He's reached the edge of my panties now, and I squirm, wanting him to continue yet desperate for him to stop.
"Hands on the table, baby. Close your eyes. I'm going to make you come."
His words ricochet through me, and my core clenches. I want release. I want to spin out of control. But not here. Not with all these people.
"Mine, baby," he presses. "That was the deal."
"No," I whisper, pulling my thighs together, trying to quell the ache. "Someone will see."
"Let them." He brushes a kiss over my ear, making me shiver. "They'll never know for sure."
Even with my legs so together, his fingertip finds my clit. I swallow a gasp, lost in the fire of sensation. The truth is, I do want to slide down deep into passion. I want his touch, his power. I want him to take me over the edge right here, right now. A secret that only we share, and the fact that we're in public makes it that much more exciting.
But not like this. Not like a reproach. Like a goddamn challenge.
I slide to the far side of the bench, trying to escape both Blake and my own traitorous desire.
"Is this what you're after?" My words, though harsh, are pitched low. "To break me? To make me lose control in the middle of a goddamn restaurant? Is that what you want?"
I expect him to deny it. To say nice words about the attraction between us. About wanting to touch me, needing to feel me.
Instead, he simply says, "Yes."
"You son of a bitch." I start to leave the booth. "Fuck that, and fuck you."
He grabs my arm. "Wait. Penny, I'm sorry. Please, just wait."
I hesitate. The truth is, I want what he is offering. Just not the way he's offering it.
"I'm listening."
He drags his fingers through his hair. "I was so goddamn frustrated when you walked away after Chicago. I'd played it all out in my head--the week in Hawaii, everything that came after. And then suddenly that dream--that possibility--was ripped out from under me."
"I--"
"Let me finish. I was pissed. Partly at myself for falling hard and fast. But mostly at you, for making me believe that something I knew in my gut was real, was just smoke and mirrors."
Tears prick my eyes. "But how could I know it was real that fast? How could you?"
"At first, I didn't. I thought I was a damned idiot. I missed you so much it was like a physical ache, but how could I miss something I never really had? Like you said, it was fast. Just one night. But the longing lingered, and I realized that it wasn't a question of time, but of quality. And we'd shared more--loved more--in those twenty hours than I ever had before."
I nod, my heart twisting in my chest. I understand completely. Hadn't I felt exactly the same from the moment I walked away?
He rubs a hand over his forehead. "So that's it," he says. "That's my apology. And yes, part of me wanted to punish, because when you walked away, you shattered something inside of me. But more than that, I want to know that even if it was just for a fleeting moment, once upon a time you were really, truly mine."
I am. I want to scream the words, but I can't. Not yet.
"Did you come to the office expecting to see me?"
He shakes his head. "No. I assumed you were still living in Los Angeles, but I didn't know where you were working." His mouth quirks up. "I almost looked you up, but I didn't want to see if you were in a relationship with somebody. Easier to just not know."
"I'm not," I whisper. "I haven't been."
He holds my eyes. "Me, neither."
For a moment, we just look at each other, but then I have to look away, overwhelmed by the pressure building inside me. I take a sip of water, but it does little to cool the heat that is now flooding through me.
"You didn't seem surprised to see me," I say, because right now talking seems safe.