Chapter 8
Lark
I place the fork on the small plate that had a good size piece of white chocolate birthday cake on it not more than three minutes ago. I practically inhaled it after Isla handed it to me. It's not the best cake I've ever had. That recipe belongs to my mom. She used to bake me a chocolate cake every year for my birthday before the masses started demanding pie as a dessert replacement on Christmas Day.
"You like cake." Mr. Moore swipes his finger over the corner of my mouth before he slides it between his lips. "I can see why. This is delicious."
I freeze in place. That felt intimate. It felt incredibly intimate even if wasn't his intention. The entire night I've felt that sensation over and over again.
He sat next to me during dinner, his knee brushing against mine whenever he moved slightly. He picked up my wine glass by mistake and took a sip before handing it back to me and watching intently as I drank from it.
It was white wine. He chuckled when I ordered a glass of red. I laughed too and immediately changed my mind and ordered white. He did the same.
"I like cake," I say to break what I think is sexual tension. He may think it's just me being my typical awkward self, but it feels like more to me. "Ice cream is my favorite, though."
Way to sound your age, Lark.
"I have a soft spot for ice cream myself." He taps his fingers on his dress shirt over his stomach. It has to be rock hard. I saw the outline of his abs in the pictures of him on the beach. I also saw that unmistakable V that only really hot guys have. Well, hot guys who work out like mad. I saw his cock too, but I've been trying to think of that less and the rest of him more. His body is ideal. It's what any woman could ever want and now it's available and so close to me.
"You don't eat ice cream." I reach out to touch the same spot he just did, but I stop myself. "You can't eat ice cream and look like that."
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"When your grandparents own the best ice cream shop in the city, you eat ice cream." He scoops up a tiny bit of buttercream icing onto a spoon and brings it to his lips. He licks it slowly.
My mind jumbles. Do women put icing on their nipples? If we were in bed together and I put icing on my nipples, would he lick it off like that? If I put it on my clit, would he suck it off slowly?
I take another sip of white wine hoping it will shut my imagination down.
"The best ice cream shop in Manhattan is Cremza," I say with conviction. "I've been going there once a week for years. I've tried others but I always go back to Cremza."
"Good to know." He grins and I'm sure an angel somewhere weeps because it's so strikingly beautiful.
Dammit, Lark. Get a fucking grip on yourself. It's just a smile.
I push the half-full glass of wine away from me. I know my limit and I've obviously cruised past it, way past it. "I have to work tomorrow. I should probably get home."
He chuckles, the sound deep and raspy. "You can come in late tomorrow, Lark. I'll overlook it."
"You're a prince, Mr. Moore." I rest my hand on his forearm. "You're not as bad as I thought you were."
"I can be bad."
My head snaps up, my eyes widening in surprise. I look directly at him. This is the first moment I've had alone with him all night. It's the ideal time for me to ask him why he still has those pictures of my tattoo on his phone. I need to ask him that. I should ask him that but I don't. "Did you just say you can be bad?"
"I can be bad," he repeats gruffly. "I can be firm, or demanding. I can be many things."
I squirm slightly in my seat, my thighs rubbing together beneath the thin fabric of my black dress. I don't want to jump to the wrong conclusion. He might be talking about work. There's a chance he's not. There's a huge chance that he's talking about sex; bad, firm, and demanding sex.
Not bad exactly. The man can't be bad in bed. I bet he could get me off just by looking at me long enough. Is that an actual thing? Is it even physically possible? I stare at him to test my theory.
"I know I haven't been the best boss to you or anyone in the marketing department at Matiz." My quest for an orgasm is broken just like that. "I'm too demanding at times. There have been a number of situations that I haven't handled in the best way. My resolution for next year is to improve on that."
My resolution for next year is to find another man to crush on. Ryker Moore is all business when it comes to me. I'm so inconsequential to him outside the office that he can't even remember kissing me. He was looking in Crew's direction so often tonight that I should have clued into what was going on by the time the main course was served. He showed up to my surprise party to impress my brother. Simple.
"We can all make improvements, Mr. Moore. I think resolutions are a great way to guide ourselves down a better path."
"Listen to you sounding all grown up and shit." Crew grabs my shoulders from behind. "Are you ready to go, Lark? The car will be here in ten. Kade and I will load up your gifts in the trunk and I'll take you home."