“What do you mean?” Willow glanced between her flummoxed friends.
“That…? Whatever the hell just happened between you two,” Juliet said, waving her finger back and forth from Willow to the kitchen.
“I still don’t understand.”
“That was the most intense conversation about dinner I’ve ever heard. Hands down.”
“Yep.” Ian nodded in agreement. “I’d say you were exaggerating if I hadn’t been here to experience it myself. That was some crazy sexual tension right there.”
Juliet widened her eyes. “And I thought we were bad.”
“Exactly. I’m calling it like I see it, here.” He took a long drink of wine. “And what I think I’m seeing is that my little brother has finally met his match.”
Chapter Sixteen
Harry
The moment the order for the salad with plain chicken and dressing on the side came in, Harry knew Willow was in the restaurant. He knew Ian and Juliet planned to bring her in sometime that night and had been eagerly waiting all evening to know they’d arrived. When her order came in, he snuck out of the kitchen and watched her at the table, laughing and joking with her friend and his brother.
Even sitting, she moved with grace, her thin arms gesturing in broad yet controlled movements, her smile lighting up the table and spreading to the people around her like wildfire. Harry loved his job. He was really, really good at his job. But that night, he wished he could say to hell with being the owner, pull up a chair at their table, and spend the rest of the night with her, enjoying the easy comfort of her presence.
After Willow left the restaurant, the rest of the evening passed by at a snail’s pace. Like, so slowly he started to doubt the restaurant would ever close. Distracted by thoughts of her, Harry finally gave up trying to be a good boss and closed the door to his office and typed Willow Tamran American City Ballet into a Google search. The volume of newspaper articles and YouTube videos that came back surprised him. Juliet had mentioned that Willow was good at what she did, but nothing in her demeanor hinted that she was such a big deal.
He read article after article about her, praising her dancing as well as her ability to bring nuance to the characters she played. One critic even went so far as to call her performance in a ballet last year “the only good thing in an evening ripe with disappointment.” Intrigued, he found clips of the performance on YouTube and lost the rest of the evening watching her dance.
He didn’t understand ballet.
He’d never once considered going to see a ballet, and yet every time Willow moved, he couldn’t help but watch. She captivated him with a single look over her shoulder. Wowed him with her powerful leaps and vibrant turns.
How could one person be so strong and so delicate at the same time? In one clip, he could see the sweat beading on her forehead and yet, she moved with certainty, never once showing the fatigue she had to be fighting. In another, the audience roared as she spun through a vicious series of turns on one leg. As he scrolled through the comments, the number of people singling her out as amazing humbled him, even though it came as no surprise. Even someone as clueless about her world as he was could see she was gifted.
Like, really fucking gifted.
And yet she was so real in person. So unassuming. Spending time with her was just like anyone else. Well…not like that at all. Harry had never been so turned on by a woman’s body and mind in all his life. But, judging by the comments on the videos and all the praise in the newspaper articles, Willow Tamran was basically a star in the ballet world and she never once came off that way. Knowing what she could do, discovering how talented and revered she was in her field, and knowing how sweet and down to earth she stayed despite it all intrigued him all the more.
As if he didn’t have reason enough to be fascinated with her.
He closed down the restaurant with his mind mostly on her, already planning the meal he wanted to make for her the next evening. Surely, he could make a dish that honored her nutritional guidelines without resorting to feeding her plain iceberg lettuce and unseasoned chicken.
Good food was good for the soul. Harry knew that better than anyone.
By the time he made it home, his mind had wandered to less wholesome thoughts about Willow. He remembered the way her legs looked in her shorts. How her sexy breasts filled out her sports bra. And he remembered how the feel of her lips against his had simultaneously calmed him and sent blood racing toward his dick. He showered and imagined she was with him, that it was her fingers running down his body, grasping his hard on…
He shuddered as he took himself into his hands, leaning against the wall, stroking his length as the water beat against his back.
He imagined Willow’s mouth on him.
Those big blue eyes looking up at him.
The way it would feel to sheath himself so deep inside her that she screamed.
He grunted as he came in the shower, her face and name blazing through his mind.
* * *
Later that night, Harry lay awake in bed, his thoughts still completely wrapped around Willow. He finally gave in and picked up his phone to tap out a quick text.
Me: You awake?
He waited anxiously for her response, both hopeful she’d reply and fearful he’d woken her. A minute passed and, as he rolled over to put his phone back on his bedside table, it buzzed in his hand.
Willow: Yep. Can’t sleep.
Harry was glad to be alone in the dark because the smile that stretched across his face was too wide, too goofy, and too excited.
Me: Me neither. My mind’s on fire. What’s
