Tension dissipates, and I drag in the air that was stuck in my throat. This is an excellent step. Completely in the right direction. I smile. “Then cheer up. I bring advantages other than money and connections.”
She looks confused. “You do? Then why didn’t you list them at the dinner?”
“It…wouldn’t have been prudent.”
“Okay, so…?”
“I don’t snore. And I believe my performance in bed meets your satisfaction.”
Her mouth parts, her dark eyes glazing a bit. Gratification suffuses me as my body grows taut. Sexual need begins to thrum in my veins.
“After we move in together,” I say, “I’ll devote a considerable amount of time and energy to ensuring you enjoy the full benefit of both.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jo
I walk into my apartment on autopilot. My brain’s spinning at double speed to process the fact that I’m here alone. Edgar paid for dinner, drove me home, then got out to open my door and didn’t even try to come up. He didn’t even try to kiss me. And I was so sure he would.
So why didn’t he? Am I suddenly not hot? Or isn’t he going to do anything until I actually move in with him?
Maybe I gave out some kind of “you aren’t coming up to my place so don’t even think about it” vibe…?
Ack. Edgar’s so confusing!
But my reaction to him is even worse. My body’s buzzing, not with happy anticipation, but with a huge let-down. I realize I’ve been primed for…something…ever since he brought up sex. Our night together was perfect. It couldn’t have gone any better. Maybe I wanted him to not only kiss me but have an encore in one of the Aylster’s rooms.
Every muscle in my body clenches in frustration.
I slap my hands against the kitchen counter and let out a rough breath. I’m behaving like a nympho. I bet Edgar is driving back to his brother’s place, all calm and composed.
Pull yourself together, Jo. Sex is just sex.
But sex with Edgar is different. It’s more. A wall-toppling intimacy that’s simply…indescribable. The raw, lust-sharpened expression on his face when he was naked in bed with me…
I push away from the counter and start fanning myself. I should check my phone for anything urgent and then just go to bed. Maybe even use my vibrator to scratch the itch. It’ll be like settling for a burger when you want a steak, but it’ll have to do.
Nothing pops up from my clients on my phone. But… Wait. I have numerous texts from Aaron demanding I tell him what happened last night. Pssht. Whatever. I don’t want to ruin the few hours I have left in my weekend talking with him.
Instead, I turn to group texts from Hilary, Kim and Yuna.
–Hilary: Where are you?
–Kim: Aren’t you joining us for barre?
–Yuna: And the bar. I know you can’t drink, but I’m sure we can get something virgin for the non-virgin. And why do Americans call non-alcohol drinks “virgin” anyway? So weirdly sexual.
The texts came almost two hours ago. Crap. I totally forgot about it. I knew I had something to do today.
There are more an hour or so later.
–Kim: Are you coming to the bar?
–Yuna: Hilary got a big announcement. You’re going to miss it!
–Hilary: Don’t worry about it if you aren’t feeling well.
So like Hilary. She probably thought that was the reason, because I’ve never missed barre—or at least the post-barre bar—until now.