns strung along the perimeter flicker behind frosted glass.
In the center of it all stands the courtyard’s focal point, a stone fountain shaped like an oyster shell.
How is there still snow this time of year? I’m about to ask the question out loud, but I find my answer in the long shadows cast by the setting sun. The courtyard is on the north side of the restaurant, so the snow—likely untouched since last fall—has been kept safe from the warmer sun of March.
Bianca’s cheeks pink at the cool winter air, and I can see her breath as it exits her nose, but she isn’t shivering. If she’s as warm as I am, then she doesn’t need a jacket.
She squeezes my hand and guides me to a large stone bench on the other side of the fountain. Snow has settled on the ivy-wrapped trellis above, and icicles hang from the bench’s edges.
Without a word, she starts unbuttoning my shirt.
I look over my shoulder. “Bianca, we can’t—”
She lays a finger over my lips, hushing me. Her eyes say it all—she wants the danger, the possibility of getting caught.
And damn it all. I’m even harder now.
She finishes unbuttoning my shirt and brushes it off my shoulders. My nipples harden against the chilled air, but I don’t feel cold in the slightest.
She hangs my shirt on a nearby lantern and then gets down on her knees.
“Bianca—”
She shoots me another look to tell me to keep quiet, and then with one deft move unbuttons my slacks, pulls them down, and pops my cock out from my boxer briefs.
I’m cold for a moment, but then she takes my cock into her warm mouth, licking its head before sucking up and down the shaft.
I instinctively look over my shoulder again, but then—
The thrill of the moment hits me.
Anyone could walk in at any minute.
And that’s really fucking hot.