He wanted Emerson to finish that sentence more than anything else in the world.
“Could I get a French 75, please?” she asked, without glancing down at the cocktail menu.
Connor grinned. “I’ll take a gin and tonic. Dyer’s Medallion if you have it.”
“We do. It’s my current favorite,” the woman said.
“I like the taste of Dyer’s, too,” he said, winking in Emerson’s direction.
When the server disappeared, Emerson turned to him. “Oh my god, do you think she heard?”
Connor tipped her chin and pressed a brief but intimate kiss to her lips. “I doubt it, but honestly, I don’t care. She probably doesn’t give a rat’s ass that we were flirting. She’s probably thinking about how many of the specials there are left and whether she gets next Tuesday off on the staff rotation. Anyway, I want to hear what of mine you were considering wrapping your lips around.”
Emerson grinned as she shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”
“Only when I’m aroused,” Connor replied.
She lifted the menu to hide her face from his. “I’m thinking oysters,” she said.
He pressed down on the top of the menu with two fingers so he could just see her eyes. “Nature’s aphrodisiac? I approve.”
Their drinks came, and they placed their orders. Oysters and the seared snapper for Emerson and the Wagyu beef tartare and the short rib for him. With a light Beaujolais cru to dance between the lightness of Emerson’s seafood and his own meat choices.
“I’m glad things went well with Jake and Liv,” he said over their appetizers. “I’m glad they were reasonable.”
Emerson nodded. “Me too. I’d never really thought about what Dad would leave us, beyond the distillery. And so, the fact we get to use his estate to keep the distillery is a bonus.”
In between courses, Connor resumed his teasing of Emerson, offering her more suggestions on the ten things he wanted to do to her. By her reaction to number six—in his arms up against the wall—and number eight—seated on one of the stools in the kitchen with him standing in front of her—they already had an outline of how exactly their return to the condo was going to go.
By the time he hit suggestion ten, they were just waiting for the bill.
“I don’t know if it was your plan all along,” Emerson said, quietly, her voice husky. “But I’m so turned on right now that I might spontaneously combust.”
She bit her lip as she looked at him, and he’d seen the look in her eyes before. The look that told him that she was on the edge before she lost control. It left her looking just a little wild and reckless.
Connor reached out and placed his palm against her cheek. “I’ve been hard as a rock since you appeared in the condo wearing that dress and lipstick. When I race, it’s important to not go out too early. You have to know your pace. Steady, letting it build. And you need to save some energy for that final burst at the end, savoring the anticipation of crossing the line rather than just hurtling toward it. Savoring the anticipation of you tonight has been fucking glorious.”
When the bill arrived, he paid, refusing Emerson’s offer to split it. He used the time to cool his thoughts. Jumping into borderline frozen rivers, running at five in the morning in the snow. Anything to ensure he could do all the things he wanted to with Emerson when they got home.
It felt as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the car. Connor’s hand edged its way along her leg from her knee. His fingertips trailed her inner thigh, her skirt bunching up as he moved higher.
Emerson glanced in the direction of the driver, half expecting his eyes to be glued to the rearview mirror, watching as Connor began to undo her, to make good on the promises he’d whispered in her ear over dinner. Relieved, she found his eyes focused on the road in front of them.
Connor leaned his elbow on the window, hand in his hair as he studied her, his gaze intense. It was a wonder there weren’t physical sparks flickering between the two of them, igniting the seat.
Neither of them said a word.
Emerson answered the question of how far she’d let him go almost as soon as she’d thought it.
As far as he wanted to.
The tip of his finger brushed against her red lace underwear, making her gasp and her stomach muscles clench. She wanted more immediately, but his hand never ventured quite far enough to allow him to apply any pressure.
The side of Connor’s mouth tilted in a smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, or in this case, what he wasn’t doing to her.
She squinted in a mock frown.
Soon, he mouthed.
Emerson let her head fall back on the headrest as she heard Connor chuckle. He moved his hand, the loss of connection immediate. Once he’d straightened her skirt back down, he lifted her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently and then lowered her hand to his hard erection where he flattened her palm against it. He laid his hand over hers to ensure she didn’t grip it, rocking once, then twice against her.
Okay, so she was doing to him what he was doing to her.
Fair was fair.
This time, she smiled and prayed the driver stepped on the gas.
When they pulled up outside Connor’s apartment building, she reached for the door.
“Wait,” Connor said, pulling a twenty out of his wallet before telling the driver to keep the change. He stepped out of the cab, and Emerson bit her lip as he discretely adjusted himself before walking to her door.
He opened it and offered her his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping out of the cab and walking in front of him into the building. She looked over her shoulder and found him running his tongue along his lower lip as he watched her hips sway.
“Are you checking me out?” she
