Starlight (The Morgans of New York)

We sat next to each other in the back seat of an SUV on our way to my apartment.

Berk’s gaze was cast out the window, so I handled making small talk with the driver.

He asked about our dinner and what I thought about the food at Axel Tribeca. I sensed that it was his standard way of filling the silence when he’s driving people home, so I played along and detailed everything I ate.

I’m not sure why, but as we neared my apartment, Berk asked the driver to drop us off at a corner a block over.

As we approach Vinyl Crush and the door that leads up to my home, I’m at a loss. I don’t know if I should invite him up, kiss him goodnight, or say goodbye to him as if it will be the last time I’ll see him.

I assumed we’d be spending at least part of the night at the Bishop Hotel Tribeca, but obviously, I was mistaken.

I jump slightly when I feel Berk draw my hand into his.

I glance down as we wait for the light to cross the street, even though traffic is light.

Berk’s gaze remains straight ahead.

Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, I clear my throat. “It’s supposed to snow tomorrow…or later today, I guess.”

He glances down at me. “Is it?”

I nod, noticing the change of the light signaling we can now cross the street.

If I were alone, I would have bolted across against the light since not one car crossed our path in that direction.

We set off toward my store hand-in-hand, with my mind racing about my next move.

With every step I take, I replay the evening in my mind. I was completely myself. If I said anything to offend him, it was unintentional.

As soon as we reach the exterior of my store, Berk slows his pace until he stops.

I do the same.

This is it. This is the end of what I thought would be one of the most memorable nights of my life.

Instead of a string of orgasms, I’m going to be left with a host of unanswered questions about what went wrong.

“Astrid,” he says my name in a low growl.

I turn to face him. “Yes?”

He drops my hand, and before I can piece together what’s happening, both of his hands are cupping my face. He gazes into my eyes.

I manage a small smile because if this is goodbye, this is an image that will be burned into my memory forever.

His expression is intense. It only makes him more brutally handsome in my eyes.

His gaze roams my face. “I had every intention of taking you to a hotel room at the Bishop tonight.”

I stare into his eyes. “But you didn’t.”

He bites the corner of his bottom lip. “I couldn’t. I wanted to. Fuck, did I want to, but what happened between us tonight… it was different for me. It felt different.”

I can’t piece any of that together, and I don’t want to go up to my apartment with these unanswered questions haunting me. “What felt different?”

He rubs the pad of his thumb over my cheek. “Talking with you and laughing with you, watching you. Getting to know you. All of it felt new to me.”

“New?”

He nods. “It felt like a first date.”

The corners of my lips lift into a smile. “Did it?”

He smiles too. “Didn’t it to you?”

I move to rest a hand on his chest. I can feel the steady, strong beat of his heart through his shirt. “It felt special.”

He gazes into my eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. This is a first for me.”

Still wanting to understand what he’s feeling, I push for more. “How so?”

“I’ve been focused on my daughter and work the past few years,” he begins as he looks to the left. “I’ve had limited, brief encounters with women.”

That’s a gentlemanly way of saying he’s had a string of one-night stands.

“I understand,” I offer, hoping my voice will draw his gaze back to mine.

It works.

“I know we discussed approaching this in a certain way.” He smiles. “But, if you’re open to the idea, I’d like to take you out for dinner again.”

I hesitate because this isn’t what I was expecting at all.

He steps closer to me, tilts my head up, and locks eyes with me. “I am aching to fuck you, Astrid. I can’t remember ever wanting a woman this much, but I need to know you. I don’t know if I’m making any goddamn sense here, but…”

I reach up to stroke my fingertips over his chin. “You’re making perfect sense.”

He cocks a dark brow. “I am?”

“You are,” I answer with a curt nod of my chin. “I’d love to have dinner with you again, Berk.”

“Good,” he whispers. “I’ll call you so we can figure out a day that works for both of us.”