He slams the door closed and stalks across the room to me, standing right before me with his arms crossed in front of him.
“Are you on the ceiling? How did you do that?” I ask in wonder.
With a sigh, he leans forward, puts his hands under my back and lifts me upright.
The room spins a little and I sway in the chair as he takes the glass from my hand and sets it down next to the bottle on the coffee table with a clink.
With a groan, I push myself up from the chair and turn to face him, doing it as slowly as possible so I don’t tip over. After a few seconds of catching my bearings, I point at him and then the chair.
“You. Sit. Now.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I shiver with excitement.
“You’re not the only one who can order people around. Hurry up, before this buzz wears off and I lose my courage. I’m gonna give you the best lap dance of your life, buddy.”
Chapter 22: We Can Have Sex Now?
I’ve almost chewed my thumbnail completely off when twenty minutes have gone by and Vincent is still in the shower. Instead of immediately complying with my request to sit in the chair so I could get on his lap, he told me he needed to wash off from work first, and I almost started crying.
But then he told me not to move and he’d be back out soon. That man and I have seriously differing concepts of time. The good news about standing here next to the chair waiting for him is that I’ve had some time to sober up, thanks to the nerves eating away at all that alcohol in my bloodstream.
The bad news—I’ve had time to sober up and the nerves have eaten away almost all of my liquid courage.
Before I can contemplate locking myself in my room and pretending like I’ve passed out, I hear the bathroom door open and watch as Vincent emerges from the hallway.
Sweet mother of God . . .
Of course he had to change out of his jeans and T-shirt and put on my favorite pair of grey sweat pants and a clean shirt. His hair is still damp from the shower, and as his bare feet pad across the hardwood floor, my nerves start to switch over to desire.
I stare at him moving towards me like he’s a glass of water and I’m stranded in the desert. I even lick my lips and let out a soft moan when he gets to me and the smell of his soap overwhelms me.
“We can have sex now?” I ask him hungrily as I stare up into his eyes.
Oh, my God, Belle. You sound like that stupid meme of the cat with the cheeseburger. Why didn’t you just say “I can haz sex now” to solidify the fact that you’re an idiot?
“There’s a half-empty bottle of bourbon on my coffee table, and Cindy looked pretty sober when she left. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He dips his head down, sliding his cheek against mine until his lips are right by my ear.
“I’d like you to actually remember what I do to you,” he says softly, his warm breath tickling my ear and lighting up every nerve ending in my body.
All of a sudden, he takes a step away from me, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He punches some buttons, and a few seconds later, the strains of a soft, romantic song fill the room.
“Dance for me,” he orders, setting the phone down on the arm of the couch.
“Uh, what?” I ask nervously.
“I saw what you did to that chair,” he says with a twitch of his mouth, pointing to the chair behind him. “Now I want to see what you can do without it. Pretty simple.”
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God . . . THIS is what he considers simple?!
“Is this another lesson?” I whisper.
“Nope. This one’s for me.”
His words excite me more than I thought possible. This gorgeous man standing in front of me actually wants to watch me dance for him. And considering he so kindly gave me an orgasm in the library without getting anything in return, I do sort of owe him.
I nervously brush my hair out of my eyes and run my palms down the skirt of my dress.
“Okay. Dance. I can do this.” I speak the words softly, more to myself than to Vincent.
Nodding my head to the slow beat of the music, I start moving. First, my arms go out in front of me, one at a time. Then, I smack them down on each shoulder, one at a time. Next, each hand goes behind my head, and then down to my hips, which I proceed to shimmy and shake.