“I can’t stop thinking about it, either. About you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then nips on the earring he just helped me put on. His hand trails up my leg, past the hem of my dress, brushing the fabric of my panties. “You bring out this completely different side of me, and I love it.” His voice drops another octave. “Fuck. Are you wet for me already?” he asks as he strokes back and forth.
What we did in my bed must have given both of us more confidence. Lowered our walls.
“Yes,” I say on a heavy breath, adjusting to give him easier access.
He pushes aside that strip of silk and teases me with his finger, the lightest touch before he sinks into my tight, damp heat. I let out a whimper, rubbing my palm harder against him. As my legs start to sway, he brings his other hand under my dress, cupping my ass to hold me steady.
“What else have you been thinking about?” I ask.
He lets out a low hum. “Many, many things. All the places I want to kiss you. How I want to feel you on top of me.” It’s agony, the way he slides his finger everywhere but the place I need him most. Then he removes his hand completely and lifts it to his mouth, sucking gently at his slickened fingertip. “How badly I want to taste you when you come.”
Jesus. This man will be the death of me. I’m certain of it.
“Tonight,” I tell him, because if we keep going, I won’t want to leave.
“Tonight,” he confirms. “If we make it through this alive.”
* * *
? ? ?
AT FIRST, I assume it’s a jazz club. But the music is decidedly not jazz. It’s . . . I’m not even sure what to call it, but there are three banjos and a glockenspiel. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, given Torrance’s favorite Christmas song was “Run Rudolph Run.”
“These people will never cease to amaze me,” Russell says so only I can hear as we slide into a booth across from Torrance and Seth.
The club is classy and expensive, two words I have never associated with the types of places I frequent. And if I say it’s loud, that might officially make me Old, and the Hales are a good twenty years older than we are. So I will simply say nothing at all.
“We used to go here all the time when we first got married,” Torrance says, needing to shout to be heard over the music. If she hadn’t been wearing this silver dress that makes her look like a disco ball, I wouldn’t have been able to spot them when we arrived. “The band is always something we’ve never heard of but fall helplessly in love with by the end of the night.”
The guy playing the glockenspiel hits a sour note, and I find Torrance’s declaration hard to believe.
“They even had to kick us out a couple times.” Seth waggles his eyebrows at his ex-wife, who blushes.
When a server brings over a round of champagne because she’s so thrilled to see them, Torrance lifts her glass in a toast. “To second chances,” she says, looking right at Seth.
He spills half of it after he takes a sip. “Whoops,” he says with a sloppy grin. “We did a little pregaming before we left.”
“You did a little pregaming,” she corrects.
“How could I not celebrate? I’m out with the most gorgeous woman in the world, the Kraken won last night, and we just had a grandkid.” He throws an arm around Torrance and plants a kiss on her cheek. It’s surreal, seeing him this cheery, like a grizzly bear offering up its head to be scratched behind the ears.
I turn, not used to the sight of them kissing in public—and that’s when I spot someone familiar a few booths away. The champagne in my mouth instantly goes flat.
“I love this song,” Torrance says, reaching for Seth’s hand. “Dance with me.”
“We’ll get the next one,” I say. When the Hales are safely out of earshot, I tug on Russell’s sleeve, motioning in the mystery man’s direction. “That guy over there. He’s the one I saw Torrance with at brunch a few weeks ago.” I told Russell about it, but especially after Torrance said she wasn’t involved with anyone else, I stopped worrying.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and I nod. Same too-stylish hair, same single hoop in his left ear.
It’s clear Torrance sees him, too, based on the way she stumbles over her feet. Seth says, “Careful there!” and holds her tighter. When they head back to the table at the end of the song, her face is flushed, and I’m not sure it’s just from dancing.
“Everything okay?” I ask as she sips her ice water.
Russell’s eyes go wide at something over my shoulder, and I barely have time to react before the guy approaches our table.
“Torrance,” he says in a bright, friendly voice, the twinkling lights above our booth glinting off his earring. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“If I recall, I’m the one who told you about it.” She looks like she’s trying her hardest to keep her cool. “What brings you out tonight?”
That false cheeriness hits too close to home. I’ve been that person trying to hold everything together, fixing cracks with Scotch Tape instead of superglue. I’ve held on, faking that smile long past its expiration date.
“I’m with a few friends from work.” He motions to some people at his booth on the other side of the room.
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Torrance says. “Ryan, this is Ari and Russell. They’re at KSEA, too. And this is Seth.”
“Seth Hale, in the flesh.” Ryan extends his hand, and Seth just stares, like he’s never shaken someone’s hand before.
“Hasegawa Hale,” he finally says, correcting him.
“Ah, my apologies, man.”
I clench my fist around my bag so hard, the sequins start stabbing my skin. This is going to be bad. All the toxicity Torrance talked about—if anyone could draw it out, it’s got to be another man, even if it’s one Torrance only went on a couple casual dates with.
But Seth flashes him a good-natured grin. “Torrance giving away our secrets?”
“It was too great not to share,” she says. “The glockenspiel player is pretty spectacular, right?”
Ryan nods his agreement while I reassess everything I have ever known about music. Then he gives them a salute. “You two have a great night.”
When he leaves, I wait for someone to yell. For fists to fly.
“So you can definitely do better than me,” Seth says, but there’s no edge to his voice. In fact, he’s still smiling.
Torrance relaxes instantly. “I mean, I tried. But you make it so hard to stay away.”
He slings an arm around her again, pulling her close, and she rests her head on his shoulder.
What . . . is happening?
Beneath the table, Russell’s hand finds my knee, thumb rubbing a soft circle. Maybe it’s reassurance that this is really happening. That maybe we really are done meddling.
“We should do this more often,” Torrance says, reaching for an olive on the too-pricey appetizer plate she and Seth ordered. By my calculation, each of those olives cost $2.50. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out with anyone from work.”
Seth gestures between Russell and me, and I try to push away all my Hale-induced shock. “How long have the two of you been a thing?”