The Match

He presses his mouth to mine, the taste of my juices still on his lips. “Now, if I tell you that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

With both of his hands gripping my shoulders, he holds me in place, making my head spin when he kisses me. His tongue tangles with mine, the passion behind each kiss so overwhelming. When our mouths finally separate, I have trouble catching my breath. In awe of this man, I am speechless of the power his kiss has over me. And once he takes a step back and locks eyes with me, he leaves me wanting more.

“Ava,” he says, snapping me out of the trance he has me under, summoning me back to reality.

“Yes.” My voice is a whisper in the silent room.

“I wasn’t joking. I bought you something to wear. It’s in the living room. Now, go get dressed.”

I nod and follow him into the hallway without another word. My body tingles at the thought of our plans.

Chapter Seventeen

AVA

For most of our drive through the city, Sloan held his hand over mine on my thigh, neither of us speaking to one another. It was nice to sit next to someone without feeling the need to use words to communicate. But he has yet to explain why he bought me a black knee-length dress that has cap sleeves and beautiful chiffon overlay. Paired with the heels I wore to meet him in the on-call room, the outfit looks complete, but too fancy for dinner.

I give his hand a squeeze to grab his attention. “Where are you taking me? The suspense is killing me.”

He turns his head, giving me one of his sexy smirks that melt the panties right off my body. “I told you before we left that it’s a surprise.”

“Can I get a hint?”

“It’s work-related. How about that?”

I glance down at my dress, all of a sudden feeling too dressed up to attend a work function in this outfit.

“You look beautiful,” he says, noticing my confusion. “All eyes will be on you but for the right reasons.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you insane? Take me to my place. We can’t be seen together. Not with our colleagues around.”

“It’s not what you think, Ava. Just chill out and let me surprise you without flipping out. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

I nod. “I suppose I can do that.”

“Do you really think I would take you somewhere that would directly impact both of our careers? I like you, but I’m not a masochist. I worked my ass off to pay my way through medical school and to get where I am today. Don’t take this the wrong way, but no sex in the world is worth ruining my career over. So, believe me when I say that tonight is not about us. This is a good surprise. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, which sounds strange on the tip of my tongue. “I think so.”

How can I trust a man I have known for less than a month? Somehow, I do. When I’m with Sloan, he makes me feel secure in my own skin, something I hadn’t experienced before him. I was too busy with school or working to consider a relationship. Is that what I want with Sloan? The closer we get, the more I think our hookups in the on-call room could turn into more. Maybe. But our careers will always come first.

Sloan parks the car in front of an upscale restaurant illuminated by a red-and-white sign that reads Dolce. A long black-and-red awning hangs over the entryway guarded by two men in suits. I’d heard of this restaurant in the Philadelphia Inquirer. They were raving about the truffles flown in from Italy and the bar that boasts a menu of top-shelf liquors worth hundreds of dollars per shot. At least my attire fits the occasion.

A man steps out from behind the valet stand at the curb and opens my door. “Welcome to Dolce,” he says, extending his hand to help me out of the car.

He holds my hand until my feet land on the curb, at which point Sloan takes over for him. Feeling unsure about holding hands in public, I unhook my fingers from his and give us some space. We need it. My heart speeds up from his touch, the loss of his heat creating a hunger inside me. While my mind says one thing, my body does another. Traitor.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Sloan tells me. “You look like a corpse right now. I’m not into necrophilia.”

I laugh and elbow him in the side. “Jerk. I’m nervous. Why wouldn’t I be? You are being so damn cryptic. I’m on edge, dying to know what we are doing here.”

He smiles in response. “Be patient, beautiful.”

We step inside, and the scents of garlic and herbs assault my senses. It smells so amazing. I can practically taste it on my tongue. The space is deceptively large with a second floor that overlooks an open kitchen you can see into from every angle. The walls are brick, and the floor is a dark shade of bamboo that shines in the dim light. In the far corner, there’s a wine bar made of casks, set up for tastings. The place is simple yet elegant, giving off a homey Italian vibe.

Behind the host desk, a young woman with long dark hair greets us with a wide grin. She welcomes us to Dolce, eyeing up Sloan as if I am not standing next to him.

“We’re here for the donors event,” Sloan says to her.